They seem to be everywhere these days. Every time I turn around, there's another gleaming, stainless-steel gas grill. At my hardware store, of course, but they're even at my grocery store. It seems like you can't call yourself a cook unless you've got a grill.

Every time I see one, I have an impulse to buy another bag of charcoal. Then I light a little fire in my old kettle grill, and 20 to 25 minutes later, I'm ready to cook something delicious: a butterflied leg of lamb marinated in yogurt and Indian spices, a whole chicken flattened and cooked under a brick so it's crisp and juicy, or hickory-smoked spice-rubbed pork ribs so good they don't need sauce.

Grilling is a simple art, and the only thing fancy equipment does is add convenience.

I'm a back-to-basics guy, especially when the basics are so simple to master. Buy a grill (a really good one will cost less than $150). Add a charcoal chimney (a sure-fire way to light coals quickly) and one or two other little things, and you're ready to go.

But there are a couple of things you have to think about when cooking with fire. The first, of course, is the fire. The tendency is to fill the grill with many coals. This works well if you're starting a blacksmith shop, but cooking requires a more deft touch.

You'll want to use only a chimney full of coals, and unless you're grilling quick-cooking food such as vegetables, flank steak or fish, slope the coals against one side of the grill. This gives you two temperatures to work with — very hot directly over the fire and somewhat cooler away from the flame.

Use the very hot side to sear meat, and then move it away to cook through. Unless you're looking for steak charred outside and raw inside, you'll get a moist, evenly cooked piece of meat by cooking over a cooler fire.

Even better, this also discourages those raging flare-ups that are the bane of every grill cook. Because the high-heat cooking that renders fat happens early, by the time the flare-ups get bad, the meat should be safely away from the hotter fire.

This is particularly true for fatty meats like chicken with the skin on. Grill the chicken under a brick over the direct flame and you'll wind up with charred skin and raw flesh. Let it cook more gently over indirect heat, and the skin turns golden and crisp while the meat stays moist and juicy.

This is the classic Italian pollo al mattone. I have never found an explanation for why cooking a flattened chicken under a brick makes it taste so wonderful, but there's no arguing with the results.

Which coals: hardwood or briquettes?

That question can inspire hours of debate. The truth: It doesn't make that much difference. Hardwood charcoal is better for most grilling because it burns hotter and cleaner, and there's very little ash left after the fire dies.

But for pork shoulder or spareribs, you're going to need the fire to cook low and slow for a few hours, so using longer-lasting briquettes will spare you the need to refuel.

Marinades are another area of controversy. They're a point of pride for some cooks, who think that there's nothing like a long soak in an herb-scented tub to improve a piece of meat.

In most cases, you're better off with a short dip.

The fact is that many marinades never penetrate much beyond the surface of the meat. And really, that's enough. Much of the meat we grill is fairly thin anyway, so you're likely to have a flavored surface in every bite.

The problem with long soaks is that if the marinade contains any acidity — lemon juice, vinegar, even the lactic acid in yogurt — it will break down the protein structure of the meat, resulting in a mealy texture.

When I cooked the leg of lamb in yogurt and spices, marinating the meat overnight, the outside of the lamb seemed pasty in texture. When I cooked it a second time, amping up the seasoning but marinating for only an hour, the flavor was just as good and the texture firm and meaty.

One exception to this marinade rule is brining. Brines (salt-water solutions) keep chicken and pork moist during cooking, and because they contain either very little acidity or none at all, they don't break down the meat.

That's also true for dry, salt-based seasoning mixes, which operate in much the same way as a brine: The salt pulls moisture from the meat and the meat reabsorbs the seasoned moisture, giving it deep flavor.

A dry rub for barbecue is a good example. Rubs are fun to play with. Start with roughly equal measures of salt and red pepper — paprika or powdered chile — and complement them with dried herbs and spices. A little sugar is nice too. Keep tasting until the mixture hits the right note for you.

This rub is so good that I prefer to serve ribs without any barbecue sauce. If you want to serve a sauce, brush it on for the last five minutes of cooking. Most sauces contain sugar, which has a distressing tendency to scorch and blacken.

Of course, every rule has its exception, and here it's the vinegar-based sauces that are popular in North Carolina. Point of usage: Vinegar-based sauces that are applied throughout the cooking are usually called "mops," as in "hog mop."

There are a couple of tricks to preparing ribs. I prefer spareribs to baby back ribs, because they are fattier and don't dry out during slow cooking.

But spareribs do need to be trimmed before the rub goes on. First, cut away excess fat or meat that isn't supported by a rib. You'll also notice there's a flap of meat that stretches diagonally across the ribs. If you want, remove it; that way the meat will be done about the same. Cook the removed bit and the rest of the meaty scraps with the ribs and you'll have a griller's treat that will be done about halfway through the smoking period.

Most important, you must remove the thin, tough membrane that is attached to the bone side of the ribs. It will prevent smoke and seasoning from penetrating, and the ribs will be tough.

Slip a thin, sharp knife between the first rib and the membrane and cut away, leaving a flap of membrane. Use a paper towel to get a firm grip on the flap and pull gently but firmly across the rack; the membrane will come up with a tearing sound. If it comes up in strips, repeat the process until it's all gone.

Build a fire and let it calm a little. Add soaked hickory chips to cool it more and get the smoke going. Then put on the ribs. If you're doing more than one slab, you can buy a metal rack to hold them upright, or do what I do — turn an oven-roasting rack upside down and stack the ribs between the supports.

You'll know when the ribs are ready because the meat will be so tender that when you wiggle the bone in the center, it will almost pull free. That can take two hours or more.