It’s always an amazing ritual while throwing a barbecue at my home. While the women gather round the table and cackle like the hens they are, the men circle around the charring carcass that sits atop the grill, staring at its burning flesh while sucking down suds, puffing their cigars of choice, and bullshitting about anything that comes to mind. As I flip the deceased animal, we ooh and ahhhh as the hissing and searing meat gives off an intoxicating aroma that melds with the scent of our stogies. We grunt like primordial beasts, readying ourselves for the gorging of the flesh. At that very moment we are one with the grill - one with the kill.

At this point the homemade salads hit the table – macaroni, potato and coleslaw, beans, maybe some mac & cheese, and a nice tossed green salad. When the weather is warm, the sky is blue, and the food is fresh, life is perfect, well almost perfect – until I light up stogie number two, something a bit more medium bodied that is sure to piss off the ladies and their children that I am poisoning with my second hand carcinogens. Then my better half gives me crap, but she knows I’m every bit as passionate about my cigars as the food that’s being served. Okay, okay, tell little Suzie to put her friggin inhaler away, I’ll chill on the stogs ‘til later. See, I’m sensitive when I need to be.

Now when dinner is over, dessert is being served, and the hot coffee is ready, that means a nice hearty maduro or full flavored smoke is ready to be consumed by yours truly. The men can gather round once again, lighting up our precious cigars while telling stories of the hunt, the double that won today’s game in the ninth, and the proverbial big one on the lake that got away. As the alluring scent of blue smoke swirls above our heads, we revel in the handcrafted leafy goodness that artisans from islands far away have aged and rolled for our male bonding, post dinner, sausage fest. We scratch, we grunt, we speak an expletive or two, all because we are men and that’s what out half of the species does well.

If it’s one of those parties that go into the wee hours, where a fire is lit and so are the guests, a fourth cigar will make itself present, oftentimes a Cubano or something special to have with a glass of port or a nice pour of Scotch. Sitting back and gazing at the stars while your swollen stomach is filled from the feast, and your cigar is being savored - oh man, does life get any better than that? I think not my Brothers of the Leaf.

Grilling or barbecuing – whatever the hell you call it doesn’t matter much to me. It’s the food we eat, the company we keep, and the smokes we partake in that make the moment special. And I’m ready right about now, aren’t you?