My background can be described as humble and working class. I was the nerdy outlier and continue to be. My siblings, especially my eldest brother, would often delight in circumstances where I demonstrated a lack of what he loved to call common sense. It was always delivered in a context that sounded like this: “you might be book smart, but you don’t have common sense.” Others sometimes use the phrase street smarts.
I was always fascinated by this narrative. And I found it came up when somebody would try to dismiss a small cognitive lapse. “Well, I’m a seller, not a speller.” or “Yeah, well I might not be book smart, but I got street smarts.” It can also come up in political settings: “You coastal elites don’t have the common sense of the common people.”
To be sure, this blog post is not about epistemology or the psychology of decision making. It’s about a recent moment when I was on the other side of this equation during a recent conversation. And the conversation was about the price of food and kids who cook.
A bunch of dads was having beers a few nights ago, and the discussion turned into how much it costs to take a family out to dinner. And how restaurants are cutting staff to save on operational costs. One restaurant, where patrons choose their meats and grill it themselves on hot rocks, was mentioned. In the way that I am prone to do, I blurted out: “Oh I fucking hate that place! $17 bucks for 4oz of chicken breast and I still have to grill it myself? We can do that at home.”
One dad said, “Well if you factor in your time and what it takes…”
I stopped him and said, “Oh no, these days I don’t do shit. My kids operate the grill. I decided to teach them how to grill their own food at home.”
I was met with some incredulity. Another dad: “Well factor in the cost of the ‘mistakes’…” I stopped him and said, “We’ve had few mistakes.”
Boy, that was followed by the “you are such an asshole” look I typically get from other parents when I casually discuss my parenting adventures. And I found myself almost saying, “What? Teach your kids useful stuff. Isn’t that just common sense?”
And it dawned on me at that moment. There is no such thing as common sense. There’s just teaching and learning.
Unconsciously, I had been teaching my kids how to grill food for years – slowly deploying grill management in tiny operational steps. That’s how I learn and execute. So it didn’t occur to me that I had been teaching them how to prepare a meal on the grill, step by step, for a dozen or more people. And I decided to bang out this post, after neglecting DaddyKamp for six months, because their training resulted in both my boys making an entire meal for 20+ people yesterday. All while the adults sat and enjoyed cocktails.
Phase One – Prep: For years, I asked them to do one simple thing. Remove the ash from my 16-year-old Weber Kettle. And as we grill often, they had lots of opportunities to practice. Weber’s One-Touch Cleaning system makes it easy. Again, they did just this for years.
Phase Two – Fire: They couldn’t get enough of this phase. “You want to play with matches, do you? Well here’s your opportunity!” I asked them to fill my Weber Rapidfire Chimney Starter with Kingsford coals, add some paper (old homework!), and light that match. Boom, another thing I didn’t have to anymore.
Phase Three – Dump and Scrub: Again, it took some time but when they got strong enough, I had them lift the grill off, pour in the coals, replace the grill and scrub away. “Let me know when I can add the food.” One more thing I could check off the list of something I’ll never have to do again.
Phase Four – Veggies: Veggies are great first items to grill for one great reason. Most grilled veggies are great undergrilled. That is, some heat and the beginnings of char is plenty. Corn, peppers, onions, asparagus, parboiled artichokes, tomatoes. All of these don’t have to be grilled for a long time. This is important because your kid will likely be anxious about burning their first grilled food. So they’ll put the veggies on, panic, then take them right off. “Awesome! Good job junior! You didn’t ruin dinner!”
Phase Five – Ownership: “Well, what do you want to grill?” This is where the hotdogs and frozen burger patties come in. Because it’s their food, they won’t be as anxious. And if they mess it up, they learn a valuable lesson. And I’m not eating that shit anyway. “You done with the grill kid? Okay, get out of the way because I’m cooking momma and me a tri-tip and some salmon. Enjoy that burnt hotdog.” But here are two things: 1)They’ll love and devour their own burnt hot dogs or slightly “juicy” hamburgers. 2) They’ll get better at it the craft over time.
Getting Fancy – Cheeseburgers!
Phase Six – Collaboration: “Little man. If I marinate some chicken, can you grill it for me later?” “Sure dad!” “Thanks, dude.” Voila. I start with chicken because they like that stuff, too. Also, kettle grilling is perfect for something like chicken. Put the chicken on the grill. Cover. DO NOT TOUCH THE COVER OR GRILL. The slowly dying and oxygen deprived coals will reduce the risk of over charring and provide a great roasting environment. Remove the chicken after 35-40 minutes.
Phase Seven – The Big Show: “Marinate the chicken. Let me know when dinner is ready!”
One less thing I have to do!
So I’d be lying if I said I planned to do all of this. I did want to teach them this at some point. But I didn’t realize in asking them to do little steps along the way over the years, that I was teaching them – in a nice, orderly, low risk, and operationally sound way.
I taught a three-hour workshop yesterday and invited the attendees over to our house for a bbq. “Food should be ready by the time we all get back to the house.”
“Who’s cooking?”
“The boys!”
Again with the incredulity and the “you are such an asshole” looks.
But little dude grilled up some chicken and corn. Some guests brought shishito peppers so he grilled those up, too. And while little dude was managing the grill, little dude’s little brother cooked up some taco meat and set up a taco bar. And he managed that on the stove top. But that’s for another post.
*PostScript. We have friends who also have amazing kids. After the bbq, their twelve-year-old approached Lori: “Hey, can I bake some cookies?” What?!?! Sure! They were so good. We asked for another batch and told him we’d invest in his neighborhood cookie subscription service.
