Incensed

I fired up the barbecue (seppos: think "grill") tonight to do some jerk chicken.  It tasted pretty good, even though I didn't actually have any rum in the house so I had to use French brandy instead.  You know how I'm one of those guys who just happens to have some old French brandy stashed away in the back of the cupboard.

Anyway, it turns out that brandy instead of rum gives the jerk chicken quite a different taste.  Imagine that Admiral Villeneuve triumphed at Trafalgar rather than Admiral Nelson - and the West Indies were dominated by the French from that day forth.  That's what it tasted like.  Quelle magnifique!

The Hatchling liked it too.  She's pretty good with weird tasting food - it's really only chilli that she draws the line at and we're making progress there too.  Although I suppose there is a difference between eating something and actually enjoying it.  She was full of compliments tonight once I'd fired up the barbecue though.  "Mmm, that smells amazing Dad!"

I had to break it to her that I hadn't actually put the chicken on the grill yet - the clouds of fragrant smoke pouring out were simply the incinerated remains of the last twelve things I've cooked on it, since I don't put much effort into cleaning it.  It's the Australian way.