Camp Cooking

 

                The first spring Mark and I were together, we took a road trip out to central Oregon. It was his first time traveling in the Ark and our first out of town adventure.  We stopped at the obsidian flow outside of Bend and the guide told us to turn onto to China Hat road, which loops around Paulina Crater. It passes several ice and lava caves and then turns gravel, with lots of free dispersed camping. Free being a very good price, we headed out. After exploring the caves, we found a non-descript pulling off place for the night and I made dinner. Tomatoes, onions, elbow pasta on the two burner stove. Nothing exciting. But, when I handed the plates out to Mark, he was impressed. Real food on the road. I could get used to this, he thought. Friday night, he stood watching me make the same basic meal while we were camping on the Metolious river. “This was our first camping meal,” he observed. The charm has not faded.

                Saturday evening, we were having beans, farls, and steamed broccoli and green beans. Farls are a simple biscuit made with flour, baking soda, and soured milk, perfect foils for beans or honey. It is a preferred car camping food.  Usually, the dough is pretty stiff, like a scone, and I cook them in triangle shaped pieces, one side, then the other, then, like Stonehenge monuments, on their edges. It’s fun. This time, I messed up the recipe and added twice as much milk; the result was almost as runny as a pancake. What to do? It’s not like we have extra dinners tucked away in the van’s kitchen… I turned the heat down on the stove, poured the batter in, and hoped for the best.  The creation bubbled like a pancake. When the bubbles held open, I slipped my hands and spatula under it, flipped it over, and kept cooking. It worked.  It might have been better than usual.

Early September

     

The beginning of September is always a bit stressful. Summer is closing down while school is ramping up and it requires perfect timing to navigate the transition successfully. If I want to survive the first week of teaching, the week before I must complete more than three quarters of the following list: clean the house, find my school clothes and shoes, clean up the garden, prep food for breakfast, get ahead on the canning, finish the house projects and put everything away, finish the long novel I have been reading, do a big food shop, and make a serious food plan for the week. It helps to save time to stare into space and take a few long walks. This year, I made it through half of the list. Add a bunch of new tech at school and coming home to an exploded coffee pot (Mark forgot a part…) that sent coffee grounds and water everywhere, and I was DONE on Friday afternoon.

Sunday morning, we had a morning fire, a lovely fall ritual that evokes camping without leaving home. I start a fire in the chiminea we have set in the heart of the garden, using the fallen branches and fig cuttings. Then I leave Mark and the cat to keep an eye on it while I make breakfast. Fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, the last slices of apple bread, tea. We eat, read the New York Times, listen to the chickens rustle in the leaves under the hazelnut tree, and move the cat from lap to lap. OSU has not started yet, so the streets are quiet. The air is cool, the sun just rising into the space, the morning glories are blooming on the trellises. The world is peaceful.

Next year, I think, I’ll get it all done before school starts.