A typical California evening.

We are outside, wearing flip-flops, but wrapped in a light blanket. I’m chatting with my husband, enjoying the jazz radio reverberating from my neighbour’s windows off the buildings and the dark night air…

I wait.

I love Trader Joe’s. Trader Joe’s has stolen my heart. Trader Joe’s has really yummy pollo asada which I’d purchased and had planned to bake. But Ryan, when he came home tonight, was adamant that we grill it.

We live in a typical southern California apartment. We don’t have a balcony. We do have an “outdoor” hallway. Where we keep our little grill.

So out we go to what we call the balcony right in front of our neighbour’s door where Ryan pours lighter fluid on the stale briquettes. And we wait.

And we wait.

And about an hour later, we’ve got the heat we need to cook the pollo asada.

And boy was it good pollo asada. We had it over a spinach, brocolli and feta salad. Very So-Cal. Very yum. Very worth the wait. And very worth the smoky jazz.


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