We’ve talked about ways to avoid cooking your steaks outside while the weather is still unbearable.

You’ll remember that at my house we just grin and bear it in the cold. (See this post.)

But there are other ways to have your steak and stay warm, too.

And one of those ways comes to us courtesy of everyone’s favorite two-time World Heavyweight Boxing Champion.

Yeah, I’m talking ’bout Mr. George Foreman.

Okay, he may have like 8 kids named George Foreman, but he’s put his name on some pretty great products that save us the trouble of braving crazy northwinds and sleet if we really want to have some steak for dinner.

Yes, the George Foreman Grill saves the day.

My model, as you can see here, is the George Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine. A bit wordy, but trusty nonetheless.

You can grill anything you would normally grill on an outdoor grill on this little guy. We took ours to Destin, Florida, last summer and grilled ribeyes, hot dogs and steakburgers on various nights of our vacation.

We were kind of scared of the public grills at the resort and we didn’t want to have to buy a whole bag of charcoal for such a short stay. So we actually got two of those George Foreman babies up and rolling and they did the trick.

Here’s what it looks like opened up. Kind of like a waffle iron. But, oh so different. This puppy makes those perfect grill marks and those awesome sizzling sounds when the steak goes on. Sssssssssss!

Now, some people may argue that the GF Grill’s method of grilling (by draining the grease away from the meat) makes it not as juicy and tender.

Not so. Every bite is just as juicy as when I grill them on an outdoor grill. The GF Grill is just draining away the fat, not the flavor. And who needs all that extra fat anyway? 

So, keep an open mind and try this idea out if you just can’t drag yourself out into the snow to make that T-bone.

George will thank you for it.

Here’s a great video to get your Monday started off the right way.

I’m telling you, YouTube might be the greatest invention ever (well, besides steak, of course). Click on the link below for a fantastic ribeye recipe demonstration by the guys over at BarbecueWeb.com.

And while you’re watching, keep a running tally of how many times the narrator says, “Man!” 

It’s pretty hilarious.

Also, note the number of times he growls. Very manly.

My mouth was watering while I watched it. I could almost taste the buttery garlic and onion mixed with the rich, juicy taste of the ribeye. Ya just gotta see it.

Bee-bop along to the kickin’ music as you watch this video. (It really is pretty well done. No pun intended.) Then, git you some juicy ribeyes and try it yerself! Yee-haw!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vB16Dbjz8oo

My neighborhood is filled with eclectic tastes and I really like it that way.

So all right, here’s the scoop on the neighbors across the street.

They don’t eat meat.

Yes, it’s true. Don’t. Eat. Meat.

We, personally, don’t understand that.

My husband and I like to have our friends and neighbors over to the house to share a great meal (usually something we’ve grilled up) and some great conversation.

And the talk always turns to food. Likes, dislikes, best ways to prepare certain foods.

So . . . what would we have to talk about with a couple who doesn’t eat meat?

What would we serve at that dinner party?

Meat is such an essential ingredient for us. It’s the big show. The main event. It’s what we build the entire meal around.

We’re lost without it. We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves.

Don’t get me wrong. Our neighbors are wonderful people. We’ve had lively conversations with them out by the curb. And we’d love to have them over.

But only if we can bring them over to the dark side.

Until then, our relationship will have to be restricted to neighborly nods and discussions about weather and landscaping.

It’s just too bad they can’t appreciate the intoxicating smell of a sizzling steak on the grill. They’re missing out on one of life’s greatest pleasures.

I wonder what would happen if I left a steaming hot gift basket on their doorstep, rang the bell and ran . . .