Happiness is a heat gun
My beloved big green egg is smoking away, but its factory thermometer has given up, maxing out at 200 degrees. The perfect excuse, it turns out to get a gadget: a point and shoot thermometer with a laser target. I've seen piazzolos use them to make sure their ovens are cresting around 800 degrees, but me, I've been using it to assess our heat wave. My kids seem to be a cool 91 on the surface, the dog, even a few degrees cooler. But the back threshold of our west-facing house hit 150 yesterday afternoon. So basically, it is too hot to cook. Instead, I will eat tomatoes and melon and feta and wait out the heat.