I grew up camping with my Dad on sandbars along the Mississippi River. We would pack up the flat-bottomed fishing boat with our canvas tent, fishing gear, the infamous beach radio sure to grace us with our share of Don Henley hits, and of course, plenty of food, beer, and sodas that had names like Grape. I can still remember what it was like to wake up in the cool fogginess of the morning, the sun poised to rise. As the aroma of breakfast lingered in the air, I would emerge from the tent ready to eat Dad's campfire creations. His menu was always very simple: Potatoes fried with butter and onions, over-easy eggs cooked in a cast iron skillet, and bread that had been toasted on a grate over the fire and spread with perfectly salted butter. Breakfast was one of my favorite parts about camping.
To this day, I love eating breakfast when I camp. On a recent afternoon while planning a camping adventure, a friend mentioned that she wanted to have chorizo and eggs for breakfast. As she talked about making guacamole and pico de gallo, I had to to encourage myself to be flexible. It was not that her breakfast did not sound spectacular, but more that it was not the breakfast that I've always connected with as camp breakfast. As we talked I realized how sweet it was that we both seemed identify with an idyllic version of camp breakfast. It was in this moment that I knew breakfast was going to be wonderful.
As I was assembling my plate that morning, incorporating every one's contribution to the heap, I reflected on the beauty of tradition and ritual that comes with an activity such as camping. There were three of us, and all of our visions were present. We had coffee with cream, my Dad's potatoes with fried eggs, tortillas with pico, guac, and chorizo picante, and mushrooms cooked in foil with butter and fresh parsley. There are no recipes to go with this post, but I will give you a little tip on Dad's potatoes: Pre-cook and slice them before you leave and also have your onions diced and ready to go. And most importantly, enjoy.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
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2 comments:
"...and sodas that had names like Grape"
Hilarious.
What ever happened to Black Cherry?
How fabulous, indeed!
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