I want to tell a story about two people and their Foreman grills. The man’s grill stays outside on a wooden table. A hummingbird feeder shared by goldfinches and bats hangs from a chain right close to the grill. (Yes, those are feathers on the dish.) When the woman wants to grill, say a 3-cheese sandwich on rye, she takes her Foreman from a kitchen cabinet, sets it on a counter top, and plugs into an electric outlet.
The woman equates the man’s grill to a mangy dog left to live outdoors with minimal care. No grooming. No bathing – fend-for-yourself-until-you-die, Buster. When the woman is done, she removes food stains and grease from her grill. She likes things clean. When the man wants to grill, he pre-heats the Foreman and shuts the lid on a sausage for 10 minutes. The juices drain into the catch dish until the hot Italian sausage is smokin’ done. The man ignores the build up of carbon and crud. After all, the grill is an electrical device and high temperatures burn away bacteria and bugs. The man never grills on his Foreman when friends are invited for dinner. End of story.
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