Please help me not buy a grill

AUSTIN, Texas — Outdoor grills, specifically the evil thereof, are today’s topic.

Our subtopic is spouses who always lose tie votes on household decisions. You’d think I’d occasionally win one of those tie votes. You’d think wrong. Maybe you, too, are a frequent loser of tie votes at home. Or maybe it’s just me.

Part of the problem is that facts and logic often aren’t on my side. But one shouldn’t let that get in the way in household discussions/debates. Anybody can prevail when facts and logic are on their side. But it takes a real man (a real obstinate man) to attempt to win when he’s got nothing.

Here’s the upcoming tie vote I expect to lose. Currently in the decision-making phase at my house is whether we need an outdoor grill. The other voter, the one who always wins the tie votes, says we do. That voter sees great fun, less heat in the kitchen and the outside chance that I might actually help in meal preparation.

The other voter (me) does not want an outdoor grill. I know all about grillmasters and the cute aprons that meat-worshipping, meal-whipping-up men can don while grillmastering. (“If God wanted us to

eat kale he would have made it more fun to shoot.”)

But I don’t want an outdoor grill. This is because I’ve had outdoor grills in the past. I know the truth about them. So did Noah Webster. He put this definition in his popular dictionary:

“Outdoor grill: 1. A cooking device that looks great in the store but quickly becomes a rodent-attracting, greasy, dirty hulk of a rusting metal eyesore yearning for bulky day [residential bulk collection]. 2. A prime cause of global warming.”

My family’s hands-on research included a trip to Fancy Boy Grill Store and Radiator Repair (fake name to reduce chances of litigation). A nice man there told us all about grills. I think he could tell I was not a grillmaster in search of a new tool/toy. I said little, opting to communicate in a grumpy, nonverbal, off-putting way.

Infrared, we were told, is the way to go. We also were told this type of grill produces good heat (some grills apparently produce bad heat) and, addressing my biggest concern, is easy to clean.

Infrared Miracle Grill (fake name to reduce chances of litigation) purportedly is easy to clean because it comes with a special scraping tool that Fancy Boy Grill Store man repeatedly demonstrated for us, producing a metal-on-metal sound that had me one scrape from confessing to being an ISIS sympathizer.

Throughout the demonstration, I listened intently for a word to glom on to as the salesman sang the praises of this $4.7-million grill. (I rounded up a bit. But not much.) I found the glom-worthy word at the end of this sentence.

“Grilling,” he said, “is messy.”

I then, retreating from my nonverbal strategy, repeated that last word 4.7 million times (actual count, not an estimate) as we continued.

I then moved in with what I knew to be my best shred of evidence: The inevitability of an outdoor-grill-induced conflagration that won’t be covered by insurance because of the policy’s stupidity rider that kicks in if somebody who shouldn’t have an outdoor grill has an outdoor grill. Every jury in the land would rule that I shouldn’t have an outdoor grill.

Due to existing constraints, any grill we purchase would have to be used on a covered back patio. Fancy Boy Grill Store man said we’d be OK (translated in my head as “have a chance of surviving”) as long as the roof over the patio is at least 8 feet high. Later, he told us if we were permanently installing a grill on our covered patio we’d be required by city code to have permits, a vent hood and proof of ownership of an American LaFrance Aero Chief firetruck.

In an unfair move, Fancy Boy Grill Store man had a guy demonstrating the $4.7 million infrared grill. We sampled free sliders and chicken. Both were awful. At least that’s what I’m saying (though I would have enjoyed another slider).

We returned to the store just before 6 p.m., closing time, for a second look. I was disappointed there was no free dinner.

Back home that evening, the two voters did our research. The other voter, the one who will prevail, opted for an email survey of grill-owning friends.

The email survey results were unanimously on my side, perhaps only because I ignored anything not on my side.

For research to support my argument, I typed, “Are outdoor grills always dirty?” into a browser. The first few results were wrong. I finally found one that was right. And it was British. Everything sounds more authoritative when said or read in English English.

Actual, factual background: Also on our to-do list that day was buying two replacement toilet seats. So imagine my delight (and obnoxiousness) when I found this online headline:

“The average British barbecue contains TWICE as many germs as a toilet seat.”

Thank you, Daily Mail. Thank you, Great Britain. And thank you, “hygiene expert Dr. Lisa Ackerly,” who did the study. Why anyone would do such a study is perplexing and troubling. But Ackerly is an expert of the best kind, the kind offering stats that support my point of view.

And there’s this from the U.S. Fire Administration: “Grill fires cause an estimated $37 million in property loss each year” and “Patios, terraces, screened-in porches and courtyards are leading home locations for grill fires” and “Ken Herman should not have a grill.” OK, I made up one of those.

Also thanks to the U.S. Fire Administration, another powerful force is on my side in this case: Death.

“These fires resulted in an estimated average of 10 deaths, 100 injuries” every year, the feds report.

So I’ve got that going for me in the upcoming two-voter election in which this decision will be made. Nevertheless, I expect to lose another tie vote and become the owner/operator of an outdoor grill.

Oh, did I mention that history at my house, despite the impressive indoor cooking prowess of one of the voters, shows we’re terrible at outdoor grilling? The last grill we had produced varying results. To fend off potential litigation, I’ll withhold the name of the grill.

But I can tell you the steaks occasionally had the texture of boxing gloves after a 12-round slugfest.

Ken Herman is a columnist for the Austin (Texas) American-Statesman.