Push the button, a spark ignites and a gentle poof sounds as the burner catches flame.

And in an instant, another chapter in the life of a newly married man is opened — grill master.

The title is a bit presumptive, OK, greatly presumptive, but it’s a bit like the Jedi equivalent to the modern American domesticated world.

So after shopping around at all the local “grill suppliers” over the last few weeks we settled on a three-burner model — which is at the moment approximately two burners more than necessary.

But the rationale for the larger grill is that it’s a little like buying a bicycle that’s a bit too big for a growing child.

You just have to trust that in time the pedals can be reached.

In no time, hopefully, all the burners will be wielded with deft control. Until then, this grill master needs the equivalent of training wheels.

The first “test” was a couple of hot dogs on Friday night.

After the grill heated up, memories of a childhood of hotdogs and hamburgers grilled in the backyard came bubbling back.

Grilling was just about the only time my Dad ever cooked anything. And that’s probably because a few of his non-grilling attempts went bad.

My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I recall his efforts to make mashed potatoes once when my mom was away on a church trip.

The potatoes wound up containing too much liquid. Dad had the fix: add cornstarch to it to thicken them up.

It worked; the potatoes were thicker, but nastier too. None of us ate it and Dad’s cooking from then on out was always powered by propane — and usually involved large hunks of meat.

So perhaps it was genetics when I felt the urge to join the grilling nation.

Friday’s inauguration went fairly well.

While the result was not the greatest hotdog ever created, they tasted fine and tasted like grilled hotdogs — one test down, a lifetime of grilling ahead.

As of Saturday, Julie and I both appeared to continue to be in good health, so the hotdogs apparently didn’t harm us — yet.

The grill purchase is the latest example of “guy stuff” that had to be acquired over the last few months.

Up until the grill, however, the others were motorized with two-cycle engines.

And those are cool things by themselves. Loud, smoking, snarling machines that cut, destroy or push things around.

(Insert grunting sounds popularized on the old “Home Improvement” TV show)

The grill takes a different angle on keeping the masculine attention.

It’s not particularly noisy and, at least not so far.

It’s not quick to destroy things — ask me again in a few weeks after I’ve probably burned a few things.

But what it lacks in sheer man points, the grill makes up for in open flames. Nothing says, “There’s a guy cooking” more than a big bottle of propane and open flames.

Like father like son. Now where did we put the cornstarch?

Kevin Cooper is publisher of The Natchez Democrat. He can be reached at 601-445-3539 or kevin.cooper@natchezdemocrat.com.