Dear Bradley Smoker,
|Joe with his pride and joy.|
When a lady is married to a Chicago fireman, there are certain things that come along with the job. First and foremost is understanding that meat will forever play an integral part in the relationship. There are no soup and salad evenings. No sushi nights out. No having a bowl of Corn Flakes for dinner (at least when he's home).
The bonus aspect of this devotion to the beef/pork/chicken industries is the fact that most firemen can cook. And when I say cook, I mean these guys can chop, dice, and reduce like I’ve never thought possible.
It’s all rather humbling for the non-cook, Corn Flakes-loving variety of wife.
Anyway, my husband, Joe, is a good guy, a great father, and hard-working man. So when he called up several months ago to get clearance to buy a Bradley Smoker that was on sale, I gave him the okay.
Our marriage has never been better.
Joe meticulously plans out meals weeks in advance, marinates for days, and stands next to that smoker with such pride and love that you’d swear he was Neil Armstrong landing on the moon.
Thank you for bringing such joy to our family, our neighbors, and my husband. When he smokes dinner for our tightknit Chicago community, people smile easier, laugh harder, and leave fuller.
The alley cats, on the other hand, get chased away with brooms.
Kudos on a great product and source of happiness for our entire neighborhood!
So did this bastion of barbeque respond?
With overwhelming enthusiasm they did!
|Joe was thrilled over the flavored bisquettes. I loved the apron. I'm a messy eater.|
That brings my current point total to 27. To check out the competition, visit Andrea HERE!
Time for chicken!