I doubt anyone would describe me as an alpha male type of person.
I’m highly impractical. I don’t shout at hockey games, I’ve never been in a bar fight, and I would severely struggle to start a campfire.
I do, however, have a beard — of which I’m quite proud.
I own several flannel shirts, a hat, and two axes. I drink whiskey and have a modest collection of smoking pipes.
But then again, I have yet to saw a board in any way that doesn’t resemble modern art, and I’ve never changed a tire.
From an objective point of view, there’s a clear discrepancy between who I think I might want to be (in this very limited field — in general, I’m quite happy with who I am) and who I actually am.
I would guess that I’m not alone in finding it hard to balance the modern-day male role with the more traditional, macho version.
I think I’m aiming for something somewhere between John McClane and Phil Dunphy. A truly unholy combination — I know!
Then along came — the Kamado Joe Classic III.
Finally, it all makes sense. I’ve found the perfect balance.
Let me explain.
In my social circles, there’s been a growing interest in charcoal grilling. As we’ve all gotten a little older and a little better off, a few rather excessive grill purchases have been made.
I stuck to my guns, insisting that gas was far superior. All that charcoal nonsense was just primitive.
Still, I had to admit — they did look good out in the backyards of my friends.
A few months ago, I caved. There was a sale, and I went all in on a Kamado-type grill. The flagship model, naturally — with all the bells and whistles.
Nothing but the best… for a complete novice.
It’s taken a while to get the hang of it: different types of coal, wood chunks, timing, smoking, searing — basically, a lot of YouTube.
But now, I feel confident around my precious red, egg-shaped companion.
And to my surprise, it’s also made finding that balance between macho and modern a little easier. It offers the perfect mix of the two.
I get to wear my flannel shirt and start a fire.
Cook food over glowing coals and feel like old-time masculinity personified.
Throw large slabs of raw meat on the grate and watch them transform into pure awesomeness — all while wearing an apron over my flannel shirt to avoid stains. I’m not an animal!
It’s all in the mix and the balance.
As an enthusiastic non-delegator — and someone utterly incapable of cooperating in the kitchen — I also do the shopping, set the table, pick the playlist, mix the sauce, toss the salad, and light the candles.
And somewhere between the charcoal smoke and the candlelight, I think I’ve found it — that elusive balance between caveman and companion.
Fire and playlist.
Meat and manners.
The modern caveman.
