The Barbecue King Loses His Crown

The pressure all got too much for the self professed Barbecue King when he delivered a feast of distinctly average proportions this weekend.

The first sign that the Greek God(zilla) might be slightly off his game was when he returned home from the supermarket shop with only half of the food items I was expecting.

This is actually not that unusual, he regularly edits the shopping list as he wanders the aisles; replacing things that he does not like such as mushrooms, courgettes and pink lady apples with things that he does like – you know, essentials such as Haloumi, houmous and multipacks of coke zeros.

However, this time the absence of eggs, bread and teabags was down to both the shopping list, and his phone, being left at home.  Alas, nothing new there either.

We believe it all started with the tzatziki, which was uncharacteristically runny and without its familiar punch of garlic, but the first real sense we got of the theme to come, was when we tried to cut into the rock solid hotdog rolls.

This led to a mad dash to the local corner shop for bread, which was the kind you have to cook in the oven, in turn delaying food being taken off the grill for another 15-minutes.

It all went downhill from there.

We had to scrape the burnt skin off the sausages before the kids would even look at them, let alone put one anywhere near their plate.

The potatoes were so overdone, I mistook them for lumps of coal.

The burgers had been made so small, it took 4 of them to fill a single bun.

The lamb steaks were cooked to perfection. However, we were the only two eating those.

By the time the chicken thighs were ready, we were all too stuffed from the vegetable crisps and olives to even try one.

There is no kind way of saying this… it was an absolute disaster.

However, this Barbecue King was not about to go out with his fire.

“You’re ok to finish off in here, aren’t you love?” he said as he threw in his tongs, grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, and settled down for the night in front of the footie.

*****

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