Now where was I?
Oh yes. Fire.
So we set up camp, got the RV leveled and hooked up, and next our thoughts turned to food! It was about 7:00, and we were pretty hungry. Two days before, after much agonizing on Amazon over whether a propane or charcoal grill would be the way to go, I bought a small, $49 portable grill, that I figured could feed us.
Which way did I go? Charcoal of course. Why? Because I've never, ever used one. Neither has Marco. So of course, it seemed like thestupid wise decision. I ordered the grill, and even ordered some charcoal briquettes and some fancy-schmancy fire starters. We'd be fine, right? No need to practice. No need to buy anything else useful, like....say....lighter fluid. Oh no! I'm skilled at rubbing sticks together and causing charcoal to ignite. Yeah.
I decided that the 20 minutes of reading about making charcoal fires on Amazon through reviewers' advice made me the expert, so I set about to light up the grill. In the meantime, I sent Marco to build a bonfire. Since he'd made me steal all the wood, he should have to light it up. I opened up the top of the grill, and studiously read the directions that came with the grill. I also read the directions on my fancy fire starters. No problem! I can read. I can follow directions. We're good. First, I am supposed to lay the fire starters in the bottom of the grill, under the first grate, and light them.
Done and done. Easy-peasy.
Next, I am supposed to lay the charcoal over the grate, so that the fire starters ignite the coal, and get it hot. No problem. Laying down charcoal. Third, I am supposed to replace the top with the vents open, so that the charcoal gets hot, but the fire doesn't go out. Done. I peer through the vent holes. I see fire. We're good. I walk away, pretty pleased with myself, and go to check out how Marco is doing with the campfire.
I walk over to where I see a huge cloud of smoke, figuring that this must be our campfire. In the middle of the cloud, I find Marco, who is poking at the logs that he has built into a beautiful teepee. "We need more branches for kindling," he says. "Did you bring any lighter fluid?"
Oh yeah, lighter fluid. "We don't need it," I say. " I bought these fire starters" I trot back to my picnic table and grab one of them. He throws it in the fire. "No," I say. "You have to light it around the edges, see?" I kneel down and use my lighter on it. It flares up for a moment, produces a beautiful flame for about 20 seconds, and dies away. "No," Marco says. "This will never work. These logs will never get hot enough. Even your dad, who is the king of fires, has lighter fluid." I shrug and leave him to it. I trot back over to my grill, lift up the lid, it seems warmish. I decide to put the hamburgers on. I shovel them onto the grate, replace the top, and go in search of a beer. That will help! I grab a PBR from the cooler--which sounded good, by the way, when I picked up a case back in Michigan--but honestly doesn't taste all that great. Either way, it's cold and alcoholic.
I head back over to Marco. A small fire is trying to gain life, but it's less smokey, so we've got that going for us. Marco is still cursing under his breath and collecting branches. Niccolo is blowing with all his might on the fire. More fire starters, that's what it needs. I go back to the grill and grab two more. I place them each strategically under the fire, light them up, and place the driest branches I can find in the flames. Slowly, slowly, the fire builds up, and now the logs are blazing. I have made fire. I HAVE MADE FIRE! Marco drops his sticks. "Let's check the burgers," he says.
We go back to the table and lift the top off the grill. Raw burgers. No heat. Charcoal has died. Marco looks at me. "What?" I say. "It was lit!!" Thankfully, we have remembered to buy hot pads. I carefully lift the grate with the raw burgers off. "Well," I say. "We can just use more fire starters." "Fire starters!" Marco scoffs. "They don't do anything!!" Huh. Says he. I squeeze two more under the charcoal and light them up. "Let me do it," Marco says. "You go watch the bonfire." Ha. I am the one that got the bonfire going. Fine. He can cook. I strut back to sit by my fire with my beer, leaving Marco and his mom to the burgers. It doesn't really matter if they ever get cooked. Sophie is speed-eating marshmallows that she's already roasting over the bonfire, and Niccolo's had about a pound of Swedish Fish in the past hour, so I don't suppose the kids will starve.
Sooner or later, though, we're called over to have some well-cooked burgers. Lesson learned. Marco = cook. Angie = fire. When we try for a Take Two tonight, we'll see if that formula sticks.
Oh yes. Fire.
So we set up camp, got the RV leveled and hooked up, and next our thoughts turned to food! It was about 7:00, and we were pretty hungry. Two days before, after much agonizing on Amazon over whether a propane or charcoal grill would be the way to go, I bought a small, $49 portable grill, that I figured could feed us.
Which way did I go? Charcoal of course. Why? Because I've never, ever used one. Neither has Marco. So of course, it seemed like the
I decided that the 20 minutes of reading about making charcoal fires on Amazon through reviewers' advice made me the expert, so I set about to light up the grill. In the meantime, I sent Marco to build a bonfire. Since he'd made me steal all the wood, he should have to light it up. I opened up the top of the grill, and studiously read the directions that came with the grill. I also read the directions on my fancy fire starters. No problem! I can read. I can follow directions. We're good. First, I am supposed to lay the fire starters in the bottom of the grill, under the first grate, and light them.
Done and done. Easy-peasy.
Next, I am supposed to lay the charcoal over the grate, so that the fire starters ignite the coal, and get it hot. No problem. Laying down charcoal. Third, I am supposed to replace the top with the vents open, so that the charcoal gets hot, but the fire doesn't go out. Done. I peer through the vent holes. I see fire. We're good. I walk away, pretty pleased with myself, and go to check out how Marco is doing with the campfire.
I walk over to where I see a huge cloud of smoke, figuring that this must be our campfire. In the middle of the cloud, I find Marco, who is poking at the logs that he has built into a beautiful teepee. "We need more branches for kindling," he says. "Did you bring any lighter fluid?"
Oh yeah, lighter fluid. "We don't need it," I say. " I bought these fire starters" I trot back to my picnic table and grab one of them. He throws it in the fire. "No," I say. "You have to light it around the edges, see?" I kneel down and use my lighter on it. It flares up for a moment, produces a beautiful flame for about 20 seconds, and dies away. "No," Marco says. "This will never work. These logs will never get hot enough. Even your dad, who is the king of fires, has lighter fluid." I shrug and leave him to it. I trot back over to my grill, lift up the lid, it seems warmish. I decide to put the hamburgers on. I shovel them onto the grate, replace the top, and go in search of a beer. That will help! I grab a PBR from the cooler--which sounded good, by the way, when I picked up a case back in Michigan--but honestly doesn't taste all that great. Either way, it's cold and alcoholic.
I head back over to Marco. A small fire is trying to gain life, but it's less smokey, so we've got that going for us. Marco is still cursing under his breath and collecting branches. Niccolo is blowing with all his might on the fire. More fire starters, that's what it needs. I go back to the grill and grab two more. I place them each strategically under the fire, light them up, and place the driest branches I can find in the flames. Slowly, slowly, the fire builds up, and now the logs are blazing. I have made fire. I HAVE MADE FIRE! Marco drops his sticks. "Let's check the burgers," he says.
We go back to the table and lift the top off the grill. Raw burgers. No heat. Charcoal has died. Marco looks at me. "What?" I say. "It was lit!!" Thankfully, we have remembered to buy hot pads. I carefully lift the grate with the raw burgers off. "Well," I say. "We can just use more fire starters." "Fire starters!" Marco scoffs. "They don't do anything!!" Huh. Says he. I squeeze two more under the charcoal and light them up. "Let me do it," Marco says. "You go watch the bonfire." Ha. I am the one that got the bonfire going. Fine. He can cook. I strut back to sit by my fire with my beer, leaving Marco and his mom to the burgers. It doesn't really matter if they ever get cooked. Sophie is speed-eating marshmallows that she's already roasting over the bonfire, and Niccolo's had about a pound of Swedish Fish in the past hour, so I don't suppose the kids will starve.
Sooner or later, though, we're called over to have some well-cooked burgers. Lesson learned. Marco = cook. Angie = fire. When we try for a Take Two tonight, we'll see if that formula sticks.
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