Testing a New Barbecue Sauce This Week

I stopped at the store on Wednesday after work to grab what I needed for a new barbecue sauce recipe. The list was short, mostly pantry items I already had plus a couple of extras. I ended up with a jar of apple cider vinegar, some brown sugar, and a small container of dried sea beans that the sign said worked well for adding texture. The store felt extra crowded that afternoon, with the air-conditioning humming loud enough to drown out the checkout beeps, and I lingered a minute longer in the spice aisle just to avoid the line forming behind the self-checkout machines. Back home the kitchen still held that faint lemon-cleaner smell from the weekend, so I opened a window while I measured everything out into a bowl. The vinegar gave off a sharp tang that mixed with the molasses sweetness of the brown sugar, and the sea beans looked like tiny twigs when I stirred them in.

Ren came home while I was measuring things out and said the sauce smelled promising. We put it on chicken thighs and let them sit for a while before putting them on the grill. The chicken turned out fine, though the sauce stuck a little more than I expected on one side, leaving a darker patch that crackled when I flipped the pieces. Outside the air was still warm but not heavy, and the grill made that soft whooshing sound every time I lifted the lid. We ate outside because the weather stayed mild into the evening, the plates balanced on our laps while a neighbor’s sprinkler ticked on across the fence. Ren mentioned the new episode of the show we’d been meaning to start, but neither of us got up to find the remote.

Thursday I caught up on some client emails in the morning and then walked over to the library to return a couple of books. On the way back I stopped at the corner market for milk and noticed they had restocked the coffee beans I like. The barista there mentioned the new subway line should cut the trip downtown in half once it opens next month. I grabbed an extra bag and headed home, pausing at the crosswalk to watch a delivery truck try three times to parallel-park in the narrow spot in front of the dry cleaner. The beans smelled faintly roasted even through the paper bag, and I kept thinking about how nice it would be to have that first cup already brewed before the next round of emails.

Friday night we watched an episode of that podcast series about Hoover’s second term while we cleaned up the kitchen. Ren had it on in the background and I listened to most of it while wiping down the counters. It was interesting enough that I might look up the next one. The soap suds kept sliding toward the drain in slow spirals, and every so often I caught a line about some cabinet meeting that made me pause with the sponge in midair. Ren laughed at one of the voice actor impressions and almost dropped the dish towel.

Over the weekend we kept things light. I did a load of laundry and sorted through some old receipts that had piled up on the desk. Ren mowed the yard in the afternoon and came in talking about the dust storm alerts that had been posted for the weekend. We skipped the usual walk and stayed in with the windows closed instead, the curtains pulled halfway so the light stayed soft across the living-room rug. The dryer hummed from the other room, and every now and then a receipt would flutter off the desk when the ceiling fan clicked on.

Lissa texted Saturday morning to say she had tried the same sauce recipe and liked how it turned out on salmon. She asked if I had any plans for the rest of the weekend beyond the obvious holiday stuff. I told her we were keeping it simple, maybe just another round of the chicken if the grill was still clean. Her message came with a photo of the salmon skin already crisped at the edges, and I showed it to Ren while we folded towels on the couch.

Sunday we picked up a few more groceries and restocked the ice in the freezer. The store was busier than usual but the lines moved quickly. I found a bag of the dried sea beans again and grabbed one more jar in case the recipe became a regular thing. The checkout conveyor belt felt sticky under my palms, and the cashier mentioned they were already out of the good hamburger buns. We carried the bags to the car with the sun reflecting off the windshield in sharp white flashes.

By Monday the sauce was gone and the chicken container was empty, so I guess it worked out better than I thought it would.