The Aussie Barbecue

It's strange to be heading into the barbecue season here, at the end of September.

Yesterday (Saturday) was a glorious spring day: temps in the low 80s, sunshine, a warm breeze, and newly mown grass, flowers blooming, and eucalyptus (gum trees) spicing the air.

Steve and I let the fire in the woodstove die out in the morning, and while having brekky of scrambled eggs and cantaloupe (called rock-melon here) played a rousing game of Super Scrabble. The board is bigger, has quadruple word scores, triple and quadruple letter scores and twice as many tiles. I won, which is a rare occurrence, with a score of 626 to his 587.

Anyway, the day was spent leisurely...my housework, his lawn mowing, and at the end of the day he started up the smoky Joe for a dinner of barbecued steak, sweet corn on the cob, and more cantaloupe. We also watched Field of Dreams, which he'd never seen. I love it when a man is so moved that he gets tears in his eyes during a movie. But I digress...

We weren't the only ones getting into the "spring" of things here. Our other neighbors on acre-blocks mowed their lawns and fired up their grillers. It made me think of something I read in a book we have, called Aussie Etiket, or doing things the Aussie way, by John O'Grady. By the way, Aussie is pronounced "Ozzie." Anything in brackets [such as this] are my comments.

On barbecues: "Barbecues, on fine Saturdays or Sundays, are a feature of the Australian suburban and country landscape. That haze that you see covering the continent as you fly in is not fog. It is chop-sausage and steak-flavored wood or charcoal smoke which will delight your nose when you descend from the aircraft.

"Anti-pollution laws do not, and probably never will, apply to barbecues.

"When you have made friends with a few of the indigenous inhabitants of our country, you will be invited to a barbecue. The etiket:

"Dress: Extremely casual. Never, never, never suit and tie. An attractive and interesting female will be welcome, since there is no sex segregation at barbecues. But an off-white butcher's paper parcel of cookable meats will insult your host. He will always 'know a butcher' who gives him the 'best cuts' and he will have 'laid on' enough for everybody. If you feel that you must bring something in lieu of, or in addition to an interesting and attractive female, bring half-a dozen of beer or a flagon of Red Ned. (Red Ned? 'Vin rouge ordinaire,' officially labeled claret or dry red.) [Likely in salute to Ned Kelly, a notorious and killer bush-ranger which for some reason is considered a hero in Australia...look him up in Wikipedia. The American version of him would be close to Jesse James.]

"Conventional decorum: Women prepare the salads and all other trimmings, organize the plates, cutlery, glasses, condiments, etc. (Your bird's [woman's] offer to help will be appreciated) and your host cooks the meats. He will be, by his own admission, the best barbecuer of steak, chops [lamb or mutton] and sausages 'this side of the black stump.' And even if his chops are burnt, and his steaks ooze blood, and his sausages burst open at both ends, you must congratulate him and eat everything he puts on your plate. The words, 'Bloody good tucker, this,' will be appropriate. [tucker is Australian for food]

"You must also register a favorable reaction to his humorous apron and funny hat. But--and this is important--you must watch your language. The word 'bloody' is all right, but avoid all profanity unless and until your host gives you a lead.

'He may, when the women are washing up (and your offer to help will get you in good with the women, but will be politely refused) entertain you with a scurrilous song or two of Army, Navy or Air Force origin. In which case, any contribution you may be able to make will 'get you in good' with him.

"Finally, do not be either the first or the last to leave. A too early departure will reflect unfavorably on the quality of the hospitality, and an unduly delayed one will get you a sarcastic offer of 'a bed for the night.' Go with the 'strength,' and do not neglect to thank your hostess with a few appropriate words and a kiss on the cheek or hand. This will 'go down big,' and ensure you another invitation."

This bit of wisdom is true, as I have observed. Barbecuing is a male thing here. When we have a a lot of people over on a summer afternoon, the men congregate around Steve while he handles various meats on our large gas barbecue and the smoky Joe. They compliment him on how he turns the meat and rotates corn on the cob in foil and flips thick-sliced potatoes and onions. Women are in the kitchen, all have brought salads of some sort, and help me clean up.

If someone stays late, Steve announces he is going to bed.

I don't know if I will ever get used to being kissed on the cheek by males and females.

But always, at the end of the day, I am happy and satisfied, and look forward to the next barbecue, whether we host it or we are guests.

Long live the Aussie barbecue.