Pizza on the barbe yields burnt offering

I escaped without losing any hair or eyebrows, but the meal ended up in the trash.

Probably a win-win for the my family.

The other night I thought I would try something new, pizza on the grill.

As with most new menu items I decide to cook, I saw a picture, it looked good, thought I would try it.

Did not bother to read a recipe or suggestions on how it might work, and I did not give much thought to whether I had a grill that could handle pizza. Who needs instructions or planning when you have imagination.

I like to try something new and see how it comes out, even if reading a few, simple instructions might make all the difference. Case-in-point, the grilled pizza.

I figured it would be easy to wrap the grates on the grill with aluminum foil and put the dough on the foil, cook it and then add the toppings.

In my head it was a simple, if not a well-thought-out-plan, that would leave my family oohing and ahhing at this creation with me taking bows at the end of the meal.

Like I said, imagination is a good thing.

First of all, the dough I formed into a pair of perfect circles, turned into misshapen rectangles when transported from tray to grill.

Quickly saw that round pizzas were not going to work, so I was willing to accept rectangles — if I could just get the dough to stretch a little.

It did stretch. It stretched and stretched until there were holes in the dough. Tried pushing the dough back together, and then gave up. Who cares if there was a hole or two in the pizzas, it is the taste that matters most, right?

So I went with the misshapen pizza dough, got it settled on the grill, and I thought I was on my way.

Everything looked like it was going well, dough started to brown, and it would just be a matter of minutes before this creation was perfected.

I ducked in the house to ready the toppings and was back outside to check on this delicious meal.

Came back outside and saw enough smoke coming from the grill that I thought either there was a new pope or I needed to call the fire department.

In the brief moment as I walked toward the grill I told myself everything is fine, just a lot of smoke.

But in the brief time I was inside, my creation dissolved into a smoky, charred, hardened, misshapen rectangular piece of dough fit for the trash can.

My grand experiment went up in smoke, and unlike many who take their cooking serious (the ones who actually take the time to read recipes and how to prepare a meal) I surrender. Not likely I’ll try to toss a pizza on the grill again.

I know my limitations — hamburgers, pork chops and chicken. Don’t have any problems getting them to turn out on the grill. I will leave the pizzas and other types of food to the experts who are more brave and talented than me.

Not sure it was any big loss for the family. When I first told my kids I was making pizza on the grill they thought I was crazy. My son just looked at me, and my daughter said she would eat at work.

My wife was more comforting. Told me at least I was willing to try something new.

We still had pizza that night. It was delivered without all the smoke and fire.

Patrick Murphy is assistant managing editor of The Telegram. Reach him at 563-7505 or pmurphy@columbustelegram.com