Fire

Today my mom asked me to grill the fishes for our break fast, so I obediently went to get the charcoal. The fire burning and I didn't understand why she put me on the job. I mean, I was in a house fire, right? She should at least assess my psychiatric state before putting me anywhere near that amount of fire and smoke. I might not be able to sleep at all tonight.

Anyway, I listened to my mom and worked the grill. I shouldn't stay near the smoke too much, it's more that it's not good for anyone's lung rather than the issue of trauma. Plus I was more worried the smoke might not be kind to my white shirt today.

I guess I'm good. So what explains my difficulty to sleep at night?

Working the grill made me wonder about the abomination that is charcoal. We burn real wood until they become black and then consumers burn them white to get decent heat for cooking. Forests are friends, we shouldn't be burning trees for food sake. We had oven-baked fish a few days back so maybe there's difference in their taste that made it worthwhile to be burning wood?

But I didn't detect any significant differences. My palate is not as refined as Hannibal's and I'm known to be partial to simple food like omelette, chicken porridge and simple fried rice with Ayamas spicy chicken drummet.