Sloppy Joes

I remember it as if it were yesterday. Mom was gone for the weekend. Dad was in charge of cooking. Like most men, Dad was a wizard on the barbecue, but when it came to kitchens, he wasn’t quite at the top of his game. Fortunately Mom had left a menu for Dad to follow. Saturday night was burger night. Dad glanced at the menu and smirked. How hard could barbecuing a few burgers be?

At this point, most families would probably pull the pre-formed frozen patties out of the freezer and toss them on the grill. Not my family. We took our burgers seriously. You might say we were true burger connoisseurs. Our burgers started as a lump of ground beef from the butcher’s counter at Vons. Mom would then divide the big lump into several smaller lumps and smash them flat with a pot. Then she would season them to perfection and dad would grill ‘em up.

Things didn’t quite go so perfectly on this “mom-less” weekend. Dad, following his usual routine, went outside and lit the charcoal. Then he went back inside to get the meat. “Uh-Oh,” Dad said as he realized the lump of ground beef was still in the freezer. “No big deal,” he added. “Let’s just toss it into the microwave.” A few minutes later, the meat was thawed...and cooked.

If you have ever tried to shape a lump of cooked ground beef into a patty, you know, that shy of adding a little Elmer’s glue, it’s not going to happen. Fortunately Dad couldn’t find the glue and duct tape wasn’t working the way he had envisioned. “No problem,” Dad thought. He looked out at the white hot coals. “We’re gonna use those, doggone it!” he said.

Fortunately, Mom had a heavy duty cast iron pot in the cupboard, like the kind witches use in fairy-tales. (No offense, Mom.) Dad dumped the meat into the pot.

“What are you making, Dad?” I asked

“Just barbecuing some Sloppy Joes,” He replied as he added some ketchup to the pot.

“You ever made Sloppy Joes before?” I asked.

“I barbecue all the time, son”

“Yeah but mom makes them on the stove, not the barbecue,” I noted nervously.

Then dad picked up the pot and carried the whole thing outside. He placed it right on the grill and said, “Just watch.”

“Did you plan this?” I asked. He didn’t answer and I began to wonder what we were in for. A few minutes later the beefy concoction began to boil.

“Grab the buns so we can toast them,” Dad said. I did as he requested and soon dinner was ready. To my surprise it was actually quite tasty...and memorable.

There are lots of other stories from my childhood that revolve around food. Like the time my parents thought they would teach us some culture by taking the five kids out for an afternoon of high tea. I ordered Pepsi. Or the time my mom made a green tomato pie as a joke and my friend ate his whole slice because his mom had reminded him to eat everything on his plate.

We all have a Sloppy Joe story in our lives - when a meal brings back a fond memory. For some your Sloppy Joes might be a steak. For others, it might be scrambled eggs. Maybe your Sloppy Joes was a tofu garden burger on a first (and last) date. For me, my Sloppy Joes were actual Sloppy Joes. Whether your Sloppy Joes were a good meal or a bad one, they are still a memory to be cherished. So next time you are cooking, why don’t you throw some Sloppy Joes on the barbie?