IU football may be back, but its rich 10:00 a.m. tailgating culture will be sorely missed in 2020.
Now, we must fill our homes with all the comfort and charm that only an uneven grass parking lot can offer. College students should have no problem selecting their beverage menu, but how are you supposed to host a complete tailgate if you can’t rely on other people’s snacks?
When it comes to the kitchen, I am in the business of not colossally screwing up. The higher my ratio of flavor to personal embarrassment, the better.
From one culinary buffoon to another, here are some tips guaranteed to wow 15 or fewer of your closest friends every Saturday this season.
Pick one meat and stick to it
How often have you seen a grill irresponsibly crowded with all manner of assorted meats? I’m not sure what 22-year-old Bobby Flay protégé can expertly cook chicken, burgers and hot dogs to perfection simultaneously, but he most certainly does not go to IU.
Invariably, a novice will burden his wobbly portable grill with an entire butcher’s inventory and cross his fingers. Once his hamburgers have reached peak deliciousness, his chicken breasts are likely still nothing more than slimy little poison loaves.
If you’re going to consume part of an animal that took three years and 1,000 gallons of water to raise, consider narrowing your focus. I’d rather enjoy a single juicy burger than sample a spectrum of doneness from fresh-off-the-cow to pure carbon.
Don’t assume you’re better than the chip
If you think the average tailgater is going to spend precious stomach space on your bubbling cauldron of buffalo chicken dip, you’ve already lost. Chip companies have conducted decades of scientific research striving to pack maximum flavor into millimeter-thin flakes that don't cost 200 calories per bite.
That’s why scoopable salads are your new best friend. Take foods that vaguely resemble vegetables, dice them up and throw on citrus and herbs. Corn, black beans, black-eyed peas, red onion, tomato, cilantro and lemon juice will titillate your taste buds and provide the illusion of health.
I’m not saying you have to banish your buffalo chicken affair to the seventh layer of dip hell, but it might be time to cut off life support and unplug the crockpot.
Actually try with your vegetables
Store-bought relish trays require minimum effort yet still aren’t worth the exertion. They are the hors d'oeuvres equivalent of wearing cargo shorts and an NBA jersey to a tailgate because you couldn’t be bothered to match the aesthetic.
This fall, show your veggies the respect they deserve and roast them. Chop your crudités of choice, lightly coat them in olive oil, salt and pepper and slide them in a hot oven.
Broccoli and cauliflower florets will develop an irresistible char, while onions and carrots will become savory candy. Go autumnal with butternut squash or experience the giving tree of root vegetables, the humble sweet potato.
Whenever I dare to cook, a sweet potato is an unconditionally loyal romantic partner that I don’t deserve. It does nothing but offer warmth and tenderness no matter how much it gets burned by an idiot college guy.
Never underestimate a hearty bowl of chili
A tailgater who goes a full season without chili is like a baby that’s never held. A steaming bowlful on a brisk college football Saturday is the warm, dry shirt you put on after getting caught in a rainstorm.
Any chili recipe worth its cumin brings out the absolute best in its ingredients. Aromatic onions and peppers are sautéed to Yankee Candle levels of olfactory bliss while beans transform into al dente pockets of protein and starch.
You can go classic with ground beef and tomato sauce or brighten things up with chicken stock and shredded turkey. Meanwhile, vegetable broth and lentils will rival any carnivore’s chili.
Words of affirmation. Physical touch. Spicy meat stew.
Everyone has a love language, and mine goes great with a dollop of sour cream.
