I may have mentioned once or forty-six times before that Hubs received a Traeger grill for his birthday back in November. He has become something of a grilling madman since then. He’s grilled and smoked turkeys and steaks, chicken and pork loins, hamburgers and Polish dogs and bacon and sausages. He has enormous plans coming up for halibut, tuna steaks, water buffalo fillets and whole prairie dogs.
And, people, dinner just TASTES better on the Traeger. Hubs has become such a professional, we’re thinking about hanging a sign on the front of our house which reads, BUBBA HUBS’ BAR AND GRILL.
For all your spirits and meaty needs.
When the deer walk across our lawn now to feast on the bushes that I used to have planted here — the bushes that are now nothing but ugly stubs of unrecognizable bark because of said deer — Hubs goes out onto the deck, where he whistles at the deer to get their attention and then points to the Traeger with a wicked, lop-sided grin on his face.
Right before he shouts out, “It ain’t nothin’ for me to throw your hind end on this thing and crank up the heat, Little Doe!”
And Little Doe either runs for her life, or she stands there and returns Hubs’ stare, right before she shouts out, “And it ain’t nothing for me to eat your dad-gum trees and drop a load in your front yard!”
Hubs and the deer; they are not on friendly terms.
This weekend, Hubs grilled a piglet, because his parents stopped by to deliver a side of pork that weighed in at something akin to eighty-seven pounds. Hubs researched the World Wide Web for a marinade. He mixed the honey and the mustard and the rosemary and the oils and the spices together. He rubbed the piglet with salt. The piglet received a deep-soak overnight in the marinade, and then spent a substantial amount of time on the Traeger Saturday afternoon.
And this, people, is what emerged.
That’s a little less than half of the piglet, because Hubs deemed grilling the entire thing as overkill, because we are a family of three, and because of the storm on Saturday and the fact that the boy never changed out of his pajamas, we had no plans for company.
Thus, we had half a piglet for dinner.
Hubs was so thrilled with it, he yelled out, “Where’s your camera? I need a picture of this little baby for my scrapbook!”
Because Hubs is so dedicated to scrapbooking, you know.
After the obligatory photos had been snapped, he looked at me and said, “Don’t post these pictures on your blog. Otherwise, people are going to look at that hunk of pig and realize that I am a genius on the grill, and I’m going to be plagued with dinner requests and paparazzi.”
Yes. I’m sure he will be.
I will say that the piglet was tasty. OH, MY WORD, BUT WAS IT TASTY. And I will say that Hubs is incredibly humble with his cooking skills.
After dinner, he looked at me and said with a grin, “Well, I spent the day slaving over that grill, so I guess you can clean up the kitchen. The master chefs always have a crew to clean up after them; we can’t be bothered with the little jobs, when we’re perfecting a piece of meat like that on a grill.”
Oh, girls! He’s all mine!