Bobby Flay I'm Not

It has become a tradition that Saturday night is grilling night at the cabin. Last weekend, I grilled a flank steak (apologies in advance to our vegetarian readers). Starting around 7pm, we get the charcoal ready, open a bottle of wine (almost always a red, although it's getting to the time of year where I might enjoy a rose' some night when I do pork) or beer (usually LongHammer IPA since that's what they have at the Food Lion) and prepare to cook out on the brick terrace.

We enjoy a late supper, usually around 8:30 or so, sometimes inside, but also sometimes outside on a little cafe table we set up on the brick terrace.



This weekend I used a beer marinade that I've improvised over the last 10 years after briefly noting it in a cook book somewhere. This time, it was comprised of a tablespoon of olive oil, some crushed garlic, chopped onion, a bottle of hefeweizen, and a little sea salt and fresh ground black pepper. In this case the meat was in the marinade for four hours.



We also had some yellow summer squash and tomatoes, given to us by our Alexandria neighbors Herb and Odessa (mentioned in last Friday's crape myrtle entry), so I grilled up a little dish of squash, tomatoes and onions. Herb keeps a garden on their double lot over on Linden Street, and he produces enough that he should join a farmers' market somewhere.



Also last week at the Clarendon market in Arlington, I picked up a loaf of cinammon raisin bread, which is visible next to the marinading meat above. Mary made us a nice Sunday breakfast with that - French toast, or Freedom toast for those of you so inclined, with a side dish of peaches and bananas.







Fortified us for the little walk in the woods we'd take later.