Notes from the fireside

I have consumed a lot of grilled food in my lifetime, yet until the other day I had never tried to grill anything myself. I didn’t really need to, but I wanted to learn something new. After almost seven years of blogging about food and with exactly one post featuring sinugba to show for it — well, shame on me.

But better late than never, no? While it wasn't the best day for the Pope to visit our island (Tacloban was under storm warning signal 2), for my purposes it was perfect: gusty and cold, so I did not have to do much fanning to stoke the coals, and was even grateful for the heat. And not much rain, at least in these parts (we’re situated further down south).

Grilling sounds straightforward and menial: you put something raw over an open heat source and wait for it to cook. But if you have ever had to send undercooked chicken or pork back to a restaurant’s grilling station — and this has happened to me more often than I care to count — you realize that even the pros don’t always get it right. Even if I don’t find Gordon Ramsay’s antics on Hell’s Kitchen amusing, I get his frustration. There’s nothing more irksome than food not cooked to proper doneness. Who cares whether you’re grilling on a Kalamazoo (base price: $10,495!) or with makeshift wooden sticks? If seasoned well and done right, bring on the extra rice.

At home we use a generic kettle grill. At 30 centimeters in diameter it’s quite small and just right for us. We don’t grill for parties, although if and when I get the hang of it, who knows? I’m not beyond showing off. I even learned a trick from a visit to a brick oven manufacturer years ago. Put some charcoal in a glass jar and soak with denatured alcohol. Take a briquette or two whenever you need tinder (look, Ma — no paper!). Just remember to keep the jar tightly closed and away from curious eyes or idle/nefarious hands at all times.

But let’s back up a bit, shall we? When prepping the coals, bank them to one side (or on both sides) of the pit. If you’re grilling thin slices of pork you probably won’t need to do it, but I prefer mine at least an inch thick so it’s crucial to have a section with indirect heat for extended cooking times. By the way, any mention of meat in this post refers to pork, okay? Grilling beef or poultry is another ballgame.

Anyway, once you have fired up the coals to a vigorous glow (no open flame), that’s when you start grilling. Brush the grill with oil and make sure it’s hot before placing the meat over the part with indirect heat — you don’t want them to burn before they’ve cooked all the way through. Sear the meat on all sides before subjecting them to heat central. Watch out for flare-ups; have a fan (or H₂O in a spray bottle) ready. And don’t be afraid to turn the meat; as long as it is dry, it will sear properly, so turn as often as you like (it also prevents burning). The important thing is that the meat cooks evenly. When in doubt, make an incision at the thickest part (or along the bone) to check for telltale signs of blood.

We typically grill pork with nothing more than salt and garlic, but here I used Cajun seasoning and it turned out equally good. To make your own, mix two teaspoons each of salt, garlic powder, and paprika; a teaspoon each of black pepper, onion powder, cayenne, dried oregano, and dried thyme; and half a teaspoon of dried chili flakes. Pat the meat dry, coat evenly with the mix, and let sit for at least 30 minutes before grilling.

And don’t forget that extra rice.