One of the joys of the summer season in our fair brown land is BBQ. No more cooking in a hot kitchen all stuffy and steamy, the time has arrived for cooking with the sun on your back, the spicy scented smoke and the compulsory can of beer in hand. I've even taken to doing the saturday morning fry outside. For this replace beer with gatorade if you're feeling a bit tawdry and bask in the double smokyness of barbequed bacon, toast with grill marks on it and crispy bottomed fried eggs.
As part of this embracing of BBQ culture we've found ourselves a butcher. No more crappy cling wrapped carrion from coles and safeway, the local man does great meat and his sausages taste like sausages, not condoms full of plasticine. It also feels good to buy off the little bloke, rather than some faceless conglomerate.