Have you ever opened the freezer with the intention of finding something to cook for dinner, only to be disappointed, or generally uninspired? How many ways can we cook chicken? A lot, yes, of course, but I sometimes want more! The other white meat—pork—nope, we’ve beaten that horse, or pig, to death too.

One too many such dilemmas sent me to the grocery store sale ads for an answer. And there I found it. Standing out from under the Piggly Wiggly logo like a pinch of fate had pulled me to it. T-bone steaks on sale for $4.88 a pound….

My absolute favorite food of all time is steak. Recession and general shortfalls on climbing the pay-scale ladder aside, this was an emergency. I could afford a good steak…once a year, or so.

The last day of the sale came and I headed for the meat counter with tantalizing anticipation. Drum-roll, please…no T-bones. I asked the butcher and he said I’d have to get a rain check from the cashier.

I did. But I refused to give up so easily. I returned after a couple of days and proudly presented my coupon to the butcher. He glanced around and I confirmed, “No I don’t see any T-bones.”

“Well, I could cut you some,” he replied.

I tried to contain my overwhelming joy.

“That would be great.”

“How thick do you want them?”

Now this caught me off guard. Growing up in a Scotch-Irish, meat-and-potatoes sort of household, I became quite familiar with what types and thicknesses I preferred when it came to my steaks, but I’ve been out of my parents’ house for quite a while and haven’t practiced with the big boys, or non-Ramen-Noodle eaters, in years.

After holding up my thumb and pointer finger to gauge an estimate, I realized how silly I looked and said the first thing that popped into my head.

“Two inches.”

The young butcher cocked his head and looked at me.

“Two inches thick?”

I had to go with it, full on princess, now.

“Yes, in two packs of three. I believe that’s the maximum the ad allows.”

He smiled and pushed through the swinging door to fill my order.

I stood leaning against the cold display for a moment, added the approximate total in my head and thought yes, I can swing that. I became more and more delighted with myself as I waited, longing to set eyes on the plethora of marbled red meat.

When he returned, he handed over my packages. An older gentleman seemed to whimper as his eyes followed the motion.

“Thank you,” I smiled wide and sent sun beams from my eyes.

The gentleman nonchalantly followed me to the check-out and took a place behind me in line.

As we reached into our buggies to fill the conveyer belt, he let out a chuckle and said, “I’m coming to your house for dinner.”

Once at home, I pulled two steaks out and put the rest in the freezer. I placed them in a gallon Ziploc with a half bottle of Moore’s marinade, a can of coke, and a few sprinkles of garlic salt and black pepper.

I then eagerly awaited Randall’s arrival—mouth watering behind closed lips.

When he walked in the door, I ran to show him the prize…my beautiful cuts of meat. He nodded his head and grinned.

“How should we cook them? I could put them under the broiler,” he said.

I poked my lips out into a pouty face.

“I thought maybe we could grill them.”

First of all, let me just say I was surprised by the question, because all steaks should be grilled to medium, then melt gloriously on the tongue alongside salad and baked potato accompaniment.

But, realistically, I’ll divulge why he answered me with a confused stare.

Our first Christmas together resulted in more than just sushi mats. Among other things, I’d bought him a portable grill for his camper—complete with the charcoal.

He held up the pink, red and iridescent silver paper, admired the shining, silver bow and said, this looks like a heart.

I thought it looked like a round grill, but then I noticed a slightly protruding section, and smiled as if I’d done it on purpose.

The grill seemed perfect for the camper. It’s about the size of the large boiling pot in your kitchen. Well, that width, but about half as deep with slits for the legs that also function as the adjustable grill supports.

The metal piece with vertical bars (the actual grill) can be moved closer or further from the charcoal on these two stems, we’ll call them.

The stems are about 1 ½ to 2 feet tall and about as thick as a butter knife.

We hadn’t taken it out of the package yet, because we hadn’t been camping since Labor Day and the grill came in December. Of course, I just explained what a big deal a T-bone is, so no, we don’t have a $200, at-home grill for our 5’x5’ back deck.

He smiled and said, “Alright.”

He put the grill together, sat it on a plastic chair on the deck and began heating the charcoal.

I pulled the steaks out of the fridge and admired the marinade, then headed to the door to check on him.

“Is the grill going to melt that chair?”

“No, no—it’ll be fine.”

Since the grill was so small, Randall decided to wrap the meat in aluminum foil so they’d both fit without falling off.

As I moseyed back and forth, he reported that he wasn’t sure the steaks would cook since they were big, monster T-bones and the little grill was doing all it could. He added more charcoal and we prayed.

He decided to adjust the stems so that the meat would rest as close as possible to the charcoal. As he did this, one of the stems scooted just enough, so that it fell through a slit in the seat of the plastic chair.

The grill fell to a diagonal stance and Randall reached to hold one of the stems as I ran inside for pot holders, dish towels and stifled giggles.

He used the pot holders to safely reposition and we both breathed a sigh of relief as our beautiful steaks rested safely on the chair-top, baby grill.

Wouldn’t you know it?! The near-fall stirred up the coals and the steaks began to cook.

A glass of red wine, delectable beef and another first with my baby…cheers!

Steak marinade

2 steaks (any cut will do—2” T-bones, preferred)

½ bottle of Moore’s original marinade

12 oz. Coke-a-cola

About 1 tbs. garlic salt

About 1 tbs. black pepper

Put steaks and ingredients in a gallon Ziploc and store in fridge for 2-24 hours.

Grill, and enjoy!