11 Ways to Master Your Charcoal Grill


Whether you’re hosting the big family reunion or a casual backyard dinner, nothing brings hungry folks together like the smell of charcoal at a summer cookout. In some regards, grilling is the easiest cooking method imaginable: food plus fire equals savory charred morsels. But a perfect picnic requires more than just knowing how to flip the burgers. No matter if you’re a blue-ribbon barbecue boss or a rotisserie rookie, these steps will help you get the most out of your charcoal grill.


Always begin with a quick clean-up from the previous grilling session. First, clear out the powdery ash that accumulates in the bottom of the grill. Depending on the model of your grill, you may be able to sweep these ashes out through a vent or trap-door, or you may have a removable tray that can be emptied directly into the trash. Then use a grill-safe coil brush or pumice stone (wire brushes can be hazardous) to remove any charred food remains from the cooking grid.


Before you reach for the lighter, take a few minutes to craft a game plan for your grilling session. Consider what types of food you’re making, how many people you’re cooking for, and how long you’ll need the coals to stay hot. Those factors affect how much charcoal you should use, how the coals should be configured, and how long it will take the grill to reach cooking temperature.


American grills use two main types of charcoal: pre-treated briquettes and natural lump charcoal. Briquettes, the more popular option, include small amounts of flammable additives (like sodium nitrate) to improve how they burn. But those same elements can give your food unwanted acrid flavors if the coating hasn’t entirely burned off, so make sure the coals are covered in a light gray ash before you start cooking. Also, if you start before they’re completely covered in ash, your grill will continue to heat up while you cook, and things can easily get way too hot. Ideally, briquettes won’t impart any flavor on their own, so if you prefer a classic smoky taste, you’ll need to add extra wood chips. In the U.S., Kingsford is the most popular brand of briquette, and can be found at nearly any grocery or hardware store.


Purists sometimes prefer natural lump charcoal, made from aged hardwood. With no additives and irregular-shaped pieces, the hardwood variety generally heats up faster and hotter, but requires a bit more care when managing the fire. The advantage is that lump charcoal can give food a delicious natural smoky flavor, with no need for extra chips. The brands Royal Oak and Cowboy are nearly ubiquitous, but true specialists should check out Doug Hanthorn’s Lump Charcoal Database, which reviews and ranks nearly 100 different types of hardwood charcoal.


Lighting the coals can be a stumbling block for novice grillers, especially in windy or humid conditions. No matter which charcoal you’re using, the most reliable method is to use a chimney starter, a large metal cylinder that sits directly atop the cooking grid. Place a starter (like crumpled newspaper or paraffin cubes) in the lower chamber, fill the upper chamber with charcoal, then use a long-handled lighter to ignite the starter. After 20 to 30 minutes, once the top coals are covered in ash, use protective gloves to remove the cooking grid and pour the coals into the bottom of the grill and place the starter somewhere safe to cool. Best of all, chimney starters are cheap—grab one at your local hardware store for about $20.


Sure, there’s a cheap thrill to be had in using lighter fluid to create a fireball in your grill. But too much lighter fluid can leave your food with a gross chemical taste, defeating the point of grilling entirely. If you’re using a chimney starter, you can forget the fluid—thermodynamics will do the rest. In lieu of a chimney, a splash of lighter fluid will help get those coals glowing, but restrain yourself from soaking the whole pile in the stuff. Squirt just a bit of lighter fluid onto a few briquettes (making sure that the briquettes don’t already have lighter fluid in them), wait a couple minutes, then light them. Then put the rest of the pile around the now-lit coals. Now be patient while those nasty chemicals burn off; again, you’re waiting for the coals to be covered in a light layer of ash before introducing food.


Grilling is all about heat, but not all heat is created equal. Most grilling mainstays, including burgers, hot dogs, steaks, boneless chicken, and vegetables, benefit from direct heatplacing the food right above the glowing coals. Denser meat like ribs or whole chickens do better away from the heart of the fire, so the meat can slowly roast without the exterior burning to a crisp. But fear not, multitasking chef—your trustworthy grill can easily accommodate multiple cooking zones simultaneously. To create a basic two-zone fire, simply pile the coals on one side of the grill, with the opposite side being devoid of any coals. Indirect heat on the vacant side is great not only for slow-roasting but also for keeping finished food warm before it’s plated. For even more precision, consider a three-zone fire or one of these additional configuration suggestions from Weber.


Fire needs oxygen, and lit charcoal is no exception. While the coals are heating, keep both the upper and lower vents fully open to draw air through the grill and ensure the flames don’t dwindle. Once the charcoal is ready, leave the lower vent open but utilize the upper one to control temperature: wide open for maximum heat, partially closed for a cooler, longer roast. If you’re smoking meat or fish, close the top vent entirely to trap flavors inside, but be careful to not accidentally kill the flame.


Oversized grilling implements are popular, but a standard metal spatula and tongs are more than enough to manage burgers, dogs, corn, and other staples. Smaller items may fall through the cooking grid, though, so consider using skewers or a grill basket to keep your mushrooms, peppers, or other veggies in place. Metal baskets also work great for fish (which can also be cooked on a cedar plank or even directly atop a bed of citrus slices), and a pizza stone opens up endless Italian possibilities. Perhaps the most underrated tool in the grillmaster’s arsenal, however, is the basting brush: A few extra coats of sauce—when applied at the right time—can make the difference between a succulent success or a dried-out disappointment.


An all-day party or multicourse dinner may well require more fuel than your grill can hold at once. If it looks like your guests’ appetites are going to outlast the fire, be proactive and add additional charcoal while the coal bed is still hot (use tongs or heatproof gloves to protect your hands). Don’t wait until the coals have burned down to ash and embers or you’ll be back to step one with hungry mouths waiting.


On the other hand, if you’re grilling for yourself or a small group, your fire may last longer than the meal requires. It’s perfectly safe to let the coals burn out inside the grill (under supervision), but to be more strategic, consider grilling extra food to store and use later that week. For instance, a few mixed-vegetable kebabs refrigerated overnight can be tossed with your favorite leafy greens for an effortless salad the next day.

All images courtesy of iStock.

The Science Behind Why We Crave Loud and Crunchy Foods

A number of years ago, food giant Unilever polled consumers asking how the company might improve their popular line of Magnum ice cream bars. The problem, respondents said, was that the chocolate coating of the bars tended to fall off too quickly, creating blotches of sticky goo on carpeting. Unilever reacted by changing the recipe to make the chocolate less prone to spills.

When they tested the new and improved product, they expected a warm reception. Instead, they got more complaints than before. While the updated bar didn’t make a mess, it also didn’t make the distinctive crackle that its fans had grown accustomed to. Deprived of hearing the coating collapse and crumble, the experience of eating the ice cream was fundamentally changed. And not for the better.

Smell and taste researcher Alan Hirsch, M.D. refers to it as the “music of mastication,” an auditory accompaniment to the sensory stimulus of eating. “For non-gustatory, non-olfactory stimulation, people prefer crunchiness,” he tells Mental Floss. Humans love crunchy, noisy snacks, that loud rattling that travels to our inner ear via air and bone conduction and helps us identify what it is we’re consuming. Depending on the snack, the noise can reach 63 decibels. (Normal conversations are around 60 dB; rustling leaves, 20 dB.)

When we hear it, we eat more. When we don’t—as in the case of Magnum bars, or a soggy, muted potato chip—we resort to other senses, looking at our food with doubt or sniffing it for signs of expiration. Psychologically, our lust for crispy sustenance is baked in. But why is it so satisfying to create a cacophony of crunch? And if we love it so much, why do some of us actually grow agitated and even aggressive when we hear someone loudly chomping away? It turns out there’s a lot more to eating with our ears than you might have heard.


The science of crunch has long intrigued Charles Spence, Ph.D., a gastrophysicist and professor of experimental psychology and head of the Crossmodal Research Laboratory at the University of Oxford. Food companies have enlisted him and consulted his research across the spectrum of ingestion, from packaging to shapes to the sound chips make rustling around in grocery carts.

“We’re not born liking noisy foods,” he tells Mental Floss. “Noise doesn’t give a benefit in terms of nutrition. But we don’t like soggy crisps even if they taste the same. Missing the sound is important.”

In 2003, Spence decided to investigate the sonic appeal of chips in a formal setting. To keep a semblance of control, he selected Pringles, which are baked uniformly—a single Pringle doesn't offer any significant difference in size, thickness, or crunch from another. He asked 20 research subjects to bite into 180 Pringles (about two cans) while seated in a soundproof booth in front of a microphone. The sound of their crunching was looped back into a pair of headphones.

After consuming the cans, they were asked if they perceived any difference in freshness or crispness from one Pringle to another. What they didn’t know was that Spence had been playing with the feedback in their headphones, raising or lowering the volume of their noisy crunching [PDF]. At loud volumes, the chips were reported to be fresher; chips ingested while listening at low volume were thought to have been sitting out longer and seemed softer. The duplicitous sounds resulted in a radical difference in chip perception. It may have been a small study, but in the virtually non-existent field of sonic chip research, it was groundbreaking.

A view inside a potato chip bag

For Spence, the results speak to what he considers the inherent appeal of crunchy foods. “Noisy foods correlate with freshness,” he says. “The fresher the produce, like apples, celery, or lettuce, the more vitamins and nutrients it’s retained. It’s telling us what’s in the food.”

Naturally, this signal becomes slightly misguided when it reinforces the quality of a potato chip, a processed slab of empty calories. But Spence has a theory on this, too: “The brain likes fat in food, but it’s not so good at detecting it through our mouths. Noisy foods are certainly fattier on average.”

Fatty or fresh, raising decibels while eating may also have roots in less appetizing behaviors. For our ancestors who ate insects, the crunch of a hard-bodied cricket symbolized nourishment. In a primal way, violently mincing food with our teeth could also be a way to vent and dilute aggression. “There are some psychoanalytic theories related to crunchiness and aggressive behavior,” Hirsch says. “When you bite into ice or potato chips, you’re sublimating that in a healthy way.”


All of these factors explain why crunch appeals to us. But is it actually affecting what we taste?

Yes—but maybe not the way you’d think. “Sound affects the experience of food,” Spence says. “The noise draws attention to the mouth in the way something silent does not. If you’re eating pâté, your attention can drift elsewhere, to a television or to a dining companion. But a crunch will draw your attention to what you’re eating, making you concentrate on it. Noisy foods make you think about them.”

That crunch can also influence how much food we consume. Because noisy foods tend to be fatty, Spence says, they’ll retain their flavor longer. And because the noise reinforces our idea of what we’re eating, it affords us a sense of security that allows us to keep consuming without having to look at our snack—not so important in a brightly-lit room, but crucial if we’re in a dark movie theater. “It becomes more important when you can’t see what you’re eating,” Spence says.

Thanks to this hard-wired feedback, the snack industry has made it a priority to emphasize the sounds of their foods in both development and marketing. In the 1980s, Frito-Lay funded extensive work at a Dallas plant that involved $40,000 chewing simulators. There, they discovered the ideal breaking point for a chip was four pounds per square inch (PSI), just a fraction of what we might need to tear into a steak (150 to 200 PSI). The quality and consistency of the potatoes themselves is also key, according to Herbert Stone, Ph.D., a food scientist who has worked with companies on product development. “Too thick, too hard, and people don’t like them,” Stone tells Mental Floss. “Too thin and they just crumble.”

The right potato sliced at the right thickness with the right oil at the right temperature results in a solid chip—one resilient enough to make for a satisfying break when it hits your molars, but vanishing so quickly that your brain and body haven’t even processed the calories you’ve just taken in. “If they pick it up and put it in the mouth and the crunch is not what they expect, they might put it down,” Stone says. “It’s about expectation.”

A shopper examines a bag of potato chips

Walk down the snack aisle in your local supermarket or glance at commercials and you’ll find no shortage of claims about products being the boldest, crunchiest chip available. For years, Frito-Lay marketed Cheetos as “the cheese that goes crunch!” Even cereals try to capitalize on the fervor, making mascots—Snap, Crackle, and Pop—out of the sound their Rice Krispies make when submerged in milk. One ad for a brand of crisps drew attention for “cracking” the viewer’s television screen.

For most consumers, the promise of sonic flavor will draw their attention. But for a small number of people diagnosed with a condition dubbed misophonia, the sound of a co-worker or partner crunching on chips isn’t at all pleasurable. It’s insufferable.


According to Connecticut audiologist Natan Bauman, M.D., the average noise level of someone masticating a potato chip is between 25 to 35 decibels. (Other sources peg it as closer to 63 dB when you're chewing on a chip with your mouth open, or 55 dB with your lips closed.) When you hear your own chewing, the sound is being conducted both via the air and your own bones, giving it a distinctively unique sound. (Like talking, hearing yourself chewing on a recording might be troubling.)

For someone suffering from misophonia, or the literal hatred of specific sounds, it's not their own chomping that's the problem. It's everyone else's.

When we chew, Bauman says, the auditory cortical and limbic system areas of our brain are lighting up, getting information about freshness and texture. But people with misophonia aren’t struggling with their own sounds. Instead, they're affected by others typing, clicking pens, or, more often, chewing. The sound of someone snacking is routed from the cochlea, or cavity in the inner ear, and becomes an electric signal that winds up in the brain’s amygdala, which processes fear and pleasure. That's true for everyone, but in misophonics, it lands with a thud. They’ve likely developed a trigger, or negative association, with the sounds stemming from an incident in childhood.

“If you are scolded by a parent and they happen to be eating, or smacking, it becomes negative reinforcement,” Bauman says. Chewing, lip smacking, and even breathing become intolerable for sufferers, who often feel agitated and nervous, with corresponding increases in heart rate. Some fly into a rage.

Misophonics don’t necessarily recoil at all of these sounds all of the time: It may depend on who’s doing the snacking. Often, it’s a co-worker, spouse, or family member munching away that prompts a response. Fearing they’ll damage that relationship, sufferers tend to vent online. The misophonia subreddit is home to threads with titles like “And the popcorn eater sits RIGHT next to me on the plane” and “Chips can go f-ck themselves.” (The entire content of the latter: “F-ck chips, man. That is all.”)

Bauman says misophonia can be treated using cognitive therapy. An earpiece can provide white noise to reduce trigger sounds while sufferers try to retrain their brain to tolerate the noises. But even the sight of a bag of chips can be enough to send them scrambling.

People with misophonia might also want to exercise caution when traveling. Although some Asian cultures minimize crunchy snacks because loud snacking is considered impolite, other parts of the world can produce noisier mealtimes. “In parts of Asia, you show appreciation for food by slurping,” Spence says. Slurping is even associated with a more intense flavor experience, particularly when it’s in the setting of a comparatively quiet dining establishment.

Western culture favors noisier restaurants, and there’s a good reason for that. Supposedly Hard Rock Café has mastered the art of playing loud and fast music, resulting in patrons who talked less, ate faster, and left more quickly, allowing operators to turn over tables more times in an evening.

Spence believes sound will continue to be important to gastronomy, to chefs, and to food companies looking to sell consumers on a complete experience. Snack shelves are now full of air-puffed offerings like 3-D Doritos and Pop Chips that create pillows of taste. With less volume, you’ll snack more and crunch for longer periods.

A woman snacks on a chip

But the sound of the chip is just one part of the equation. The way a bag feels when you pick it up at the store, the aroma that wafts out when you first open the bag, the concentration of flavor from the granules of seasoning on your fingers—it’s all very carefully conducted to appeal to our preferences.

“When we hear the rattle of crisps, it may encourage people to start salivating, like Pavlov’s dogs,” Spence says, referring to the Russian scientist who trained his canines to salivate when he made a certain sound. We’re conditioned to anticipate the flavor and enjoyment of chips as soon as we pick up a package. Even hearing or saying the words crispy and crunchy can prime us for the experience.

When we’re deprived of that auditory cue, we can get annoyed. After news reports emerged that Pepsi CEO Indra Nooyi had mentioned her company might consider a quieter version of Doritos for women—an idea PepsiCo later denied they would label in a gender-specific fashion—women Doritos enthusiasts rallied around the Texas state capitol, condemning the perceived gender discrimination. To protest the possible dilution of their favorite snack, they made a spectacle of crunching Doritos as loudly as they could.

London Grocery Chain Encourages Shoppers to Bring Their Own Tupperware

Why stop at bringing your own grocery bags to the store? One London grocery wants you to BYO-Tupperware. The London Evening Standard reports that a UK chain called Planet Organic has partnered with Unpackaged—a company dedicated to sustainable packaging—to install self-serve bulk-food dispensers where customers can fill their own reusable containers with dry goods, cutting down on plastic packaging waste.

To use the system, customers walk up and weigh their empty container at a self-serve station, printing and attaching a label with its tare weight. Then, they can fill it with flour, nuts, or other kinds of dry goods, weigh it again, and print the price tag before taking it up to the check out. (Regular customers only have to weigh their containers once, since they can save the peel-off label to use again next time.)

Planet Organic is offering cereals, legumes, grains, nuts, chocolate, dried fruit, and even some cleaning products in bulk as part of this program, significantly reducing the amount of waste shoppers would otherwise be taking home on each grocery trip.

Zero-waste grocery stores have been popping up in Europe for several years. These shops, like Berlin's Original Unverpackt, don't offer any bags or containers, asking customers bring their own instead. This strategy also encourages people to buy only what they need, which eliminates food waste—there's no need to buy a full 5-pound bag of flour if you only want to make one cake.

The concept is also gaining traction in North America. The no-packaging grocery store in.gredients opened in Austin, Texas in 2011. The Brooklyn store Package Free, opened in 2017, takes the idea even further, marketing itself as a one-stop shop for "everything that you'd need to transition to a low waste lifestyle." It sells everything from tote bags to laundry detergent to dental floss.

[h/t London Evening Standard]


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