I have had some pretty interesting experiences cooking in the wild. To be more precise I used to go camping with twelve year old Boy Scouts and their equally cooking-inept fathers. We did manage to copyright some new culinary masterpieces during that time which includes the now famous (in small circles) “Camp Five Stir Fry.”
CFSF is powerful spicy. So spicy in fact that it once sent unsuspecting young campers into arm waving, bug eyed screaming frenzies that nearly destroyed the entire contents of our campsite.
Those were the days. We used to be fond of making seemingly complex things like Cornish game hens on a spit or French omelets (not on a spit) just to show off a little and to see the pained expressions on the faces of the other campers who would be eating some sort of glue stuck to aluminum foil. I think it was good for their character or something like that.
Don’t hate me for teaching a valuable life lesson though, once I had thoroughly convinced them of their lack of skills and the (delicious) benefits of actually having skills, I was able to teach the majority to fend for themselves quite well. They were no longer Mama’s boys (soon to be Mama’s men) but moderately competent little cooks who could produce three meals a day and cake for desert over a small camp stove with no input from me or anyone else.
Someday I will have to tell you the tale about the boy who only ate meat.
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