Campfire cooking
Accidents happen, learning the hard way
All that’s said in the kitchen should not be told in the hall” Old Scottish proverb
I really try not to get too wrapped around the axle about this SHTF business, but let’s just say the prediction prophets are correct and we find ourselves without electricity or gas to cook on before the end of this year. I figure just about anyone could bust up the kitchen chairs, or a coffee table, pile them in the back yard and cook something to keep the kids from eating their school paste.
What got me interested in campfire cooking was due in part to the nastiness going on in world and the actual possibility of Whitmer cutting off our gas or some deranged actor pulling the plug on the U.S. power grid. The second reason is last year I was cajoled into taking one of those DNA tests that everyone is doing. Turns out I’m 37% Scottish. That made me happy because Scottish people were a tough lot in their day with a rich history all their own. Anyone who could fight a battle wearing a skirt with no under drawers, in that climate, has got to be a tough guy! The Scots were fighters.
In a fun fact; turns out I’m 88% more Neanderthal than all the participants of this DNA site. Which means, somewhere in my ancient history my cousins dragged their knuckles and were very hairy. Ha, figures. Let’s hope they cooked their Antioch at least.
I do love anthropology and with the many SHTF issues smacking us in the face daily, I used my DNA findings as a starting place to zero in on my 17th century Scottish relatives and learned much about survival at a time far before the use of electricity. Kings and Queens and Lords and Ladies lived in mammoth stone castles and hosted lavish parties. Castles were but cold comfort one article stated, often reeking of rancid orders, lit only by candles, oil lamps and huge stone fireplaces. The floors were strewn with fragrant herbs and plants to offset some of the stench.
As I peeled back the generations of my own family history I soon came to realize my Scottish ancestors were important for being the farmers, laborers and support staff of the hierarchy, living in dirt floor dwellings close to the land. They were the grease that kept their society turning.
Oatcakes 1700's Scotland Oats were a mainstay for the Scottish natives as oats were about the only grain that would grow well in this harsh, wind swept environment. Often while traveling a Scottish lad carried with him a bag of oat groats. Groats are whole oats grains chopped into bits. He would take a handful of groats from his bag and place them in his cup and add a little water. Mix well and eat. The starch and protein from the oats kept the lad going on his journey until his next available meal.
4 ingredient Bannock Bannock should work well too in the dutch oven as in my previous article Adventures. I can’t wait to try this one. Looks yummy.
Cast iron cooking utensils and pots first made their appearance during the bronze age and of course are still used today having followed stone and ceramic cookware. Personally, I believe every household should have at the very least one cast iron cooking utensil. I have a love affair with my cast iron Dutch Oven and I was totally blown away when I learned the technology for the Dutch oven was originally developed by the Chinese some 2500 years ago. Why is it called a dutch oven?
Armed with a plan to test out my outdoor cooking skills with some new Scottish recipes, Hubby and I scheduled one last camping adventure before the snow descends on Upper Michigan which can be any time now. The middle of September is a perfect time. So we loaded up and headed out into the wilds of the Upper Peninsula forests pumped for adventure.
One thing we didn’t figured into our preps for a camping trip is; What happens if you have a mishap? We’ve never had anything other than a band aid wound while out in the woods. For sure, we have a small first aid kit with us at all times but what if the accident is well . . .
When we got to the campsite we both took a leisurely pace at setting up camp instead opting to enjoy a moment to breath in the warm fall aromas and the crunch of dry leaves under foot. But night was quickly approaching so work had yet to be done. It was time to unload the campfire wood we had brought with us as most places frown on cutting down trees that don’t belong to you.
Hubby had pushed the stack of firewood to the front of the back of the truck to make room for the coolers. So being the smaller one of the two of us it would be easier for me to climb in under the topper. Seeing it as helping I took it upon myself to do just that and climbed in the truck to bring the wood forward and set it on the tailgate. Our truck has overload springs for hauling so the back end is higher off the ground than a conventional 150 Ford pick up.
Having passed him all the wood I proceeded to climb out of the back of the truck while he was stacking the firewood, he had his back to me. I reached the tailgate and stuck my foot down searching for the footstool I had used to get into the truck.
Oooohh shiiiiiiit!!! A beautiful 3 point swan dive to the ground but instead of a splash I hit with a nasty thud. Even from 3 1/2 feet off the ground, that short distance knocked the wind out of me. I landed on my left side with my left arm tucked in forcing my fist into my old lady ribs.
Hubby turned around just in time to see me fall. He rushed over and just stared down at me where I lay on the ground momentarily stupefied by what he had just witnessed. ”Oh my god, are you ok? What can I do, what can I do?”, he whispered absolutely terrified. I rolled over on my back making it even harder to breathe. I threw up my hands indicating to help me up. He knew immediately what I wanted and gently helped me up and sat me down in a chair. I took a minute to do a self evaluation, while he hovered over me not knowing what to do next. The pain wasn’t too bad yet and I began breathing much better. I think I’m ok, I said with a little smile, giving him some relief. However, I would discover the real pain would sneak up and attack me a little later.
My whole purpose of this camping trip was to learn to cook food the way my ancient Scottish ancestors would have. I was mad at myself for such a stupid mistake, but determined to push ahead. Besides, what would someone in the medieval ages have done after an accident such as mine? Who would cook the meal for her family if they had been traveling with no one else around for many miles. Her family needed their meal.
In my conclusion, I surmised that ancient people were a little more careful in their daily activities. Call it a form of situational awareness if you will that most modern people do not possess. They would have been acutely aware that even a small mishap could leave the family with one less important member. A woman of my age would have gotten someone younger or at least someone to spot her or she would have found another way to retrieve the wood. She would not have risked an accident. Up until that day having an accident had not been in my situational awareness. Trust me, it is now! Possible accidents have now become an integral part of my programing, daily, hourly, minute by minute.
We did cut this camping trip short and headed for home but not without cooking the meals I so wanted to cook. It wasn’t the Scottish ancestor meal I was hoping for but I cooked dinner and breakfast the next morning. Did you know a 10 inch Dutch oven seems to weigh 200 pounds when you have a couple of cracked ribs?
3 to 6 weeks I should be good as new I was told. We are so very lucky to be living in an era of readily available products my ancient sisters would have given their left hind leg for. I added extra vitamin C and college to my morning protein smoothie. I seem to be healing pretty damn fast. I’m happy about that!
Lesson learned.
Until next time. . .