But, as several thousand years have passed since men had to kill our protein, make a fire, cook it and eat it, why is barbecuing seen as something women don't or can't – or, more accurately, shouldn't – do?
It's barbecue food this time, plenty comforting to some.
It's barbecue season, at least as much of one as we'll ever get.
But, it being barbecue season, I'm sticking to the version I eat most often – cigars of lightly spiced meat, chargrilled and served up with warm flatbreads, crunchy salad and a tangy yoghurt sauce.
It's barbecue season again, and with shrinks across the nation lemming their way to vacation, the traditional celebrations of American familial ambivalence over a piece of roasted meat are once again set to spin out of control.
By the end of the week, it's barbecue-ville.
Labor Day that year, it was barbecue time.
But for you it's barbecue, friends, and libations all the way!
I'll call it what it is: uprooted barbecue, barbecue loosened from its moorings in tradition, barbecue that ranges to shores where dry-rubbed pork ribs and peel-and-eat shrimp cocktail and jalapeño sauces frolic together.
"I guess we will be barbecuing".
