It was getting late on Saturday night and I was performing elective surgery on chicken breasts for Sunday afternoon.  The butcher does a pretty good job but there's always just a bit of extra fat or tendon that has to be removed. I'm wondering if we can somehow perform liposuction on the chickens so I don't have to spend so much time at the sink. My friends at PETA (NOT the newer version of People Eat Tasty Animals) would probably never speak to me again if they knew I had such thoughts.

I'm stuck, of course, as are most omnivores in our society.  On the one hand, as just mentioned, I know several Vegans that are very polite-yet-obviously-disgusted by our diet.  I also know avid hunters that complain that most people in America think meat only comes from the supermarket, wrapped in plastic and laying on a diaper - their words, not mine.

I, of course, am a modern Intellectual and know that meat really should come precooked and breaded from a drive-thru window.

The chicken survives the surgery and goes into the Tupperware to marinate all night long.  Sunday afternoon, it’s raining but I start up the grill anyway. I’m outside with an umbrella that not only keeps the rain off but also captures all the rising smoke within its curved dome.  I’m not as clever as I wish I was. In fact, I’m so not clever that I failed to notice that the propane tank has run dry and that my patient is feeling a bit chilly for several minutes.

Yes, I said propane. Propane is so convenient. Except when you run out. It starts right up and is instantly hot.  Except when you run out, of course. Charcoal take quite a bit longer to get going, but you never have to worry about the flame dying on you half way through cooking unless you run out of oxygen in your back yard.

Once again I’m stuck. Only this time it’s between purist grillers and their charcoal and those that think cooking over an open fire is positively primeval. Let’s be honest:  Grilling really DOES bring out the Ancient Man in us.  There is something profound in watching a once living creature become partially cremated for the express purpose of becoming my lunch.  If you disagree with my using the term “partially cremated” then you’ve never enjoyed my style of grilling.

But the crematorium isn’t working because I’m out of propane.  So I load the body parts onto a 9x13 and place them in the kitchen oven. It certainly isn’t as satisfying as grilling outside, but to compensate for my loss of open flame I baked the chicken at 425 degrees.

It was delicious.