Mr. Kravitz bought the building a new Weber yesterday just in time for our first barbecue of the season. We’ve had two stolen: he bought a lock to lock it to the gate.

A new Weber: we’re not sure how many ways we’re going to split it. It doesn’t really matter. It’s for  everyone’s use. And for all the barbecue we’re gonna have this summer.

And if it gets us through the summer, we’re ahead of the game.

"We’re getting very Slopey," Phized said watching over the shrimp kabobs, the Chilean sea bass kabobs and the Fairway meats that were cooking on the grill.

Clearly, this is not a hamburger and hot dogs crowd. Come to think of it, there were no burgers last night. None. Though Hebrew National franks were in good supply. We’ve been doing these potluck barbcues for a few years now and we is getting fancy.

It’s amazing how quickly we pull these barbecue together. It started Sunday afternoon. "Anyone wanna do a Memorial Day barbecue?" A sign went up on the the front door, neighbors from other buildings were invited informally. Bowls of salad, guacamole, hummus were prepared. Corn shucked. Chicken microwaved in advance because everyone is squeamish about undercooked childen. There’s always lots of wine, exotic beers, lemonade in the big red cooler.

Most importantly, the kids make sure their parents bought marshmallows, graham crackers, and Hershey bars for S’mores.

Who says you can’t make S’mores in the front yard of a Brooklyn apartment building?

Fofolle brought blue and pink straw cowboys hats for everyone to wear. Mrs. Kravitz made a joke about "Brokeback Brownstone," which everyone thought was pretty funny.

You had to be there, I guess.

Every chair in the basement was brought upstairs. It’s an odd assortment: dining room chairs, folding chairs, office chairs, beach chairs. Whatever. There was nothing even vaguely Martha Stewartish about this event. It couldn’t have been less tasteful in its chaotic mish-mash of bowls, chairs,  paper plates (leftover from birthday parties), white paper cups, less than artful presentation of meat hot off the grill.

But it was perfect. And the food was delicious. Especially the Chilean sea bass kabobs, which were prepared by a 13-year-old boy who lives across the street, an aspiring chef. A friend of Ravi, our resident sitar player, he wore a white chef’s coat and watched over the kabobs carefully as they cooked on the grill.

Mr. Kravitz started cooking at around 4:00. The party was done by 10 p.m. The clean up went pretty quick. Everything returned to the basement. The Weber cleaned and locked up. The kids, who were still racing their bikes, trikes, and scooters up and down Third Street, were sent to bed.

Everyone went back to their respective apartment buildings on Third Street. Those who came from farther away took car service chariots home.

Afterward, a quiet moment sitting on the stoop, talking and taking in the cool night breeze.