About eight months ago I moved from a small house in a nice neighborhood in South Carolina to Downtown Silver Spring... things changed, mostly for the better, except now I'm on the eleventh floor. That means no grill. I don't mean that thing marketed by George Foreman, which is more of a panini machine, or even those gleaming monolithic stainless-steel
things that shoot flaming noxious gas at your food; I'm talkin' about a hardwood-charcoal-fired Weber grill. Here's what I mean:
Away from direct heat, we have bacon-wrapped shrimp with some lemon zest and fresh ground pepper. Four or five minutes of cooking meant the bacon was at that supple not-quite-crispy stage and the shrimp was perfect. Note the extra skewer aganist which each batch rested to keep the heavier end from facing the heat all the time.
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