I am not a cook…but

I can state with complete confidence that I will never make the grade on any of those cooking shows one sees on the television. No, I am sure the Almighty did not intend for me to make my living cooking for somebody else.

Up to now, I have been fortunate enough that my three children are pretty handy in the kitchen and so I have been able to escape any and all culinary duties. My eldest son is considered close to a master with the outdoor grill. When he is here, I can rest assured that I will have no cooking duties foisted on me. His younger brother is on his way to equal the older sibling in skill and mastery of the outdoor grill. An added plus.

Both of my sons and my daughter are grown and gone now so I am, more often than not, left on my own to do any grilling that may be required. I can get out of it once in a while with a suggestion geared towards one of our fine Southside restaurants. This day was not one of those days.

I was assigned the job to fire up the grill and b-b-q some salmon that my bride had bought. That would be all well and good if the grill had cooperated. Try as I might, I was unable to get a fire of sufficient heat going. Lucky for me, my younger son was in residence as was my brother-in-law who is currently visiting from Seattle. I was able to delegate my grilling duties to them and assume my customary duties as a host of the evening. It is a task I excel at and would consider the duties as a professional host as an absolute specialty except it does not pay enough to evade the poor house.

As I write, my younger son and brother in law are hard at it preparing the salmon for dinner. Once the actual cooking began, I excused myself from the proceedings on the grounds that I have to write this column.

Time to eat! Dang, I’m good!