©Donna PierceI guess I have been watching too much of The Food Network. And because I log in so many hours with TV chefs, I immediately said “yes” when a TV reporter asked if a camera crew could come to my home to interview me for a demonstration about grilled vegetables.
I envisioned myself standing before the camera, wearing a chic outfit, rattling off vegetable-grilling wisdom while I created wonderful dishes.
Then reality set in. My 9-year-old kettle needed a new grill. The weather forecast called for a humid days with temperatures more than 90 degrees. And since the barbecue grill had been the one cooking appliance that didn’t fall under my jurisdiction at the house, I had very little actual hands-on experience with a grill.
At that moment I decided to adopt a more spiritual approach and hold an imaginary conversation with one of my food writing heroines, the late M.F.K. Fisher.
In what can best be described as a culinary seance, I asked for recipes, and she returned succinct answers.
“Asparagus, red peppers, eggplant, olive oil,” she replied to my grilling question. “The trick is not to turn your back on the grill, use tongs to turn them often and keep them brushed with olive oil.”
On the day of the interview, I bought a new metal grill, two small vegetable racks and a very chic oven mitt.
I purchased three red peppers, a pound of asparagus, three pounds of new potatoes, two eggplants, a leek and portobello mushrooms. The bag of charcoal marked as self-lighting seemed like a good idea.
It was 96 degrees on the deck when I lit the charcoal at 2:24 p.m.
The ensuing fireball might not have been so frightening had it not been for the sudden afternoon wind burst that made the deck feel like standing in the middle of a furnace.
When flames finally died down, I brought out the platters of food I had arranged in the kitchen in miss en place perfection. Salt and herbs arranged in little bowls…prepped vegetables displayed on exquisite fashion-forward plates coordinated to match the pre-grilled plates in a brilliant before and after display.
The telephone rang just as the fire reached the perfect temperature for grilling. It was someone from the station calling to say that the reporter was running late and that they would keep me posted.
I hung up the phone and walked back onto the deck to find my son bouncing a basketball next to the grill. When he looked at me, his words were guarded and polite.
“Maybe you should comb your hair,” he said.
I dashed back to glance at a mirror and could barely recognize myself. I resembled a frantic firefighter coming off of a six-hour shift.
When I checked back with M.F.K. Fisher, she said,“Cook while the fire is hot. If you want advice about style and fashion, talk to Coco Chanel.”
I used my tongs and basting brush to grill the asparagus spears on the mini-grill. The eggplant slices went on next. I circled the grill with red peppers and filled in the empty spaces with thick slices of portobello mushroom.
I checked my telephone messages when I finished. A peppy reporter’s voice apologized for missing the interview. “I hope you put the veggies in the refrigerator so we can film tomorrow,” she said.
Instead, I parceled everything off to neighbors who by now have become accustomed to impromptu food deliveries.
I declined the reporter’s request for another appointment. Yes, I still want to cook on TV, but until the weather breaks I’m restricting appearances to indoor venues.
