While growing up, my dad would tell me surfing stories from his childhood. He described days spent driving up and down the California Coast, searching for that “perfect wave.” Every once in a while, he would catch that wave. He said, in those moments, it was almost like time stopped—and he was in unison with something that was more than just a wave. It was something . . . uncontrollable.
This is what I feel when I am cooking over fire.
Cooking with fire is not about fancy grills, expensive meat, or crazy recipes. It has been, and always will be, about learning to work with something not fully controllable: fire. No, I am not talking about the science and chemistry of fire. I am underqualified to even attempt that conversation (though it’s flattering if you thought that’s what I meant). I am talking about how fire is unpredictable, unwavering, and uninterested in doing what you tell it to do.