Cookout vs. Grilling vs. BBQ

As the summer approaches, outdoor cooking and eating is more prevalent. Recently stated to me, "what the South calls Grilling, the North calls BBQ" made me wonder what exactly each mean. Now, a cookout seems to cover all. The meal is prepared outdoors using heat supplied via gas, charcoal, or wood, followed by consumption outdoors too. 
Grilling adds specifics to the way of cooking, differentiating from open pit and campfire. There are gas grills, charcoal grills, and smoker grills with wood smoke boxes. To me, this isn't a BBQ.
A BBQ is an event, it includes grilling (ribs, chicken, hot dogs, hamburgers), eating outdoors, family, friends, music, games, joy and laughter.

Yesterday we had a BBQ.  Hubby grilled several slabs of ribs, sausages, hot dogs, and chicken. Also he prepared his "original" baked beans and BBQ sauce, while I prepared the cole slaw and managed the cleanup as-you-go.  We hung out in the garage where the kids went back and forth from sitting with us and playing games to frequent bike rides.  The garage was convenient for protection from the scattered rain showers we had all day. For some, this may be called a BBQ, but for me, the addition of music tops off the definition.  Music can be live, cd, mp3, or even streamed as we did.  But the significance is how the music was provided.  Hubby ran new speaker wire from his amp to an old speaker, piping the music streamed from Pandora through my phone connected to the amp and the indoor speakers and now outdoor speaker in the garage.  Later in the day, a neighbor and his dog joined us to finish off the day.

Now that is what a BBQ is to me.  What does it mean to you?

the first time...

fresh
succulent
juicy
tongue-tantalizing
moist
tender
sweet

hmmm...yummy...first melon of the summer

i'll just have to settle

As a kid, a part of my summer break would be spent preparing for our annual family cookout. It was somewhat a regional family reunion for my dad's folks but later incorporated my mom's too. In the preparations, besides cleaning the house and yard, there would be the daunting task of picking peaches. This task served multiple purposes. The most rewarding was the homemade peach ice cream my mom would make. Mind you there was no electric churn. We all took turns cranking the handle. The younger ones would churn when the batter was in a milky state, but older ones took over when it started to freeze. Her ice cream has always been a highlight of the event. The other purpose was to salvage as much fruit as we could because many would get knocked off the tree during the volleyball game, or slammed during the kickball game, or just bumped off by kids running around.
It has been years since we've had the cookout. The last one the year before my dad took ill with leukemia. He was the main stimulus for the event. The participants of my paternal and maternal family grew to include family friends also. The last one was so large, a community center was rented to house everyone. Besides the lack of parking, we realized as we grew older that it was TOO HOT in Central Georgia to do this outside.
Last year that old tree, "peached out". Too old to hold peach-laiden branches. Now it's trunk is just a reminder of old times. Fortunately, a squirrel, chipmunk, 'possom, stray cat, or whatever creature must have predicted the demise of that old tree years ago and planted a pit in another flower bed. That pit has grown to produce another generation of Georgia Cling peaches.
As I walked around my mom's yard the other day, searching for rippened fruit, I was saddened that the few that remained were still green. But hope emerged, her patio blueberry shrubs were ready to be picked, washed, and consumed.

Now I cannot have my much-awaited peaches, I'll just have to settle for home-grown fresh blueberry cobbler.

Side note: That old tree produced so many peaches, one summer I opted for a peach sandwich (peaches, mayo, and bread) one day when the sandwich meat was frozen. It was actually good.