Bobby Q

No, Bobby Q is not my cousin. Bobby Q is how Mama Piggy and millions of other Chinese pronouces bar b cue. Come on, you know I'm right. heehee

Never have I BBQed on my own, but since I inherited a propane grill, I figured I should take advantage of it. So Road Scholar and I made plans for a BBQ dinner. She was suppose to come over on a Friday but plans changed & we re-scheduled for the next day. It was a good thing.

After Road Scholar called to re-schedule I thought I could grill some salmon myself that night. To my dismay, after an hour of cleaning and fiddling around, I realize that there's no propane left in the tank. Sarah Michelle Gellar! What does this piggy have to do to get some grilled salmon??

It was pan fried salmon that night. sigh

First thing in the morning I go to Home Cheapo to swap out my propane tank. I rush home, hook up the tank & am ready to grill drumsticks for lunch. After five fildding around minutes, I realize the ignition button is broken. No problem. Just throw a match in. Of course it didn't dawn on me that the gas had been building up inside the grill.

Woosh! I turned my head to the left, as if that alone would save me from the flame. Luckily, my hair was in a ponytail, but still...there was the unmistakable smell of singed hair. I had to cut off a big section of crispy hair on the right side. My hair dresser is not going to be happy about this. Guess I could tell her I got Bobby Q-ed...

Like I said, it was a good thing Road Scholar re-scheduled. I learned valuable lessons about the propane grill in time to prevent our dinner of rib eye, sausage & veggie skewers and salad from going up in flames.