Ah, I've learned NEVER to come between a man and his grill. When Mr. Babe is grilling, I stay in the house and meekly prepare the sides to go with his masterpiece.
Reminds me of "Forget Paris" (a movie with Billy Crystal). There's a scene with that guy you liked from "West Wing" in which he's grilling the steaks and he tells his wife to go inside and prepare the salads - the "girl food".
