Is the Weber Master Touch worth the extra money?
The Lid Holder of Your Dreams (Yes, Really)
Let’s address the elephant in the charcoal-filled room: the Weber Master Touch costs more than your average kettle grill. But does it come with a tiny grill butler named Clive who hands you tongs and whispers compliments about your brisket? Sadly, no. What it does have is a Tuck-Away lid holder—a feature so oddly satisfying, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it. No more balancing the lid on your foot like a flamingo who’s overestimated its life choices. That alone might be worth 20% of the price.
Built Like a Tank (But for Burgers)
The Master Touch isn’t just a grill; it’s a Nokia 3310 dipped in enamel. It’ll survive monsoons, your cousin’s “secret” marinade recipe (98% soy sauce), and the inevitable moment you drop a sausage and blame gravity. Compared to cheaper grills that rust faster than a snowman in July, this thing’s durability is borderline irrational. Plus, the one-touch cleaning system means you’ll spend less time scraping charcoal dust and more time arguing about whether pineapple belongs on pizza (it doesn’t).
Gourmet BBQ System: Fancy Word for “More Toys”
Here’s where Weber gets sneaky. The Master Touch includes a Gourmet BBQ System—a phrase that sounds like it was invented by a guy in a monocle. Translation:
- A hinged cooking grate for adding charcoal mid-cook (genius)
- Compatible accessories like a pizza stone or wok (absurd)
- The ability to sear steaks while slow-cooking ribs (sorcery?)
Is this necessary? No. Is it fun? Absolutely. It’s like buying a Swiss Army knife when you only need a toothpick, but suddenly you’re the MacGyver of grilled corn.
So, is it worth the cash? If you view grilling as a competitive sport and/or want a grill that’ll outlive your houseplants (RIP, Fernadette), then yes. If you just burn hot dogs and call it “art,” maybe stick with the basics. But hey, at least you’ll never lose the lid.
What is the difference between Master Touch and Premium?
Ah, the age-old question: “Is Master Touch just Premium wearing a fake mustache?” Let’s dive into this culinary soap opera. Spoiler: one of them has a spatula that might secretly be a lightsaber.
The Great Spatula Conspiracy
First, the Master Touch comes with a “Flavor Blaster 9000” grate system (patent pending, probably). It claims to turn your burgers into “meat meteors” with grill marks so sharp, they could cut through existential dread. The Premium, meanwhile, throws in a “Nap Enhancer 2.0” lid. Translation: it’s 12% better at making you abandon your guests to snooze on the patio. Priorities.
The Nap vs. Nebula Dilemma
- Master Touch: Includes a “Cosmic Temperature Control” dial. Is it science? Sorcery? Unclear. But you can grill a steak while pretending you’re piloting a spaceship.
- Premium: Boasts a “Snack Preservation Force Field” (aka a lid gasket). Keeps heat in and your mother-in-law’s opinions about your brisket out.
And let’s not forget the “Certified Grill Wizard” certificate that comes with Master Touch. It’s printed on parchment made from recycled hot dog wrappers. The Premium? You get a 3-page pamphlet titled “So You’ve Decided to Not Burn Things.” Both are equally useful at family reunions.
In the end, choosing between them is like debating whether to buy a jetpack or a hammock. One lets you sear salmon at Mach 3; the other lets you sear salmon while napping. The universe is weird. Grill on, you maniac.
Can you smoke on a Weber Master Touch?
Let’s address the elephant—or perhaps the brisket—in the room. Can you smoke meat on a Weber Master Touch? The short answer: Yes, but it’s less “gentle wafts of hickory” and more “a determined game of culinary Tetris.” This iconic kettle grill wasn’t *designed* for smoking, but like a cat who thinks it’s a parrot, it’ll perch on the edge of its intended purpose with surprising enthusiasm. Just don’t expect it to write a memoir about it.
How to Turn Your Grill Into a Meat Sauna
To smoke on the Master Touch, you’ll need indirect heat, patience, and a willingness to ignore the grill’s confused aura. Arrange charcoal in a “snake method” (a.k.a. the slow-burn conga line), add wood chips, and let the lid’s vent do the airflow tango. It’s like convincing your grill to become a yoga instructor—subtle, meditative, and occasionally prone to flare-ups of existential doubt.
Pro Tips (or How to Avoid Summoning Smoke Demons)
- Channel your inner squirrel: Stockpile wood chips like they’re acorns before winter.
- Bribe the temperature gods: A drip pan with water = fewer fiery tantrums.
- Embrace the janky aesthetic: Your setup will look like a Rube Goldberg machine. This is normal.
Weber’s official stance? *“It’s a grill!”* But let’s be real—humans have used sticks and rocks to make fire, so smoking on a Master Touch is basically technological progress. Just don’t try to smoke actual cigars on it. The manual is *very* clear about that. (RIP, Steve’s “grill-friendly stogie” experiment, 2022.)
Will it rival a $1,500 offset smoker? No. But neither will your neighbor’s ukulele cover of *Freebird*. The Master Touch is the Swiss Army knife of grills: it’ll slice, dice, and smoke, even if it’s technically “just a kettle.” Now go forth, and may your meat be smoky, your vents be strategic, and your spouse’s confusion be eternal. 🥩🔥
Why are Weber’s so expensive?
Because they’re basically the Tesla of grills (but with more smoke)
Let’s face it: Weber grills aren’t just cooking devices—they’re over-engineered steel beasts that laugh in the face of a $20 supermarket charcoal tray. You’re not just paying for a grill. You’re funding a space program for meat. The stainless steel, cast-iron grates, and enamel coatings aren’t materials; they’re a VIP pass to Flavortown, hand-delivered by Guy Fieri’s ghost.
They’re built to survive the apocalypse (or your in-laws)
Weber grills are priced like they’ve already factored in 2029’s zombie uprising. These things are indestructible. Drop one from a helicopter? It’ll land perfectly seared. Leave it outside for a decade? It’ll just shrug and ask, “Is that all you’ve got?” The warranty alone suggests Weber’s lawyers are betting you’ll die before the grill does.
- Science: Each bolt is tightened by a team of engineers who also build roller coasters.
- Magic: The “one-touch cleaning system” probably involves a tiny wizard inside the ash catcher.
- Guilt: That price tag? It’s 30% grill, 70% reminding you to “stop burning hot dogs like a caveman.”
You’re buying a cult (with better snacks)
Weber isn’t selling grills—they’re selling a lifestyle. A $20 grill whispers, “I cook.” A Weber roars, “I brine.” The brand’s so iconic, it’s basically the Mona Lisa of backyards. Plus, every accessory (looking at you, $100 grill brush) is a membership fee to an exclusive club where your neighbors judge you silently for owning a “lesser” grill.
In short, Weber’s cost isn’t about the metal. It’s about eternal grill dominance. And honestly, can you put a price on the smug satisfaction of knowing your burger will outclass every other patio cookout in a 10-mile radius? (Spoiler: Yes. It’s $1,499.)
