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A light snow drifted down upon our little corner of NoVA as I stood over the barbi grilling the steaks and hotties this evening. 

I can only assume that the association of grilling with summer must be northern in origin, its roots found in some place where it is physically impossible (or at least not worth it) to cook outside during the winter months.  There are few things more unpleasant than standing over an open flame in the kind of hot, humid weather that plagues us in July and August.  I much prefer cooking outside in weather like tonight’s.

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