Why fire
There is no gas line to the heart of our kitchen. Everything that matters starts as a log.
Fire is not a garnish here, it is the flavour. Oak with a little apple wood gives the meat a smoke you cannot fake with a burner, and a crust that a pan will never build.
It also sets the pace. Wood cooks on its own schedule, so the kitchen learns to wait — which, on a night with a band playing, turns out to be the right way to cook anyway.
Reading the coals
A live fire has no dial. You cook by where the food sits, not by a number, so half the work is reading the bed of coals and moving things toward the heat or away from it.
White ash on top means steady, even warmth — that is where the vegetables go. A flare-up gets one minute for the sear and then a step back. A cook's hand, held over the grate, is the only thermometer that matters.