Dan Morris: Throw another sheep on the barbie
Destiny is smiling on us, people. National Barbecue Week is almost here, and – at least at the time of this meat-hungry scrivener’s writing – we’re actually going to get the weather for it.
I’ve sung from the rooftops on many a previous occasion about my love of barbecues and am sure I am joined by all men everywhere in stating that this, quite simply, is the way all food should be cooked.
‘Cooked’ is a kind term – when I’m at the helm it’s usually ‘burned’. Yet, my spirit never falters, and, frosty beverage firmly in hand, there are few activities I derive more pleasure from than firing up the grill and giving some of God’s most noble yet delicious creatures a good taste of the flames.
When I was a kid, I don’t remember family barbecues really exceeding the sausage, burger and bun shortlist. Yet nowadays, barbies are a lot sexier.
Fish in foil, marinades from all corners of the globe, and cuts of prime pork I didn’t even know existed have found their way onto my plate at the many fabulous al fresco food fests I’ve attended over the last decade.
And, with TV shows like Man vs Food having taught us to embrace gluttony in all its glory, the once humble British barbecue has now been replaced by a far more extravagant affair. Bring it on!
There is nothing – absolutely nothing at all – that brings people together like an exuberant feast, and those wonderful barbecues are the apex of this.
The particularly beautiful thing about a good ol’ barbie is that the preparation and cooking of the tucker is itself part of the party, and a joyous social experience at that.
When prepping a dinner indoors, I prefer to be left very much alone, kitchen door shut, shielding my precious pots and pans from the barrage of ne'er-do-wells and charlatans who can’t resist coming to ‘help’ by sticking their fingers in absolutely everything.
Heathens – every single one of them.
Yet when I man the barbie, I’m putting on a show, and I love as many spectators as possible to pay homage to the flying circus that is.
Barbecues are wonderfully indulgent affairs where all pretence of healthy eating is often quite rightly abandoned. But, of course, it doesn’t have to be this way.
These days it is perfectly possible to host a ‘slim-fit’ barbie, and make those calorie-conscious souls of the Instagram age as happy as Larry.
I can’t really pretend to understand such weirdos particularly well, but it's good that they can enjoy the fun without assaulting their ever-precious waistlines.
Much more importantly, with the British agricultural industry still experiencing an almost unprecedented period of nervousness and toil thanks to anti-farmer Starmer, in lighting up the barbecue, many of us can be doing our bit to put a few shillings back in the pockets of our local producers. Winner, winner, dirty dinner.
National BBQ Week 2025 will mark the 29th year of this celebration of all things we can char, and I for one will be making the most of it. Brisket is pretty big these days, and though I’ve never braved serving one previously, this year will be the year. There will be an abundance of firm favourites on the Morris family barbie as the week progresses – pork belly very much making the top of the list.
I’m a big fan of kebabs (because everything is better when skewered), and a lovely bit of herby lemon chicken never misses.
I will make one concession to the ‘no meat’ brigade.
What you lads and lasses do with halloumi cheese is spellbinding, and this glorious creation of Cypriots almighty has, for a long time now, been a mainstay of my barbecue plate.
Creamy, salty perfection, and the ideal accompaniment (not alternative) to a decent helping of flame-grilled animal flesh.
With my tastebuds now getting far too excited, I’m going to have to bow out for the week and get my masterpiece marinades and rubs a’rocking.
Whatever booty is set to grace your barbie next week – and indeed for the whole summer to come – we at Weekend Towers wish you a successful succession of sizzlers that surpass your most daring of dreams.
Let us also raise our glasses to the most truly blokey and British of social gatherings that quite simply make life worth living.
Throw another shrimp/sheep on the barbie, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get this party started…
