Grill Sergeant Hartwell

You guys, I married a man who approaches grilling like he’s performing surgery.

Grill Sergeant Hartwell

Look at this concentration! He’s got the tongs, he’s got the technique, he’s got the apron that I bought him as a joke but he wears unironically.

Marcus has designated himself the official family grill master, which means I get to sit on the deck with a glass of wine while he conducts his meat orchestra.

The concentration level: NASA mission control

The precision with which he examines each burger is honestly impressive. Or concerning. I haven’t decided.

Burger perfection achieved

And there’s the victory pose because apparently we’re celebrating medium-well burgers like we just won the World Series. But you know what? They were actually perfect, so maybe the drama is justified.

Mission accomplished

Plus, anything that gets my husband this excited about cooking dinner gets my full support.

Now excuse me while I go kiss the cook. The apron demands it.