The Billionaire’s Grill: Why the World’s Most Discerning Palates Are Embracing the ‘Barbecue Plus One’

The scent of sizzling fat on hot coals, the sharp tang of sun cream, the quiet hum of a lavender hedge in the English countryside. That was the air in Dorset this summer, and it was intoxicating. But among the pebble beaches of West Bay and the gardens of Devon, a quiet revolution in culinary minimalism was taking place. It wasn’t about truffles or vintage Champagne. It was about a single, brilliant idea: the barbecue plus one.

Borrowed from an Australian friend—a woman who once faced the chaos of feeding a houseful of hungry children with a dozen compromises and zero gratitude—the concept is ruthlessly simple. One item on the grill. One enormous bowl of something else. That’s it. No endless platters. No sweating over multiple courses. Just one perfect thing from the fire and one monumental dish. The friend’s epiphany came after a particularly disastrous afternoon. She made everything, and no one was happy. Standing over the sink, she swore: next time, it’s one or two things on the barbecue, plus the biggest bowl in the house, filled with one substantial dish. And it worked.

Now, this isn’t just a clever hack for busy parents. It’s a philosophy of wealth, taste, and effortless hospitality. Think about it. The ultra-wealthy don’t entertain by showing off how many things they can put on a table. They entertain by showing off how little they need to. The barbecue plus one is the gastronomic equivalent of a perfectly tailored cashmere sweater: simple, expensive-looking, and deeply personal. The “one” on the grill could be marinated lamb, barbecued carrots, or halloumi. The “plus one” could be a jollof rice so rich with umami and spice that it steals the show. Nigerian chef Aji Akokomi’s version—basmati rice, curry, thyme, ginger, red peppers, fish sauce, and a crispy, toasty layer at the bottom of the pot—is a masterpiece. It’s the kind of dish that makes you pause, fork halfway to your mouth, and say, as Kate Young wrote after reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s *Americanah*, “This is pretty good.” But we all know it’s more than that.

Then there’s Claudia Roden’s batinjan bil rumman wal laban: grilled aubergine on a bed of yoghurt and tahini, scattered with pomegranate seeds. It’s a dish that whispers of ancient souks and sun-drenched terraces. Rukmini Iyer’s quick traybake version—roast aubergines, chickpeas, pomegranate—is equally dazzling. And let’s not forget the humble coleslaw. Felicity Cloake has strong opinions about it, and she’s right. Done well, it’s a symphony of crunch and cream. Done poorly, it’s a tragedy. The point is, the “plus one” isn’t a side dish. It’s the star. The grill is just its supporting actor.

What does this say about the luxury market? It says that the new status symbol isn’t the size of your grill or the rarity of your steak. It’s the depth of your single bowl. It’s the ability to feed a crowd without breaking a sweat, to let one dish speak for itself. It’s the quiet confidence of knowing that a perfectly executed jollof rice, a roasted aubergine with tahini, or a Greek salad with Lebanese cucumbers and meaty olives is worth more than a dozen mediocre courses. This is the kind of entertaining that billionaires pay for: not excess, but essence.

As summer fades and the coals cool, the barbecue plus one is a lesson for all seasons. It’s a reminder that the best hospitality is the kind that looks effortless because it is. So next time you’re hosting, resist the urge to overcomplicate. Light the grill. Pick one thing. Then fill the biggest bowl you own with something extraordinary. The rest is just the sound of laughter, the scent of lavender, and the knowledge that less, when done right, is always more.