Grilled to perfection

It may seem like a waste of time to fill the internet with the fam's encounters with the barbecue, but what the hey? If you think we're wasting time here you should just look here and here and here. Perhaps it's un-American to consider the last one a waste of time, but maybe it's just deeply American to think so. In any event, I would rather think about barbecuing.

Last night the fam ate barbecue cooked on our own little back porch. Hamburgers for Andrew, salmon for Lori, and about a pound of roasted marshmallows for young Landy. It's all he'll eat these days. It's merely a coincidence that we were barbecuing last night so he had a way to roast them on a chopstick that Lori gave him last month. He was happy as a coconut crab, though; you should have seen him there, roasting three marshmallows at a time and singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" over and over to himself.

The hamburger was very good, but very small by the time it was done cooking. In the states, they mark ground beef by the percentage of fat it contains, as many of you know. However, in Saipan, there's just one type of hamburger available, and apparently it's 50% fat. There was so much fat coming off those patties that Landy nearly lost a hand to the frequent bursts of flame that shot off the fat as it hit the coals. The burgers, when they were finished molting, turned out to be exquisite. The delicate play of the garlic that was infused in the meat during its preparation and the crunchy charred exterior of the succulent beef patty was enough to make my eyebrows knit. A small sweater was produced, I put it on, and spent the rest of the evening in the afterglow of a burger well-cooked.

Lori's Slammin' Salmon, a title which I have not yet seen on a menu, but which I'm sure rests snugly in TGI Friday's cache of copyrighted foodstuff names, was a melange of brown sugar, lemon juice and olive oil wrapped up tight in a thin jacket of aluminum foil. She declared it to be, "puckeringly sweet and sour, with an aftertaste that brought to mind a long hug from Scarlett Johannsen." Most intriguing.

Landy reports that his marshmallows were softer than usual. Most likely as a result of the heat from the coals.

As you may have guessed, we're all catching up on our New Yorker subscription here, and are very much enjoying the food issue of a few months back. In any event, we hope you're eatin' well wherever you are, and keeping it safe and sound and real.

Birdonnells Heart Elvis

Hey, everyone at home!

Hope it's not snowing too hard for ya'! Ha ha ha ha! The Birdonnell clan is having a grand old time on "the rock that only wished it'd been forgotten by time." This is a miraculous place in some ways. A testament to our ability to forget the realities of war in sixty years or less. Not that everyone is doing so. But really, when you think about it, the fact that we can swim to a number of submerged military tanks, dive off their gun barrels, then fly to Tinian, and ride a moped to the holes in the runways where the atomic bombs America dropped on Japan were stored, fly back to Saipan, and then stop at KFC for lunch and take in a really stupid movie at the theatre.... well, it just makes my big, fat American lips start to quiver. Even Landy agrees. This is a magical place of "what-may-be-someday" for places such as Iraq, Bosnia-Herzogovenia, Rwanda.... there's hope people. Just come to Saipan, and see for yourself!

Speaking of visiting Saipan, when you do so, don't miss the Thursday night Street Market in Garapan. Holy. Cow. Picture this: the three Birdonnells walking through row after row of exotic, delicious scents. People from around the world crowding around you, everyone walking around with enormous coconuts with straws sticking out of them or some sort of meat on a stick. People trying to pet your "pet monkey" only to realize it's a child. I mean to tell you that it's an experience that you don't want to miss.

You can get anything at this Street Market. Anything. What's that? You want some Saipan Pineapple? Well here you go. I suggested that they change their sign to read "Saipapple" but they just looked at me. They probably didn't speak much English. You can get squid on a stick, five mysterious choices for five American dollars, necklaces made from sea shells, coconut shells, various kinds of teeth, whatever you want. I have not yet located a shrunken head at this carnival of plenty, but I'm holding out hope. Lori purchased a new pair of sparkling slippers for only two dollars, and Landy used some of his allowance money to buy a henna tattoo. I couldn't believe what he asked for; I don't even want to talk about it. But it is his money, and he isn't allowed out of the house much anyways, so, what the hey.

There were people from all corners of the world and entertainment galore. The highlight of the evening had to be the King of Rock and Roll himself, Mr. Elvis Presley. Elvis entertained the clamoring throngs of the Street Market for upwards of twenty minutes last Thursday night, and the Birdonnells were there for every minute of it. Andrew, Lori and Landy were all cutting a rug in front of the stage, and no one could stop us. Although, for some reason, a few tried. Lori and I have never taken swing dance lessons, but that has never stopped us from trying to make it look otherwise. I spun her around so many times that she was shaking when we were finished. Landy's dance is a real crowd pleaser as well. He goes down about halfway into the splits and then hops up and down on his heels and shakes his wrists in the air. It's startling to watch at first, but then it becomes mesmerizing. He's quite a child.

It's been exciting times here in Saipan. That's all for now, but hope you're doing just as well as us!