FEATURE
If you are what you eat, I’m now a ‘dirty’
steak basted in a Simon & Garfunkel
lyric of parsley, rosemary and thyme
nestled on a bed of coals with a few
whisky-smoked wood chips and looking
forward to a dry rub.
I am in the back garden of a cottage
hidden amid the bucolic bustle of a
mid-Devon hamlet. But this is no ordinary
garden. The wardrobe in Marcus Bawdon’s
house takes you not to Narnia but to
barbecue nirvana.
This is my first day at UK BBQ School;
actually it’s my only day and I have signed
up to the beginner’s course. Rather late in
life I have decided to attempt to wrest the
tongs from my Australian wife, Kelly, who
won’t let a Pom near anything that
combines fire and food al fresco.
It is safe to assume the first barbecue was
lit back when cavemen rubbed sticks
together, unaware their ‘can’t start a fire
without a spark’ Neanderthal mumble
would be used by Bruce Springsteen a
million or so years later.
But when the history of this most
primitive form of cooking is written, the last
few years will earn a chapter of their own
clumsily titled: ‘When the British stopped
moaning about the weather and setting off
the fire alarm and started eating outdoors
at every opportunity’.
ALPHA-MALE STATUS
My childhood memories convinced me
barbecues were only for summer holidays
and most of mine took place in Devon.
The patio area of the cottage above the
Yealm estuary was home to a filthy old grill
on rusty legs with spiders the size of
Plymouth in residence. The only meat was
sausages, and dads, swilling red wine in
homage to Keith Floyd but without the
culinary skills to match, fought for
alpha-male status around the excuse for a
flame. However, the smoke billowed out
over the water, the hired rowing boat
bobbed and all was right with the world –
if not the sausages. Knock up a potato
salad, shelter from the wind and rain and
that was your annual barbecue.
How times have changed, with ever-more
sophisticated outdoor cooking appliances
to grill, fry, smoke and roast.
So on arrival at CountryWoodSmoke,
Bawdon’s backyard barbecue business, I
assumed I’d simply have to learn how to
control the knob on some gas- or
electric-fired monster, which in this age of
smart technology would probably talk to
me and set the temperature and timer,
allowing me to draw the cork on a Malbec
and wait for the ping to signal lunch was
ready. Now Bawdon has a lot of kit that he
BBQ | Spring 2020 | 19