The last charcoal grilling before winter

There's something special about the last grilling evening of the year. Not the one you plan, but the one you take because the charcoal is sitting there and the temperature just barely allows it – around zero, a breath of ice in the air, the grass dewy even though the clock hasn't passed much past six. I stood on the porch yesterday with a whisky glass in hand and felt that this was probably the last time this year I'd light up outdoors. It made me a little wistful, and hungry in a very particular way – the kind of hunger that wants something dark, smoke-filled and juicy, not summer's light chicken skewers.

Autumn grilling is a different discipline than the July evening with rosé and shrimp. The cold means the meat needs longer on the grill to get properly heated through without drying out, and that's exactly what opens up for better flavour: more time over embers means more time for the smoke to settle into the fibres.

When the temperature drops, my patience for thin marinades drops too. I want something with body – a marinade built on dark beer, soy sauce, a little brown sugar and crushed juniper berries works wonders on pork neck or leg of lamb. The beer's bitterness and caramel notes work their way into the meat overnight, and when you grill it over good hot embers the next evening, the sugar caramelises into a dark, almost bitter crust on the outside.

For vegetables, I think differently in autumn. Root vegetables like parsnip, beetroot and carrot can take direct heat for a long time, and a simple brushing with browned butter, dried thyme and a little sherry vinegar gives them a depth that recalls autumn more than summer's zucchini logic.

If you want extra smoke character without building your own smoker box, soaked juniper twigs or a couple of handfuls of beech wood chips thrown straight on the embers are an easy way there. Put the lid on the grill for the last few minutes so the smoke can work its way in before the meat is done – that's the difference between "grilled" and "smoked and grilled", and that difference is clearly noticeable in cold November air where the flavour becomes sharper and more concentrated anyway.

When the food turns dark and smoke-filled, I instinctively follow with drinks in the same register. A robust porter is an obvious choice for grilled, fatty meat – the dark malt sweetness and the light burnt bitterness mirror the grill crust instead of competing with it. Sleeping Village Black Alder Robust Porter is exactly the kind of full-bodied, dark beer that can handle both smoke flavour and fat without drowning.

For those who want wine, I like to bring out something with enough structure to stand up to caramelised fat and juniper berry spice. Mount Eden Domaine Eden Cabernet Sauvignon 2018 has the kind of dark fruit and firm tannin structure that works well with leg of lamb straight off the grill, while a Fuligni Brunello di Montalcino 2021 gives more cherry and herbs – good for game-like meat or beetroot glazed in balsamico.

But it was the whisky I really wanted to talk about. Something in the smoky, peat-heavy character of Scotch whisky meets charcoal in a way no other drink does. Thunder in the Glens, a blended scotch, is exactly the kind of dram I want in hand while the embers die out and my breath becomes visible in the air – not necessarily for the food, but for the silence afterwards.

For those who don't drink alcohol, a cup of hot, dark apple juice simmered with a cinnamon stick and a couple of cloves is a surprisingly good parallel – the sweetness and spice give the same feeling of weight as the whisky, just without the alcohol. Serve it hot in the same glass you'd use for a dram, and you get a bit of the same ritual feeling.

Next time the charcoal is ready, it might be dark winter evenings waiting instead of dew-wet autumn. But this particular evening, with dew on the grass and the last embers slowly dying out, was a worthy close to the season.