Written June 6, 2025
Hello Dear Readers,
Alas, dear readers, the sacred ritual of BBQ Friday has been grill-napped. The culprit? Not raining. Not a meat shortage. Nope—my wife had an important meeting, and duty called louder than the sizzle of burgers on the grill.
Now, let me be clear: she’s not a fan of dining out more than once a week. Restaurant food, she claims, is a minefield of sodium and sneaky cholesterol. She’s not wrong, but still… BBQ Friday, gone? Tragic.
Was I disappointed? Of course. But I get it. Her work matters, and so does what we eat. She’s the nutritional commander of this ship—and, in fairness, probably the reason I haven’t rebelled against the strict renal-friendly regime I’m on. Honestly, she eats like me… just with more eggs for extra protein. She makes clean eating look like a culinary art form.
To fill the BBQ void, I whipped up some homemade French fries. And no, we don’t deep-fry them into crispy rebellion. My wife usually does the oven-bake toss-with-oil thing. I’m team Air Fryer—faster, crispier, and fewer complaints from my arteries.
Now for the real star: the dip. I made a spicy mayo using one of her handcrafted seasonings. Yes, you read that right—she makes her own ranch, buffalo, shawarma, Mexican, and Italian blends. Because store-bought seasonings? Too salty. And salt, for me, is the arch-nemesis.
Herbs, however? My besties. Rosemary, thyme, dill, basil—they’re basically flavor with a halo. Sometimes I swap sour cream for homemade yogurt, which she also makes because she’s a kitchen sorceress. Control the thickness, control the taste. Plus, she swears it’s easy. (I believe her, but I’m not giving up my air fryer just yet.)
Tonight’s sauce of choice was the mayo mix I usually serve with oven-roasted carrots or chicken. It’s spicy, creamy, and most importantly: wife-approved.
She finally returned from her meeting, and we dined like royalty—on fries, no less. It was already 5:30 PM, but we shared that meal like it was BBQ Friday. (Confession: I’d already eaten leftover homemade pizza earlier. But hey, second dinner is a thing… right?)
We may be on a tight dietary leash, but here’s the twist: I don’t even feel deprived. When you enrich our foods with our homemade favorites, “strict diet” feels more like a lifestyle than a sentence.
And next week? BBQ Friday will return. Unless life throws another curveball… or she schedules another meeting.