Spring winds loft a smell so sweet.
Go forth young men to the store of meat.
Oh lit flame that propane will birth.
Loin of pork a sizzling mirth.
To stainless steel grate I do bring.
A tasty offering from my grill.
The King
I now invite you to write a story about your own grill. Obviously if you don't belong to the Holland Grill brotherhood, you might not have the deep wellspring of emotions from which poetry rises. Its a Holland thing.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
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8 comments:
give
me my
charcoal grill
back
that's my "haiku" about my grill.... we want to go back to charcoal because last time we used ours it ran out of gas and we had to finish in the oven! a true tragedy when you're making asado!!!!! :(
Kelly:
All my words fall silent except in praise of Fernando's asado. But, give no credit to charcoal. It is the loving touch of the master cook's hands that make the difference.
EEW! Are you guys grilling heads? Has Betsy's shameful family secret finally caught up with her? Are the heads tasty?
heads?? I don't get it! but john, i know you're right.... it is horrible to run out of gas though! he hasn't wanted to use our grill since then!
The head sitting on top of the barbeque! Is it some sort of Wisconsin tribal ritual?
i would be that's some sort of graves tradition --- we all know what sort of people they are!!!!
;-)
the grill i love with heart and soul,
it cooks the meat i shoot or pole,
friends come running from the street,
to eat with pleasure the well cooked meat,
fish or deer or some other beast,
all are welcome at our feast,
the grill has always kept the pace,
when i'm ready to feed my face,
so come one come all and gather around,
as we stuff our pie holes from the propane god!
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Jon’s Holland Grill
Is better than a ewe
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