George Foreman grill
When George
Foreman finally passes on, his legacy will not be as a boxer, humanitarian, servant of God, rancher, uncreative giver of names to his children, star of a genial ABC comedy or the Man Who Would Not Pay
A Lot For This Muffler. It will be as the face of a modern-day
religious icon — the Lean, Mean, Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine.
This white, waffle-iron-looking contraption is more than just an
appliance. It is a device whose introduction into a conversation can
turn any otherwise sane and educated human being into a babbling
prophet of the Gospel of Grill, as this person tells the story of
conversion from mere Weberite to Georgian, such as was described in
the Old Testament: "And lo, Ezekiel dideth desire the burger of
poultry, one that was bereft of fat, yet still tasteth juicy, and
dideth not have the foul odor of briquettes. And lo, God senteth down
from his Kingdom a Holy Grill, compact in size, simple in operation
and easy to cleaneth, though on that note the Lord instructeth
Ezekiel, 'My follower, it would pleaseth me for you to use the
enclosed scraper rather than soap for best results.' And lo, Ezekiel
cooketh the meat of the slain bird, which tooketh only 10 minutes,
including five minutes of warm-up, and watcheth as fat drippeth onto
the plate provided for such purpose of catching unpure liquids. And
lo, Ezekiel gave thanks to his Father, saying, 'God, this tasteth
great!'"
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Then after the sermon, the babbler in question will, in hushed
tones, lead you to whatever space is occupied by the George Foreman
grill, flapping it open and closed like a fireplace fan as he speaks
of the wonders of smushing zucchini and chicken at the same time in
only a few minutes and with only a small amount of counter space
needed to do the work. People whip out their George Foreman grills
faster than they do pictures of their children, with less provocation.
The lightweight grill from the former heavyweight champ has been out
for a few years, turning a obscure outfit called Salton in Mt. Prospect, Ill., into a moneymaking
obscure outfit called Salton (its name is practically fine print on
the packaging.) George sold it the old-fashioned way — television
infomercials. I believe he set the grill on fire in one of them, then
rubbed it with auto wax. It's hard to believe this is the same George
Foreman that was once considered the scariest man in boxing, until
Muhammad Ali made ungrilled mincemeat out of him in Kinshasa in
1974.
However, it's only recently that the grill has reached enough
critical mass to take on magical proportions, at least among people I
know. Oh sure, some desperate TV smart-asses during sweeps week will
run shows on how the meat doesn't taste as good as a diner burger, or how the
grill doesn't remove any more fat than what drips out on
your standard backyard implement. But it's been 2,000 years since
anyone healed a leper with his bare hands, and people still believe in
faith healing, right?
Oh, you thought I might be mocking this worship of a flimsy consumer
appliance, available in three sizes — small, medium and large
— for $30 and up either through this special TV offer or
participating retailers? I am a full-fledged cult member. I don't use
my grill, I don't use my oven, and I barely use my microwave. But ever
since I bought my George Foreman Grill a few months ago, I've been
grilling more than Burger King.
How can you not like that the grill comes with a booklet with
instructions on how long to cook about 30 meats and veggies, not
having to worry about constantly flipping your meal? It's cooking any
moron, such as myself, can do. And the food tastes better than that on
your average gas grill, plus you don't get those carcinogens that come
up when the fat hits the charcoal.
So pass me the Kool-Aid, fit me for
black
Nikes and toss me that salmon, because we're going to grill!
Silence, please. Come to my kitchen. I have story for you. "And lo,
Bob dideth desire the burger of poultry."
— Bob Cook (bobc@flakmag.com)
