I trimmed it. I seasoned it. I bought the wood. I stood in the freezing smoke for 14 hours while you drank my beer inside the warm house. The burnt ends are my tax. This hoodie serves as a legally binding notice to all guests: Do not ask for the burnt ends. They never made it to the platter. They are currently in my stomach.
The Chef's Privilege: Perfect for the host of the cookout. Wear this hoodie to set boundaries and stay warm while you eat the best parts.
