Driving up the Oregon coast, lost in a reverie of broken stories and endless tumbleweeds, I worried. Blistering bites of seaweed trenched breezes intertwine with white polkadot clouds and blinding reflection. It’s cold, maybe 40. It’s June.
A lingering snide contempt wafts off the stoic huffs imparted by my captain. He’s been driving 1900 miles. He’s flustered, maybe exhausted. He’s trying emphatically to bite his tongue as I doze off to sleep.
But the mood was fitting. A sun storm soaked Pacific Northwest coddled a bittersweet car ride (to buy towels from a preposterously overpriced surf shop). We were wet and cold, remember?
“Oooo, do you smell that? Hot chocolate sounds nice”. A precarious glare from my overtired and underfed husband. “Perhaps something a bit stronger?”
I’ve had cravings long before I was pregnant. I lived my life by way of sensual scents that strewn by my ever detecting nostrils. Not unlike the head bobbing whiffs and sniffs of a waggly and chipper shih tzu hopping his way through a grassy field. Picture the sweet, incense like burn from a charred marshmallow; the crisp, bursted spew of citrus spiking you directly in the eye; the salted crust of a perfectly seared steak…
But cravings aren’t just imposed by perceptions of the snout. Memories, fanciful daydreams, fill an empty belly with promise of oysters caught right off the coast of Blaine, Washington at Drayton Harbor Oyster Company (served with bottomless glasses of crisp sauv blanc); or fresh cherries eaten on the banks of the Sleeping Bear Dunes as sandy toes mingle with the Lake Michigans’ soapy tide; or stuck timelessly in a black in white photo, reminiscing the flavor when you discovered Walla Walla wine. I assure you, I could go on.
But now, content as a write, perplexed by my initial feelings of resentment toward the frigid temperatures and spiting rain…I’m musing again of that ultra comforting experience that led to an unforgettable meal; a bubbling stew, permeating with crackling campfire heat. We cozied up, snuggled in blankets, (and the Cuban was soothed with internal warmth from his beloved scotch) I find myself longing for that under appreciated memoir again.
Next time your cold and camping make this – My riff on Spanish Fabada (pork and bean stew).
Takes 40 min; Makes really good memories
Ingredients for Stew
- 1 can of white gigante beans in juice
- 1 cup cooked ham
- 8oz kielbasa, sliced
- 1 green pepper, small dice
- 1/2 sweet onion, small dice
- 1-2 small carrots, small slice
- 2 bay leaves
- 2 tsp garlic powder
- 1 tsp onion powder
- 1 tsp dried oregano
- Salt (about 1 1/2 tbsp) and pepper to taste
- EVOO or Avocado oil
Method
Get your campfire roaring hot. Allow wood to crackle and burn for a while. When flames subside to a medium high prepare your cast iron skillet.
Combine onion, pepper, carrot, some salt & pepper and olive oil and place over the hot fire grate. Cook until the veggies are sweating and carrots are al dente (adding a bit more oil if needed). This should take about 10-15 min, depending on the heat of your fire. Make sure to watch it closely.
Add beans (in juice) and bay leaves. Cook for about 5 min and then add the garlic and onion powders and oregano. Stir.
Add the meats and cover. If you like it more brothy, add a cup of water. Cook 10 min.
Serve with bread for dunking.
Contempt gone and bellies full, we puddle jumped into a serene Oregon sunset.
What other fabulous things should I make while camping you ask??
