FEATURE
controls with the mastery of an astronaut
manning a space shuttle. But our first
lesson was about getting naked and dirty –
back to basics; cooking in its purest form.
Hands up who, when weekend sun is
promised, dashes to the nearest garage
and grabs a couple of garish bags of
charcoal leaning up outside next to the
newspapers? Well, says Bawdon, that’s
your first mistake. “The right charcoal is
absolutely key. Instant-lighting bags might
be convenient but what’s in them? You
really don’t want your barbecue smelling of
wax. You need to use pure, clean-burning
charcoal with no added chemicals.”
As a rule of thumb, the best charcoal can
be lit with paper or cardboard and you can
use a chimney starter to speed up ignition.
“If your fire burns clean and white
rather than ashy or smoky, that’s a sign of
good charcoal. Good lumpwood charcoal
or the embers of birch, oak or beech work
well, too.”
Knowing when the barbecue is hot
enough is as much about intuition as
temperature control, says Bawdon. “I use all
the senses. You see it, smell it, feel it, hear it
and get to know how the meat reacts.”
Time to cook my dirty steak. “You’ve
got a nice level bed of embers. Put it
directly on the coals.” Straight on?
Where’s the grill, my trusty safety net? It’s
a leap of faith but Bawdon (above) is right.
Direct heat exposure is best. The smoke, a
seasoning, seems clearer and the steak
happier draped on the embers like a
duvet, rather than perched precariously
between rungs of fire.
BUTCHER’S STEAK
My steak is a hanger steak, commonly
known as skirt steak in the UK (think Daisy’s
diaphragm) and often referred to as
butcher’s steak, as it is packed with flavour
but a best-kept trade secret. Butchers won’t
put hangers out on a summer’s tray day,
they keep them for their own home cooking.
“You don’t need to buy the best fillets
for a barbecue,” says Bawdon. “Take a
less-exalted cut like hanger and make
it great.”
You’re looking for a cut that is dry-aged,
not too red and with some marbling,
rendering down the fat. There is no
seasoning at this ‘dirty’ stage – salt draws
out moisture and pepper will burn.
Bawdon cooks ‘dirty fish’, too, and, as a
keen fly fisherman, wood-fired rainbow
trout is a favourite. He will stick a scallop in
20 | Spring 2020 | BBQ
its shell on a silver birch log, too.
As Bawdon imparts wood chips of
wisdom, he is whipping up a baste –
nothing fancy: olive oil, garlic, sea salt, a
line of Simon & Garfunkel and an anchovy.
“I’m not really one for measuring,” he says.
Time to taste, and Bawdon produces
home-made rosemary and sea-salt
focaccia to drop the steak on. “Cut across
the fibres.” You feel like beating your
chest before you bite in. Man makes fire
makes food. This is primal; this is personal.
In the land of the barbecue the rib-eyed
man is king.
“Grab a beer from the fridge,” instructs
Bawdon. This prompts Gavin Moss, another
pupil, to produce a flier promoting his
Barbecue Shack range of products, which
includes a beer chiller fashioned out of an
old oil drum, as well as hand-made
barbecues, smokers, sinks and fire pits.
It appears our class is full of students
with special reasons for learning more
about cooking with fire. Mark Moody from
veg box company Riverford is extolling
the virtues of adding leeks and black
garlic to the feast, while Ben Laxon of