I have no grace in grilling. The beets fell into the fire, the oil on them flaring up, smoke everywhere. The eggplant, larger, fared better. The onions were a catastrophe. But those onions that survived were beautiful, their layers fanning out as they burnt into black, and wonderful-tasting. I want to say that this is the fire that cooked them, but maybe fires lack thingness; this is an instant of the fire that cooked them, the fire is gone and the food eaten. The grill closed up until later.
I have no grace in grilling. The beets fell into the fire, the oil on them flaring up, smoke everywhere. The eggplant, larger, fared better. The onions were a catastrophe. But those onions that survived were beautiful, their layers fanning out as they burnt into black, and wonderful-tasting. I want to say that this is the fire that cooked them, but maybe fires lack thingness; this is an instant of the fire that cooked them, the fire is gone and the food eaten. The grill closed up until later.
