Random Opinion: We Need More BBQ Dads

If you lived in a middle to upper-class suburban neighborhood, you know these guys.

I grew up in a white, upper class suburb in New Jersey, and for the most part, it sucked. However, I’ll say this much: I got to grow up with a veritable safari of subtle subcultures all found within the white person world. It was, frankly, fascinating.

I have written quite a bit about the woman “tribes” in this area. Some were more than one of these categories, but you could always see them hanging out together in their own cliques.

There were the Italian mama housewives who always wore heels with their makeup on point, the WASPy cardigan-wearing soccer moms who summered in Martha’s Vineyard, the business power couples who never saw their kids, and of course, the “woo woo” MFA-toting art moms. Oh, and wine moms.

Of course, the men had their own unique tendencies as well — and sometimes, it often felt like I preferred watching them in their habitats. It just seemed a bit less stressed and drugged out, at least on the surface. They had less of a gilded cage, I suppose.

Yes, the men had their own ranks. The “old money” guy who drive a Toyota but had the $30,000 a year country club membership, the Wall Street bro, the “good ol’ boy” who grew up in town and was surprisingly blue collar, the nerdy member of the intelligentsia, and of course the CEO were all there.

My favorite, though? My favorite had to be the barbecue dad.

Author’s Note: BBQ dads come in all flavors, including the specialty subculture of cookout dads who are notoriously amazing chefs. But we’re going to focus on the generic, all-American suburban BBQ dad culture I grew up near.

Who is the barbecue dad?

The barbecue dad is the cornerstone of suburbia, really. He’s the guy who probably belonged to a party frat when he was in college, but has since settled down into middle management. Maybe he has his own business. Usually it’s lawncare or a car dealership.

He’s occasionally the guy who volunteers at the fire department or does some stuff like that just because he’s “got friends in the system.” But, you know, that’s not all he does. He also barbecues.

You can always tell who’s the barbecue dad in the suburban neighborhood. How can you tell?

• There’s a barbecue happening at least once a month at his place, if not more. The barbecue itself is generally mediocre in most cases. I mean, it’s a pile of hamburger patties from Costco, minimally seasoned. If he’s feeling spicy, it’ll involve hot dogs too.
• You can hear 90s party barbecue music in the background. He’s playing Sugar Ray. Maybe Fastball and Maroon 5. Oh, and Smash Mouth.
• Chances are high that he was in a frat. If he wasn’t, he definitely had a brood of bros around him in his 20s. He was a part of bro culture.
• There are some kids looking bored. If you’re one of those kids and were me, then you probably looked edgy and unimpressed. But, for every kid looking bored, there’s at least six having fun playing outside.
• At least one mom in the area looks like she’s having a mini panic attack. It’s usually the mom whose son just said that he’s dropping out of tennis or because the youngest kid pooped in the pool. Or maybe it’s because her ambrosia isn’t tasty or because her Funfetti cake got smudged. You get the idea.
• Said barbecue dad is wearing a crew neck tee, cargo shorts (or bermuda shorts, or basketball shorts), and slide sandals. I’ll also note that areas with lots of ticks may require said BBQ dad to wear socks and sneakers. Dad hats are optional.
• His grill is his domain. It even may say such things on his apron, which may or may not be present. It depends on whether he reached Level 30 or not in the BBQ Dad game.
• Beer. It’s the all-American fratboy way. And he’s still a fratboy at heart. Beer is often served up with a side of dad jokes.

Why are barbecue dads so damn cool?

Honestly, it’s hard to fully put my finger on it. In their own weird way, BBQ dads are a comforting sight to see. They remind you that, hey, you don’t have to be the guy in the jacket with drunk girls everywhere near you to be cool.

A BBQ dad is a man of stability. He’s the guy that kids feel safe going to when they need a soccer team coach. He’s the dude who grows a community around him that’s both about having fun while keeping things quite comfortably mundane.

In other words, the BBQ dads of the world are the ones who make people smile. They’re safe. They’re chill. They’re (in their own way) the role models people want to have, even if they tend to serve up bland burgers. In other words, they make the white picket fence life look nice.

For people like me, the BBQ dad represents a reality that we’re not a part of. When we do get to hit the barbecue with them, we’re not just getting served up a dry burger patty. We’re getting served a delicious taste of fraternity, dadhood, and the sweetest side of surburbia.

Being around a true barbecue dad is infectious in the best way possible. He makes grilling look great. Maybe that’s why there was a whole “BBQ Dad Fest” inspired by a Craigslist ad.

Even if you don’t have a dad, you can have a father in the barbecue dad.

There is something totally unique about the barbecue dad’s role in suburban society, and it’s something that’s symbolized by both food and the neighborhood. The BBQ dad is everyone’s father figure and the patriarch of the grill.

When you’re at a BBQ dad’s barbecue, you have the dude who is either your best friend or your father figure. Sometimes, it’s a little bit of both. And you know what? That’s pretty damn sweet.