This year’s BOMB party was a blast (no pun intended). You may recall from last year’s post that BOMB stands for Boys Only Meat Bash. The sagacious party-organizer, Mark, designed this mono-gender meat-up meet-up this way because he felt that excluding the ladies was the only way to have a truly hassle-free party. Now now, let me explain on his behalf; he adores the company of the fairer sex (as do we all), but he knew his wife could not tolerate a party where plates are absent, napkins are scarce, cigar smoke abounds, manners are frowned upon, personal hygiene is optional, disorderly conduct is encouraged, and swearing is mandatory. Once you invite one wife; they’ll all want to come to see one another, and before you know it, we’ll have to shave before we go. As the unsightly gang of shabby, work-clothing clad, oafs arrived with the food, it became apparent that any effort that would have been wasted on a well-kempt appearance was instead directed at the food.
Naturally, I had my camera with me. Here is a short video I took of us guys milling about at the party while Mark learns how to use a cooking utensil:
Ok, for real, the party is held at our friends’ (Sue and Mark) place at the southern edge of Albany county; the drive out is quite scenic. My soon-to-be-famous friend Ryan and my already-infamous-friend Mitch came along with me.
We saw the return of the butterflied lamb with freshly-made mint salsa/chutney (I’d have to say it’s my favorite; it’s so simple and so good).
Local sausages (we could have used some German lager to wash ’em down) and skewered flank steaks rolled with cheese.
A giant marinated beef roast with assorted barbeque sauces for dipping.
A massive bluefish filet.
And a super succulent double-skillet roasted chicken that was phenomenal.
Also, the meat-only rule was relaxed a bit this year and we had some delicious roasted fingerling potatoes, beets, and the uber-talented Jessie went so far as to bring a pizza and roasted garlic bulbs (??). The potatoes were so good we all started eating them immediately as they were pulled off the grill and we all burned our mouths a little. That just slowed us down– it didn’t stop us. They were smooth and buttery which is interesting because there was no butter added– good stuff. The beets were great too. What can I say? I’m a root-crop guy.
Each item was pulled off the grill, or from the smoker, put on a tray and set on the table along with a carving knife. Then all of us guys just picked at the food (while clutching our beers). We ate while standing around gabbing. There was also a keg of ale and a pool tournament.
As for my pool tournament performance, I lost early and often– but whatever; it’s all politics [pffft].
The night wound down with unnecessary (but unstoppable) eating, listening to music, talking history, playing pool, sipping beer, and enjoying the pretty-much-perfect weather of the night.
The title of this blogpost and the song below are references to the 1999 David Fincher film Fight Club.
*Yes, I am aware of the irony at play here. I realize that I took my recipe for this men-only testosterone-fest from a foodblog with a very feminine voice. I guess you could say her blog is strong enough for a man but pH balanced for a woman. [wink] Make the Asian pesto and see how good it is for yourself.
**Jerk, in this case, refers to the marinade and less-so to the marinater. [wink]