When the sun shines in the summer in much of the Western world, barbecue sets are cleaned and the sale of charcoal soars. So I was not surprised when I saw our neighbour assembling a complicated-looking gadget in his front garden. When I asked him what he was up to, Michael said it was a family get-together the following weekend and he had ordered a new barbecue to cook lunch. When I learned that it was gas-fired, I sneered inwardly: we pros consider barbecuing on gas to be strictly for amateurs.

But it has its advantages: getting it going is easy and you can adjust the temperature. However, you don’t get the smoky flavour you get from a charcoal or a wood fire. By sheer chance, I was barbecuing for our houseguests for the first time this summer and had cleaned my very basic Weber for the occasion.

I had bought a kilo of diced lamb the previous day and proceeded to marinate it with powdered cumin (zeera) and red chilli flakes rubbed into the meat with half a cup of virgin olive oil. I then whipped a cup of plain yoghurt and mixed it into the lamb and covered the bowl with cling-film and placed it in the fridge overnight.

Getting the heat right is the key to barbecuing: the idea is to let the coals burn until the flames have subsided and there is pale grey ash covering the charcoal. You now have a uniform high heat that is perfect for cooking. If you put your ingredients on the fire earlier than this moment, the flames will char the surface before the interior is cooked.

Old is gold; only charcoal or wood fire gives that smoky flavour to your barbecue

All too often, inexperience or hunger pushes amateur cooks to expedite the process and the result is burnt but raw food being forced on to reluctant guests. Almost universally, barbecuing is a male preserve and brings out the machismo in us. I suppose this dates back to the early days when cavemen brought home chunks of game they had hunted and butchered, and held over a fire at the end of sticks.

Whatever its origins, barbecuing is the most basic form of cooking, and most men think it is sufficient to slap steaks or sausages onto a barbecue and let nature take its course. But luckily, there’s a lot more to barbecuing than this.

After I had lit my charcoal (a dash of lighting fluid or plain petrol helps) and was satisfied that it was going well, I removed the excess yoghurt from the meat and placed the pieces on wooden skewers. A couple of hours earlier, I had put the skewers in a bowl of water: if they are dry, the ends might catch fire.

By this time, the flames had subsided and the coals were very hot. I quickly rubbed some oil on the grill to prevent the meat from sticking and placed the skewers on it, letting the meat cook for around five minutes on one side. Just remember not to have the meat diced too small otherwise it will dry out very quickly. About an inch on each side is fine.

By now the meat was sizzling and the mouth-watering smell of barbecued meat had wafted across the garden. Using tongs, I turned the skewers over and basted the meat with oil, using a brush. Drops of oil caused the fire to flare momentarily, and that caused a few blisters on the meat. This adds to the finish you want: a dark gold on the outside with a slight charring, while the meat is juicy inside. And that’s exactly how the lamb ended up on our plates. Served with small new potatoes that had been boiled, and had good olive oil and sea salt sprinkled on them, plus a green salad, the barbecued lamb could not have been in better company.

Best of all, I learned the next day that Michael had burned his family lunch on his fancy new barbecue. Amateurs!

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, June 29th, 2014