The Chicken that Nearly Blew My Face Off

Last night, I decided it would be a good idea to fire up the grill to cook a whole chicken. It was a calm, pleasant, even coolish night, and I thought that sitting on the deck would be a great way to spend an early summer evening.

I am a good cook but I have never turned on the gas grill before, and I have never really cooked anything other than a few burgers on the grill. The grilling responsibilities have long since been abdicated to my husband.

Things started off okay. I opened my Paula Deen cookbook, found the recipe for "Beer in the Rear" chicken, and then rinsed, dried, and seasoned the big 'ole bird. In my brain I was thinking "how hard can it be?" My husband grills a lot...

Well, apparently, it is beyond my capabilities.

I turned the knobs, I hit the ignitor, nothing happened. Called the husband. Turned a few more handles, adjusted some settings, nothing happened. Called the husband. Pulled out my large candle lighter thingy, stuck it in the side of the grill and........

KABLAM

There were bits of hair falling out, a lovely singed smell about me, and a scary new sense of my own mortality. I was so close to really burning my face that I had to sit in stunned silence for several moments while the fire roared in the grill.

Things didn't get any better from there. I turned the flames down, put the chicken on the grill, lowered the lid, and went inside to clean up my hair and to check out the damage. Next thing I know, there was billowing smoke coming from the grill. The flames were so huge that I could barely get the lid open (finally dawned on me to get the oven mitts -- duh). I was hesitant to turn the grill completely off because I did NOT want to have to restart the fire and at that point I actually thought I would need to keep cooking the chicken. Ultimately, I turned off the grill because I was about to burn down the house and deck. Even after I turned it off, the flames did not subside for 10 or 15 minutes. Nothing like a little burning chicken fat to really get a fire going.

The chicken looked like a blackened marshmallow. Torched skin and a raw interior. Scrumptious.

I called husband. He picked up dinner.

I will try again to conquer the grill.