Men Eat Meat – George’s Barbecue

grilled pork
Men eat meat.

From this fact, I have figured out that the word “meat,” is derived from the contraction of “men eat,” indicating that what men eat is pretty much, well, meat. Sure, there are guys out there who will have a salad at lunch, or eat a quiche with you for brunch, but they’re just trying to work their way into your breakfast in bed. There are the few guys who are vegetarian, or even vegan, but really now, those guys are fighting their basic instinct. Men eat meat.

This has never been made more clear to me than at George’s barbecue.

George is an early-forties, looks-like-mid-thirties, acts like late-teens, bachelor with a very nice bachelor pad on the Westside. Thankfully, unlike some bachelors I know (yeah, I’m lookin’ at you), George has graduated from the class of college dorm futons to real furniture. I would even go so far as to say that his place is two floors above Ikea. Now that’s impressive.

Somehow I ended up crashing what I must now call George’s dude party. A dude party is exactly what it sounds like – all guys, save for moi, the lonely girl, though you wouldn’t have guessed my predilection for all things pink from the way I was screaming at the tv. However, it wasn’t a dude party because it was all men. A bunch of gentlemen at a wine tasting is also all men, but that is most definitely not a dude party.

George’s football-viewing, beer-spewing, chest-beating, meat-eating, barbecue was a dude party.

george's dude barbecue - Buffalo wings
chicken is meat
george's dude barbecue - spicy sausages
sausage fest. literally.

It was a dude party because every course was meat. Not “had” meat, as if meat were merely some main ingredient flanked by non-meat side ingedients, like pasta or God forbid, vegetables. “Was” meat, as in, it was all meat and only meat, from Buffalo wings as hors d’ouevre to spicy sausage for appetizers to an enormous grilled pork loin for an entree. Even dessert. I suppose you could consider it European to have a cheese course at the end of the meal as “dessert.” George served cheese for dessert. It was melted on top of a burger. I think they had to use buns because bunless burgers hint precariously at low-carb-diet, and dudes don’t do “diet.”

george's dude barbecue - grilled pork
have knife. must cut.
george's dude barbecue - burgers
to serve the cheese course

It was a dude party because the only vegetables that George served through the entire afternoon and into the evening were potatoes. I think they’re formally called…chips.

That statement about the vegetables is not entirely true. We had a salad, but it was an afterthought. George had every intention from the outset to serve the salad, as he had all the requisite ingredients, but had I not made some comment about all-meat, the salad would have slipped under George’s slightly intoxicated radar. “That’s right. Can you make a salad? Everything’s in the fridge.” I made a salad and was duly impressed by Feta cheese and fancy greens, though I had been hoping for iceberg lettuce. I was afraid it wouldn’t be enough for the dozen guests. It was enough. I think the guys thought it was garnish.

george's dude barbecue - chips
potatoes are vegetables
george's dude barbecue - salad
salad enough for…one girl

George’s barbecue was a fascinating, somewhat eye-opening study in dudes for me because I wasn’t exposed much to dude-dom growing up. We were a household of girls, and though it was never a question that my father was the man of the house, he was never a “dude.” Sure, my Dad took part in some stereotypically “dude” activities but it was never as a dude. Dad doesn’t drink beer, or any alcohol, for that matter. He doesn’t watch sports except the Super Bowl, and that’s only at the end to find out who wins so he knows how to trade on the stock market come Monday morning. He didn’t read any dude magazines of any sort, at least, not that I ever saw or “discovered” (hidden away in hid desk in the library). I think the only magazines her ever read were…none. He didn’t read magazines, and that only bothered me when he told me magazines were empty words and refused to support me and my school in our annual magazine sales fundraiser. My Dad read books about finance and that was it. Though it’s not strange, Dad most certainly never ever went near anything that was associated with cooking. That’s everything in the kitchen, but it also includes the patio. Dad lit the flame on the grill (because it’s potentially hazardous and requires technical skill), but he left the “cooking” of galbee to Mom, and later to me.

Dad doesn’t grill, but that’s because he is not a dude. George’s barbecue taught me that “dudes,” no matter what their skill level or actual experience has been at the grill, love to grill.

george's dude barbecue - chips
dude, maybe you should turn it over

Grilling has nothing to do with cooking. Grilling has everything to do with fire. It’s a peculiar phenomenon, what overcomes men when they sense fire. Like heat-seeking missiles, men are magentically drawn to the fire of a grill. Suddenly they are half-naked, a circle of animal pelts around their waist, beating their hairy chests. Even if they have never ever before even so much as stepped foot in a kitchen, nor ever once before manned a grill, it’s like an animal instinct – the way a newborn shark just knows it’s supposed to swim and start looking for Nemo. They become warrior-hunters and grilling is some final after-the-hunt ritual of throwing the s
acrifical pork tenderloin on its funeral pyre. If the food on the grill requires only one dude to cook, it doesn’t matter. The other dudes stand in a ceremonial semi-circle and grunt their approval.

Even when Buffalo wings that have already been cooked in the kitchen’s oven and they taste fine, one of the warriors captures them in the wilds of the cocktail table jungle and returns to the grill with his prize of fresh kill. I will admit, though the extra grilling wasn’t absolutely necessary, the wings definitely did taste better. I sucked them bones dry.

george's dude barbecue - Buffalo wings
hunting for totonka (wings)
george's dude barbecue - aftermath of the hunt
aftermath of the buffalo hunt

I learned about dudes and their magazines, but I am not going to talk about the shelves, not just stacks, of magazines in George’s bathroom. This is not that kind of blog. ;)

However, I did learn about beer and dudes at George’s. If men like to eat meat and play with fire, they also like to drink beer. The taste for beer, of course, I have never understood. Dad doesn’t drink beer, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t have beer in the house. Mom is the consummate hostess, and always kept fresh beer in the refrigerator for surprise guests who preferred beer over wine or cocktails. Mom also drank beer, saying that nothing was more refreshing than an ice-cold beer after a day on the links, in the garden, or grilling galbee. Up until George’s barbecue, I knew about beer, and I even tried beer every once in a while, just to see what my Mom was talking about. Every time I tasted beer though, I would wince, scrunch up my face and finally decide (again) that I hate beer’s bitterness. Sometimes I can handle a Hefeweizen or a Corona because those have citrus juice added to them, and only after I’m already at a point where I don’t care what I’m drinking.

george's dude barbecue - beer
a re-introduction to beer
george's dude barbecue - tequila
tequila turns back time to 21

Of course, for guys, it’s sort of the other way around. They start off with beer, and once their judgment becomes slightly hazy, they regress. If there are other dudes in a ring of fire, no matter how old they are, guys are 21 in Tijuana. They start doing tequila shots.

It was a lovely, meaty lesson in dude-ness.

If ever I thought I didn’t know, now I know.

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{ 17 comments… read them below or add one }

1 MagicTofu January 31, 2006 at 4:05 pm

I see a good occasion to start a new gender war so let me say it plainly:

girls eat sweets, even for main course. ;-)

(uhmmm meat!)


2 jason January 31, 2006 at 8:21 pm

omg that pic is so damn sexy…


3 yunjae January 31, 2006 at 11:16 pm

is it me or are the dates on these entries off?


4 yunjae January 31, 2006 at 11:16 pm

is it me or are the dates on these entries off?


5 eric yang January 31, 2006 at 11:29 pm

I heart beef and being from the South I heart grilled/bbq’d meat even more. Yes, even for dessert.


6 Craig February 1, 2006 at 12:25 am

ms. delicious life lives in an alternative universe that is 2 weeks behind all of us, unfortunately for her that means that the Colts just loss their playoff game a couple of days ago. :)


7 djjewelz February 1, 2006 at 4:34 am

^ lol!


8 sarah February 1, 2006 at 4:39 am

call me mrs. manning.

and yes, i am still in mourning over the game. ;)


9 rick james February 1, 2006 at 9:59 am

you should have been ms. brady… life would be so much happier…

love your writing!! so hilarious !
any old nachos or chilifries archives?
where are your favs?

put up a blog of retarded things… come visit and get stupid ;)


10 Gloria February 2, 2006 at 2:38 am

Omg, I would have LOVED that BBQ, and teehee, would not have bothered with salad, or anything remotely healthy. After all, if you’re having tequila shots, there’s lime there, and that counts as fruit.


11 Neil February 2, 2006 at 10:21 pm

If we say we know you, can we get ourselves invited to George’s next BBQ?


12 Anonymous February 3, 2006 at 3:32 am

that reminds me of a restaurant idea i had a while back about a giant barbeque that everyone’s invited to everyday. just a giant grill, a keg full of beer and bottles and bottle of tequila. yeehah!


13 Mr. Cutlets February 3, 2006 at 6:21 pm

I approve of this event entirely.

Mr. Cutlets


14 hermz February 3, 2006 at 8:31 pm

Sophomore year at NU I was in charge of the grill for football game tailgates for our group. It was a 2′ x 3′ grill. I had no hair at all on my hands that fall.


15 sarah February 5, 2006 at 8:08 pm

dietchilicheesefries: nachos – yes, i have MANY a post on nachos. i have this nasty, dirty love affair with the “nachos” at benito’s taco shop – chips double fried in animal lard, and blanketed with curly yellow and white “afro cheese.” they’re horribly horrible, and yet, oh so good. i love that name, btw!


16 er.brith June 17, 2008 at 2:22 am

Can you tell me the address of George’s Barbeque. More usefull if You tell me his email. I have something to discuss with him. Thanks before. ^o^


17 mherzog January 4, 2009 at 8:17 pm

I’m a man. I don’t eat meat. See this video to see why:


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