Today is Independence Day in the USA. No, this is not the day when we celebrate Jeff Goldblum's victory over the aliens. What we do celebrate on this day is our inalienable right to grill, something that the Brits never allowed our ancestors to do, because Brits prefer boiled foods and dishes with strange names like Toad in the Hole. So we left the British Isles on rickety ships, came to the New World, dumped a whole bunch of tea into the sea, and had ourselves a BARBECUE!! Oh yeah, baby! That's the American Way!
My dad likes to cook outside, because Man Cook With Fire, GRRRR, so today he and a bunch of his friends/relatives/neighbors are all gathered around the grill, drinking beer and discussing the best way to stack coal. In the meantime, the Women Folk have prepared enough food to feed the Chinese for a month: potato salad, biscuits, cookies, ice cream, cakes, pies, corn on the cob, green salad, cucumber salad, tomato salad and some non-American foods such as the ever present lángos, which are good any time, any place, in any country. Nothing like sushi and lángos, or paella and lángos, and if you must have Toad in the Hole, stuff it in between two lángos cakes.
The men have a pile of dead animal products they did not hunt, kill, or dress, all ready to sit on top of the grill getting nice and roasted. There are steaks, hamburgers, hot dogs, and many different types of sausages. And nearby there is a big ol' tub filled with ice, in which the long necks of beer bottles stick out like asparagus. Because beer isn't alcoholic enough, there is also plenty of wine, plenty of Scotch, and plenty of homemade pálinka to cancel out calories.
Men say women are chatterboxes, but let me tell you, those guys out there are making enough of a racket to wake up the dead soldiers of the American revolution. Along with the thrilling topic of coal-stacking, there are lively conversations about football (Italy plays Germany today!), politics, cars, and gardening. Some people are shouting in Hungarian, others in English, and others in some unintelligible tongue that may well be Swahili.
My mother is sharing some pictures with her lady friends and there is much giggling going on, especially over the "kilts up" pictures, which depict a whole bunch of guys standing on a hill, mooning the camera. I'm embarrassed to say I've seen sides of my Scottish relatives I had never seen before. Tsk tsk, lads. I've heard of voguing, but I don't think this is exactly what Madonna had in mind, though who knows what goes on in the mind of the Material Girl. And yes, it's true what they say about the Scots and their kilts. Nothing but bare bottoms under there, and some of them hairy.
There are kids aplenty here too, running around squealing like piglets and getting in trouble. I actually witnessed a couple of these adorable tykes put Turtle in the koolaid. Turtle lives in the garden, and he/she isn't the fastest turtle in the world. In fact, it rarely moves, so the delightful little urchins thought it would be fun to add it to the punch for extra reptilian flavor. I rescued poor Turtle and told the kids that if they got near him/her again they'd have to drink the punch. I'm never having kids.
To my fellow Americans: have a fun and safe Fourth, lock away your pets, ductape the kids to the wall, and last but not least: bottoms up!
