The Griddle Crew Throwdown has always been one of the highlights of the Blackstone Social Summit, but this year Blackstone changed the format completely. From cornhole and cup flipping to rotating cooks every two minutes, the new competition tested much more than what we could make on a griddle.

One of the things I look forward to most at the Blackstone Social Summit is the Griddle Crew Throwdown.

There is something uniquely fun—and slightly chaotic—about putting a bunch of people who love cooking on Blackstones into a competition, giving them limited ingredients and limited time, and seeing what happens.

This year, though, the Throwdown was very different from what we had experienced in the past.

And I thought it was better because of it.

Instead of simply showing up and cooking, the competition started hours before anyone put food on a griddle. Blackstone created a series of team challenges that determined our starting positions for the actual cook.

Then, once cooking began, they introduced another wrinkle: even though each team had seven or eight Griddle Crew members, only two people could touch the griddle at a time—and those two cooks had to rotate out every two minutes.

It turned the Throwdown into a combination of cooking competition, relay race, strategy game, and controlled chaos.

And it was an absolute blast.

Assigned Teams Changed the Dynamic

We did not choose our own teams.

Blackstone assigned everyone to groups of approximately seven or eight Griddle Crew members.

When you are placed with people rather than choosing your group, you have to figure out very quickly how everyone works together. Different people bring different cooking styles, strengths, personalities, and ideas.

And before we ever started cooking together, we had to prove ourselves as a team through a series of games.

Challenge #1: Cornhole—and Finding the Loophole

The first competition was cornhole.

Each team had its own board and three beanbags. We lined up, and when the clock started, team members took turns throwing.

The scoring was standard:

• 1 point for a bag that landed on the board
• 3 points for a bag that went through the hole

We had approximately two minutes to accumulate as many points as possible.

Pretty straightforward.

Except our team noticed something.

Nobody had said we had to throw the bags one at a time.

They only told us that each person had to take a turn throwing the three bags.

So we found our loophole.

Instead of carefully throwing three individual bags, each person grabbed all three and tossed them at the same time.

Was it elegant?

No.

Was it effective?

Absolutely.

Throwing all three together meant we could cycle through our team much faster, and we were almost guaranteed to get several bags onto the board with every toss. Every once in a while, one would even find its way into the hole.

We kept firing three-bag volleys until time expired.

The strategy worked well enough to earn us second place in the cornhole challenge.

I am still proud of that one.

Sometimes competition cooking begins with knife skills.

Apparently, sometimes it begins with exploiting ambiguously written cornhole rules.

Challenge #2: Flip the Cups

Next came a cup-flipping challenge.

This time, one representative from each team stood at a table lined with plastic cups. The goal was simple: flip each cup from the edge of the table until it landed correctly.

First team finished, first place.

Then second, third, and so on.

We again finished somewhere near the front of the pack—I believe second or third.

There was no food involved yet, but by this point everyone was completely invested.

Every place mattered because we knew these games were ultimately going to affect the cooking competition.

Challenge #3: Arcade Basketball

The final game was one of those arcade-style basketball setups.

Teams lined up behind their basket.

Each person stepped forward, took two shots, and immediately ran to the back of the line. The next teammate stepped up and did the same thing.

Two shots.

Rotate.

Two shots.

Rotate.

And keep moving for two minutes.

At the end, the number of made baskets determined the rankings for that challenge.

Once the scores from all of the games were calculated, our team finished fourth overall out of ten teams.

That became very important.

Because fourth place meant we got the fourth starting position in the Throwdown.

The Games Determined Who Got to Cook First

Rather than having all ten teams begin cooking simultaneously, Blackstone staggered the starts.

Team 1 began first.

Two minutes later, Team 2 started.

Two minutes after that, Team 3.

Then us.

And the process continued until every team was cooking.

So those goofy games from earlier in the day suddenly had very real consequences. Finishing fourth gave us a significant head start over more than half of the field.

But that was only the beginning of the strategy.

Two Cooks. Two Minutes. Then Get Out.

Each team had seven or eight members.

Each team had one Blackstone griddle.

Obviously, eight people trying to cook on one griddle simultaneously would have been ridiculous.

So Blackstone created one of my favorite rules of the competition:

Only two team members could cook at a time.

Those two people had exactly two minutes.

Then time was called.

Both cooks had to step away from the griddle and two new teammates stepped in.

And there was another important rule:

You could not cook in consecutive rounds.

So if I cooked during one two-minute rotation, I had to sit out the next one before I could return.

We continued rotating like this throughout the entire 30-minute cook.

That changed everything.

Cooking Became a Relay Race

Normally, when you are cooking something, you make small decisions continuously.

You notice the onions need to be stirred.

You adjust the heat.

You check the meat.

You flip something because it looks ready.

In this competition, you might notice all of those things while standing three feet away—and you were not allowed to touch anything.

All you could do was coach.

So while two teammates were actively cooking, everyone else could watch, communicate, and prepare for the next rotation.

When your two minutes came around, you needed to step in already knowing what you were going to accomplish.

Maybe your job was:

“Get the vegetables moving, check the rice, and rotate the tortillas.”

Two minutes later:

“Hands off.”

The next pair stepped in and continued the plan.

That made communication every bit as important as cooking ability.

Eight talented cooks all independently trying to make decisions would have been a disaster. We needed one shared plan.

Then Came the Ingredient Grab

The ingredients added another level of unpredictability.

Blackstone had a large ingredient table available, and teams sent representatives to grab the additional items they wanted.

But the proteins were handled differently.

Protein selection happened according to the rankings we had earned earlier.

Team 1 picked first.

Then Team 2.

Then Team 3.

We picked fourth.

By the time it was our turn, one of the available proteins that caught our attention was lump crab meat.

We grabbed it.

And fairly quickly, our idea started coming together:

Cajun Crab Tacos

Crab.

Vegetables.

Rice.

Tortillas.

Cajun flavors.

A sauce created by one of our teammates.

Garlic.

Butter.

It sounded good.

More importantly, it was achievable within the strange format we had been given.

Our Biggest Challenge Was Actually Not Cooking Fast

You might assume that a 30-minute cooking competition with two-minute cook rotations would be about moving as fast as humanly possible.

For our dish, it really wasn’t.

Almost everything we were making cooked quickly.

The crab needed only a brief warm-up.

The tortillas needed very little time.

The rice was already cooked and simply needed to be heated on the griddle.

The vegetables took the longest, so we got those going early.

Our real challenge was timing.

We did not want the finished tacos sitting around for ten minutes while the clock ran out.

We wanted everything to reach its peak at approximately the same time.

That meant a lot of our early rotations were about preparation rather than frantic cooking.

Get the vegetables started.

Organize ingredients.

Heat the rice.

Prepare the sauce.

Stage the tortillas.

Decide exactly when the crab should hit the griddle.

The 30 minutes became a countdown toward the moment everything needed to come together.

Saving the Crab for Last

The crab was the star of the taco, and we knew it did not need much time on the Blackstone.

So we waited.

Near the end of the cook, we put a generous amount of butter onto the hot griddle.

Once it melted, we added garlic paste.

Then the lump crab went down into the garlic butter.

We were not trying to aggressively fry or sear it.

It basically needed to kiss the hot griddle.

Just enough time to warm through, absorb some of that butter and garlic flavor, and come off before it dried out.

That was it.

Sometimes the hardest thing to do during a competition is leave something alone.

You feel like you should constantly be cooking, stirring, flipping, or adding something because the clock is ticking.

But delicate ingredients do not care that you are in a competition.

Overcooked crab is still overcooked crab.

Building the Cajun Crab Taco

Once all of the components were ready, everything came together quickly.

Our tacos included:

• Warm tortillas
• Seasoned vegetables
• Heated rice
• Garlic-butter crab
• Cajun seasoning
• A sauce made by one of our teammates

The final dish had a lot going on without becoming overly complicated.

The rice and vegetables gave the taco some substance.

The sauce helped tie everything together.

And the garlic-butter crab remained the star.

We were able to taste the finished product ourselves, and I thought it was really good.

I felt like we turned in a strong dish.

Did We Win?

Nope.

And that is part of cooking competitions.

You can execute your plan, make something you are proud of, taste it and genuinely believe it turned out great—and another team can still make something the judges like better.

That does not make the experience any less worthwhile.

For me, the Throwdown has always been as much about the challenge and camaraderie as the final placement.

And this year’s format made that especially true.

Why I Liked This Year’s Format So Much

Of all the Throwdowns I have participated in, I thought this year’s structure was especially well thought out.

The games at the beginning were not just filler. They affected the competition by determining both protein-selection order and starting positions.

The staggered starts rewarded teams for performing well earlier in the day.

The two-person cooking limit prevented eight people from crowding around one griddle.

The mandatory rotations made sure multiple team members actually participated.

And preventing someone from cooking in back-to-back rounds stopped a team from simply identifying its two strongest cooks and letting them take over the entire challenge.

Everyone had to contribute.

It felt organized.

It felt fair.

And most importantly, it was fun.

Five Things the Throwdown Reinforced for Me

1. A team needs a plan before it needs speed

Moving quickly does not help if everyone is moving in different directions.

We were much more successful when each two-person rotation knew exactly what needed to happen before stepping up to the griddle.

2. Mise en place matters

Thirty minutes disappears quickly.

Having ingredients organized, chopped, staged, and ready allowed each cooking pair to maximize its two-minute window.

3. Cook according to the ingredient—not the clock

The crab was a perfect example.

Putting it on early simply because we had time would have ruined it. We waited until the dish actually needed it.

4. Communication is a cooking skill

When six people are watching and only two can touch the food, communicating clearly becomes essential.

The people standing behind the cooks were still part of the cook.

5. Sometimes the loophole is part of the strategy

I am absolutely counting the three-beanbag cornhole toss as a lesson.

Read the rules.

Understand the rules.

And if the rules never specifically say you cannot throw three beanbags simultaneously…

Well…

I’m just saying.

More Than a Cooking Competition

The thing I enjoy most about the Griddle Crew Throwdown is that it captures a lot of what makes the Blackstone community fun.

Yes, everyone wants to make a great dish.

Yes, there is competition.

Yes, there is pressure.

But there is also laughter, teamwork, creativity, ridiculous moments, and a group of people trying to figure something out together around a hot piece of steel.

For 30 minutes, you are completely focused.

Somebody is calling time.

Two people are jumping away from the griddle.

Two more are jumping in.

Someone is yelling about tortillas.

Someone else is watching the vegetables.

Another teammate is telling you the crab absolutely does not need to go down yet.

And somehow, at the end of all of it, there is a finished plate sitting on the table.

That is the Griddle Crew Throwdown.

Final Thoughts

We did not bring home the win this year.

But I walked away thinking this may have been my favorite Throwdown format yet.

The games made the entire day feel connected. The team assignments pushed us to collaborate with different people. The staggered start added stakes to the earlier challenges. And the two-minute cooking rotations turned a normal griddle competition into something completely different.

Our Cajun crab tacos came together exactly the way we hoped: warm tortillas, vegetables, rice, sauce, Cajun flavor, and lump crab barely warmed in garlic butter on the Blackstone.

I would happily eat them again.

And I would absolutely do the Throwdown again.

Although next year, Blackstone may want to be a little more specific about how many cornhole bags we’re allowed to throw at once.

We’ve already proven we read the fine print. 😂🔥