Sunday, July 06, 2008

Q’ing in the Hood

It’s getting hot in here.

Down in the ghetto areas where I work, the locals refer to barbecuing as “Q’ing.” You can smell it from a mile away, and it’s some of the best damned stuff you’ve ever had. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve rolled down Artesia only to smell a delicious scent coming from one of the side streets. We’ll roll up, and there will be a plume of smoke rising from the back yard. The local Iron Chefs will say, “C’mon deputies, grab a plate and step up to get some of the best Q in town! And by the way, we’re not selling crack. That house is the blue one at the end of the street.” Okay, with the exception of the last part about the crack, the part about the barbeque is true.

Due to the fact that it’s been about 150 degrees for the last month here in Los Angeles, I plan on barbecuing every night when I get home from work. It’s fun, it’s easy, and it keeps my house from getting hotter than it already is. Plus I can enjoy my evening beer while chilling outside. I’m going to ask Steve H. to provide a few of his highly specialized recipies to get me on the right track (and to help promote his new book, Eat What You Want And Die Like A Man).

What’s the worst that can happen? I guess I might run a monopoly on barbeque sauce, but I’m sure there are worse things in the world.