It turns out you guys were pretty keen to get your hands on a Weber braai for Father’s Day, sending in a number of brilliant (and some rather awkward) Weber Braai Tales for our competition.

Our entries closed on Friday, and as promised today we’re announcing who nabbed themselves the goods.

We all had a good chuckle around the office reading them, but in the end only one reader could walk away with the Weber 57cm Master Touch braai.

Here’s that winning entry then from a chap called Juandre:

In my early twenties I worked for a local film company who specialised in cooking / travel shows. The host of the show was a self-proclaimed bush cook, who prepared some old favourites plus a few local exotics – the spade steak, dustbin pizza and all seafood carpetbagger to name a few – in and around Southern Africa with the aid of his ‘mates’.

I was especially intrigued by the Poacher’s Roast – the idea was to hang a haunch of venison or lamb, in this case the whole leg with the shank attached, from a tree. Then you make a fire in a wheelbarrow and place this underneath so that it can cook slowly.

It’s done this way because the tougher cuts, like a leg of lamb, are really delicious when cooked incredibly slowly over a gentle heat for many hours.

My folks were away a weekend soon after, and I was ‘lord of the manor’. We had the garden and the perfect tree to hang it from, but to crown it all off we discovered a rusty old wheelbarrow (without wheels) in the wooden shed right next to the tree.

It all seemed preordained, we were to roast.

So my mate Tim and I got cracking, clearing out all the debris from under the tree, and throwing a piece of rope over a nice thick branch we attached the haunch. The wheelbarrow was used to make the fire at 10am, and we reckoned we’d ready to feast by around 5pm – “easy peasy”, to quote the recipe which claimed the roast would take between four and six hours.

What we hadn’t made provisions for was the prevailing South Easter, which nullified the radiant heat – so much so that after 2 hours the roast wasn’t even warm to the touch. Not a problem though, because by that time there were six of us we’d each had a good few cold ones.

Time was no object, we were in it for the long haul.  The shed was full with pieces of wood – just the right materials to build a structure to shelter our dinner from the howling Cape Doctor.

Once the ‘hok’ was up we went back to drinking, every now and then adding a piece of wood and clearing out the ash. Someone commented how much easier it would have been with a Weber, where the wheel actually turned and a tray caught the ash, and we joked about being “cooked in Africa”.

But we were determined to make it work, adding a foil reflector attached to a microwave stand and a couple of other contraptions. Eventually we dragged off the wheelbarrow and transferred the fire onto the ground, and the ash stopped being a problem.

All this time mates came and went but the beer kept flowing, and by around 10 pm we were as hungry as jackals and totally hammered. I don’t really remember eating the roast, or if it was tasty or tough, but I do remember thinking that without the aid of a professional chef and a production crew this roast was way harder than it looked on TV.

Once fed we retired into the house to carry on jolling and at some stage I staggered into my parent’s bathroom to relieve myself.  Through my drunken haze I realised that the garden was lit up like a cracker, which was odd as by now it was around midnight.

And then it dawned on me – the place was on fire. I stumbled outside to discover that Tim’s masterful ‘hok’ had fallen onto the coals, caught alight and that the entire shed and hedge were ablaze and it was spreading fast.

My mates were finding it difficult to appreciate the gravity of the situation, and I distinctly remember one telling me to stop wetting the shed as he thought the flames really quite beautiful and I was ruining his high.

Needless to say I earned my fireman’s hat that night, although I only managed to stop the flames once it had burnt half the shed, the entire garden gate and seriously blacked the side of the house.

Best thing I ever did for my old man. Ten years later and my folks have cleaned up the walls, replaced the shed and the barrow and built a lovely deck and pond beneath the tree. Now, when I visit, we sit on the deck and enjoy a quiet beer in the garden – all that’s missing is a Weber braai to make this spot perfect.

Well we’re glad we could be of assistance, and I’m sure that Weber braai will make the old man smile when it arrives on that deck.

Thanks to all the entrants for bringing smiles to our dials and don’t give up hope – we have another Weber giveaway coming up soon, maybe that’ll be your time to shine.