I decided today, frantically looking around for an excuse while my barbecue fire was dying fitfully because of aging briquets, if William Shatner can rip off Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s “Rocket Man,” then I can have fun with some of my literary heroes, too. Here is Shatner’s ironically unforgettable performance—“ironic” because you wish you could forget it— in 1978. Shatner, to his credit, is not a smoker. He never inhales.
So today—there seems to be a theme here, more or less, probably less— I barbecued. But it’s windy and a little chilly—it took me three tries to get the fire lit after I’d decided that my sons absolutely positively needed a Burger Fix—and so I turned to Hamlet for inspiration.
To barbecue, or not to barbecue, that is the question;
Whether ‘tis nobler in the back yard to Weber the burgers
Upon the mesquite briquets well-purchas’d at Vons
Or to retreat into the warmth of our little home
To lay down the manly arms of barbecue: the battle spatula, long-handled
And by using the Air Fryer, grill them falsely
No smoky smell, no briquets revived by
The natural drippings of burger patties, the master’s craft
Surmounted by cheese–Pepper Jack, provolone, American
To grill, perchance to smell—ay, there’s the burger rub.
–Hamelt, Act 3 Scene 1 [A play often confused with Hamlet ]
As if that weren’t enough—and it truly is, and I will stop soon—I had a personal point to make. This one, of course, had nothing to do with barbecuing.
Yes, I shaved my beard
Happened just the other day
It was gettin’ kinda gray
I coulda said it was gettin’ in my way
So I did. And a long, long time it’s been
Since anybody’s seen my chin…
–Apologies to David Crosby
So you think I’m done yet? Nossirreebob!
Boss, there is one sin even God cannot forgive. And that is when a man lets a Weber Barbecue fire go to waste.
–Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek. This novel was a big deal to me in high school. Mind you, this might be a liberal paraphrase of what Zorba actually said. It was Elizabeth who introduced me to the thrifty Scots idea of using a dying barbecue fire to cook breakfast bacon ahead of time. It is a fine and civilized custom. Hattie the Cat, in a very safe place in our back yard, approved. Walter, of course, got a sample.
Finally, my big sister, Roberta, who lives in Oildale, wondered what the creek looked like next to our old house. So Elizabeth drove me out there and I took this video. Which led, of course, to John Steinbeck.
The rain beat on steadily. And the streams and the little rivers edged up to the bank sides and worked at willows and tree roots, bent the willows deep in the current, cut out the roots of cottonwoods and brought down the trees.
John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath, Chapter 29. The Arroyo Grande Creek this morning at the Harris Bridge. I grew up in the house just over the bridge.
Yup. I am shameless.
A Work in Progress 