After spending several hours on Sunday grilling at my friend Carly’s apartment building in Georgetown, I decided that it’s time to move to an apartment where I can have my very own grill. Grilling is wonderful. I have little to no experience with it, but I can see why men like it so much. It’s mostly intuitive. Get the charcoal going, let the flames die down, and cook just about anything. We grilled pork chops, steaks, corn on the cob in its husks, olive oil–coated potatoes, portobello mushrooms, red onions, and green peppers. After two hours of leisurely cooking and beer-drinking (minus the frantic twenty-minute trip to get some real charcoal after being let down by Whole Foods’ organic crap), we had a feast! Dishes and dishes of crispy, salty, charred food. The flavor of that simple grilled pork chop was so much more exciting and satisfying than that of a simple sautéed one. Grilled mushrooms are a thing to behold. Mostly, grilling is fun.

Based almost exclusively on this grilling experience, Nathan and I are applying for a garden-level apartment in a Harlem brownstone just off 5th Avenue with a sweet little garden in the rear and a fabulous kitchen with a dishwasher. Wish us luck!