Cooking in the West

This week my heart goes out to those affected by the wildfires burning across our state. When a plume of smoke rises, my heart begins to pound. I have evacuated from six fires and three floods, so I know the indescribable feeling of fear and helplessness natural disasters evoke. The good part is that years later, I can look back on those experiences and see the bright side.

We have had four large fires burn through our Musselshell ranch, and we have evacuated twice from our Big Timber ranch. We have lost buildings, pasture, and fences, but thankfully we never experienced loss of livestock. My heart breaks for those who have lost homes and livestock, and I hope that if you are able, you will reach out to help those who have experienced loss, because knowing that people cared was the only thing that helped us survive those fires.

Our son Bret was just five the first time we evacuated from the Black Butte Fire in 1993. His biggest concern was that his kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Kinsey, was never going to believe he had been “vaccinated”. It was a Friday night, and Remi had gone to referee a basketball game in Reed Point. The kids and I stayed home and watched the smoke plume grow angrier and closer. About dark, we received an evacuation call from the sheriff’s office.

This was our first evacuation, so I absolutely panicked. I called everyone I could think of, which was very unnecessary, because neighbors, friends, and complete strangers began to show up with pick-ups and trailers. I had gathered up our two empty boxes (shoe boxes of course) and packed them with valuables such as a mood ring, my senior key, elk ivories, and a napkin from the prom.

About 20 people congregated in the living room of the single wide trailer we lived in at the time. They were all looking at me for directions, and I had no idea where to start. They seemed to sense that I was incapable of making a decision, so they began hauling things out. Fortunately, I was not paralyzed with fear, but rather it gave me super strength. I remember helping one of my teaching colleagues, Mike Smith, carry a full four drawer file cabinet to the pickup. When we unloaded it, I could not begin to lift my share of it without all that adrenalin pumping.

We found garbage bags and started stuffing them with smaller stuff. I did not know our Bridger Creek neighbor, Rusty Terland, very well, but when he started packing my underwear drawer, I remember shouting (because everyone shouts in an evacuation), “Oh, I’ll get those. Do you want to roll my good dishes in bed sheets, and we will put them in double bags?”

The volunteers in the kitchen had it the worst. They had to make life or death decisions about things like what to do with a cupboard full of empty butter cartons and Cool Whip containers. Should they try to save them or adopt a “Let It Burn” policy? Our evacuators were undaunted. While the fire raged down Lower Deer Creek, they stood entrenched and packed everything that would have a garage sale value over 5 cents.

We had sprinklers going on the roof so everyone got soaked as they packed stuff out the door. We threw wildly packed loads on flatbed trailers and tied it on with baling twine and granny knots. I endangered two of my good friends, Judy Vidack and Helen Sivertsen, when I didn’t think twice when they volunteered to ride on the flatbeds trying to hold things on by hand. I cannot believe that neither of them bounced off in the ditch in the dark. Our dining room table ended up skidding down the road, which resulted in having some pea gravel embedded in it. It was a conversation piece for years until it was finally retired to Goodwill.

Remi and his refereeing partner, Jim Stephens, had returned from refereeing and headed up the creek to check out the progress of the fire. They ended up having to race the fire to a blackened safe space and wait for the fire to burn across the drainage, as it was moving about 60 miles per hour fueled by its own wind. By the time they came down the creek from that harrowing experience, the house was completely emptied.

In the end the wind switched, and our place was spared. The gratitude we felt for the volunteers could not be put into words. I do not recommend “vaccination”, but it was a good downsizing and decluttering experience.

The Burnt Shed Fire in 1998 was our first big fire on the Musselshell Ranch. Fortunately, the main ranch house did not burn, so we began cooking for the fire fighters. The fire boss asked me if he should bring in a kitchen, but I assured him we would be fine, as we had fed about 50 firefighters for breakfast. That was not a very enlightened decision, because by lunch time, we had to feed 125 firefighters.

My whole family and a lot of friends pitched in and cooked 9000 calorie meals per day for 125 firefighters for four days. We definitely needed a bigger house. Fortunately the state sent us Jerry Buhre, who taught us how to prepare stew in a 30 gallon tub, get hot meals to the fire line in the helicopter, and talk fire talk, which goes like this:

Jerry: Strike Team Two will be released for dinner at 1800 hours. They are mopping up two chains and will be in.

Me: What does that mean?

Jerry: Cook faster!

Me: I can’t, because the stove won’t come on.

Jerry: Sorry, we have prepared the structure to burn. We had to remove the propane tank.

Me: Affirmative. We will have dinner ready at 1800 hours TOMORROW!

Each day we ordered truckloads of groceries and 375 gallons of Gatorade. On the last day when the weary owner of Picchionni’s IGA was helping me load the last of his stock of Gatorade, he said, “Wouldn’t it be cheaper to put the fire out with water?”

That fire ended with 2.5 inches of rain, which doused the fire and boosted regrowth of blessed grass in the burn, so we were able to pasture our cattle for the remainder of the season. Through all the devastation, the outpouring of love from friends, neighbors, volunteers, and the professional fire fighters is all that kept us sane. My colleagues at Big Timber Grade School organized a work weekend 170 miles away and pitched in for fencing supplies. I love to ride down the fence lines, because the names of the donors are still visible in faded Sharpie on the posts serving as a reminder that people are good when times are bad.

This week I have a recipe from a faithful reader, Anne Schenk, of Roundup, Montana, who shared an amazing biscuit recipe. I included a couple recipes that will sustain fire fighters also. Thanks, Anne!

Ann's Refrigerator Biscuits:

5.5 C. flour

3 T. sugar

3 t. baking powder

1 t. salt

3/4 C. shortening

1 pkg. yeast

1/2 C. warm water

2 C. milk

Dissolve yeast in warm water. Mix dry ingredients and cut in shortening. Add yeast mixture and milk. Mix well. Refrigerate at least four hours. This will keep in the fridge for two weeks! When ready to use, roll out and cut into biscuits. Let them set for about 20 minutes before baking at 400 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes. These are so handy, and they melt in your mouth!

Quick Burger Casserole:

2 lb. ground beef

medium onion, minced

6 C. Rice Krispies cereal

2 cans Chicken with Rice soup

2 cans Cream of Mushroom soup

Mix all ingredients in a 9 X 13 pan. Bake at 350 degrees for one hour.

Applesauce Cookies:

1 C. sugar

1 C. butter

1 egg

1 C. thick applesauce

2 heaping C. flour

1 t. baking powder

1 t. soda

1 t. cloves

1 t. cinnamon

1/2 t. salt

1/2 C. nuts

1 C. chopped dates or raisins

1/2 t. allspice

Cream butter and sugar. Add remaining ingredients, mixing well. Drop by a teaspoon on a greased cookie sheet. Bake at 300 degrees for 10 minutes.