Today we’re having a hot dog roast for lunch and the Rubatinos are here too. Mom is holding a pot and grandma is carrying the big wicker hamper. Spicy cowboy beans are in the pot. From the hamper comes potato chips, mustard, relish, pickles, chopped up onions, paper plates, reusable plastic spoons, marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers.
The hotdog skewers hang from a nail in the cabana. The skewers are sturdy pieces of metal twisted around themselves so that they form a fork at one end and a loop at the other. I’m inordinately proud of our hotdog skewers. Other people have to use coat hangers. Even my mom had to use coat hangers.
I stick the skewer into the fire so that it glows. I like to do this for two reasons. One is I like to think that I’m disinfecting the skewer. The second is that the hot dog sizzles when put on the hot metal. I prefer my hot dog burned on the outside, so it goes into the center of the fire until it is black and then into a hot dog bun with mustard and relish, no ketchup.
The fire dies down and then we make smores. My brother holds his marshmallow over the fire, patiently turning it so that it becomes a caramel color. The Rubatinos have their own varying ways of roasting the marshmallows, falling somewhere in between the extremes of my brother’s method and mine. My way is the best. I stick my marshmallow close enough to the embers so that it ignites, which as far as I’m concerned is the whole point of marshmallows and fire.
My grandmother has taught us that there is always one correct way to do things.