The Table | 5 July 2008

What passes for summer is finally upon us in the British Isles. Between bouts of rain, we can finally inhale the sun-tan oil, note that last year’s swimsuit seems to have shrunk over the winter and fire up the barbecue. Cooking outdoors connects us to our hunter-gatherer ancestors, and, while the Oxford Culinary Conference undoubtedly has views on who once tended the cave’s fire, the barbecue today is a male preserve. The mittens and apron, the lengthy spatula and prongs, the double gin-and-tonic: these are the couture, jewellery and perfume which compensate the cooking male for the fact that he is no longer fit to be seen near-naked in the sea or at poolside. Unfortunately, the modern Neanderthal tends to make a mess of the food itself.

Outdoor male meat can invariably be identified by its blackened exterior and its dryness. To compensate, gendered meat is then encased in a bun, slathered with gooey pickle preserves or sugary tomato ketchup.