Brahhts NOT Brats

What you need to get:

Brats (Brahhts)

One onion (Incredibly easy to steal)

Beer (not so easy to steal, especially a lot of it)

I went to the county fair the other day. This, as you may have expected, went horribly. There were little anklebiters running all around me (brats). It was about 90 degrees and hicks were splashing sweat all over me. And all the bands sucked... with the exception of the punk band in the kiddy area that kept dropping f-bombs. That part I really enjoyed.

Anyways, since I was a little hungry and had some extra cash to spend on their over-priced swill, I went over to the local Kiwanis' tent and ordered myself a brat (Brahht). It was, in a word, horrible. So I threw it back over the counter in the general direction of the guy with the funny hat and demanded my money back.

So after I was escorted off the grounds and asked not to return, I decided to invite my sous-angry chef, Tulip, over so we could make some "real" brats (brahhts) of our own. Yes, there were still some brats (brats) running around, my neighbors' have a thing for blasting Bryan Adams music while they let the kids run around outside, but all in all it was a good idea for something to make for this weekend.

I let my sous-angry chef Tulip make the fire. I just get too carried away when I'm around inflammable stuff and find myself throwing in stuff like the neighbor's shrubbery, junk mail and old cassette tapes (ones that aren't mine). The key for brats (brahhts) is to pile the coals up in the middle of the the grill (And I'm talking a little Weber grill here people, PLEASE MOVE ON if you're using a cadillac-sized gas grill) so the heat is centered in the middle of the circle.

Meanwhile, I'm in the kitchen, slicing up a whole onion (and no, I'm not crying, bitch) and bringing my brats (brahhts), covered with water, to a boil in a small saucepan.

When the water's good and rollin', throw in the onions and, here's the secret, a can of beer (maybe two if you can spare them).

My sous-angry chef, Tulip, prefers to use imported beer (Guiness, Hacker-Pschorr, etc.) But I think that's just stupid. First of all, you're only trying to get the "essence" of the beer, not, like, fine bouquets of malts and barleys. Secondly, that shit's too expensive for just it's "essence". Remember, you just mixed it with an onion and meat, "My goodness, my fucking Guiness" is not the experience you're looking for here. I use Milwaukee' s Best or Pabst.

While we're at it, let's talk about brats (brahhts). There are only two acceptable kind: Johnsonville and Klements. If you disagree, sign off of this site right the fuck now and never come back. Enjoy your damn bologna sandwiches.

I'm letting the brats (brahhts) simmer for ten minutes or so in the saucepan while Tulip is yelling at me about "not being nice" and I'm trying to ignore the brats (brats) running around the hot grill outside. This is a good time to start drinking the rest of your beer.

When I finally put the brats (brahhts) on the grill, there's one important thing to remember: Put them in a ring around the outer edge, THE OUTER EDGE. Do not fuck this up. You want them to have indirect heat. Close up the holes on your Weber and flip them every five minutes or so until they have a nice, charred crust on them.

When they're ready, serve the brats (brahhts) in a sturdy bun (thick Kaiser or sourdough, NOT A HOT DOG BUN) with a little ketchup, mustard and maybe some of the onions you boiled them in. If you dare to eat them with a knife and fork, be warned that your masculinity is in grave danger.

Tulip has been teaching the brats (brats) a little game called "The Rock Game" so they'll shut up and not disturb The Angry Chef while he enjoys a "real" brat (brahht). She can actually be kind of handy to have around, especially when I'm having brats (brahhts) and beer.