Cooking in the West

As I sit here today on Father's Day, I find it hard to believe that my father would have turned 102 this July. He has been gone for 24 years, but he still lives large in my memory. He was one of those people with the classic cowboy look, and that look landed him on the front of the Montana map tipping his hat during the 80's. During that time, he would be approached by tourists to have him sign their maps. The name of the photographer was identified as Harley Hettick, so when he would sign Glen Roberts, they would question if he was the right guy. We began jokingly calling him Harley Hettick, so he considered just signing Harley Hettick to avoid lengthy explanations.

My dad was a God fearing Christian man, but he spoke in the cowboy vernacular. He was 40 years old when I was born, because he just did not get around to having a family until he had done 40 years of living. Sometimes I feel cheated out of time with him because of that decision he made to postpone fatherhood, which was not as fashionable then as it is now. Nevertheless, both my sister Jane and I claim that we grew up thinking our names were D--- it. We grew up on Sun Canyon Lodge, a guest ranch out of Augusta, Montana, so we didn't see him much from mid-June until the end of hunting season, because he pretty much lived in the Bob Marshall Wilderness during that time of year. When he would be home, of course we were always underfoot. It became a big joke that the only communication we had with him for six months of the year was when he would say, "Get out of the way, d--- it."

As soon as he decided I was old enough, he started taking me on pack trips where he tried to teach me everything from camp cooking to throwing a diamond hitch. I cannot throw a diamond hitch, but I do adhere to his philosophy on camp cooking, which was, "When it is brown it's cooking; when it's black, it's done, d--- it."

One time when I was 12, he and I had dropped camp and were coming empty out of Pretty Prairie on the South Fork of the Sun River. He pulled his horse up and said, "I've got to take a couple dynamite pills (which is what he called his nitroglycerin tablets for his heart condition), because there's an elephant sitting on my chest." The dynamite pills must have worked, because after 20 long minutes of lying beside the trail, he sat up and announced that we were going on to Klick's K Bar L Ranch. I left him at the head of Gibson Lake with Dick Klick, who would take him by boat and truck down to our ranch.

I had 14 miles to go, so the string and I started trotting around corners and loping on the straight stretches. That speed is hard on the pigtails that hold a pack string together. Finally I got tired of fixing popped pigtails, so I just tied up all the halter ropes, got in the front, and stayed there. When we reached the ranch gate, I fixed all the pigtails, so I could ride in properly. It was drizzling, so I was wearing a poncho rain slicker that spooked my horse when I tried to swing my leg over him. He threw a fit, and I would have fallen off except the poncho was stuck over the saddle horn. Since he couldn't get rid of me and he was pretty tired, he gave up and let me get seated again, but of course my string had gone on to the barn without me. Dad was being helped into a van for a ride to the hospital when I rode up. He said, "It's customary to lead your string in, d--- it!" Coming from him, I understood that to be loosely translated as, "I am so glad you made it. I am proud of you."

My father and mother bickered constantly. It was mostly a form of recreation for them, and they rarely missed an opportunity to dig at each other. One time, my sister Jane had Dad loaded in the bucket of one of those turned around Farmhand loaders. She was lifting him up so he could do some work on a shed roof, but she got the loader in the wrong gear and ran into the shed. He calmly stepped up on top of the shed after his wild ride in the bucket, looked down at her, and said, "D--- it, you drive just like your mother!"

In his later years, Dad loved driving his Percheron-cross buckskins, Buck and Ginger, which he bought as weanlings. By the time they were two, they were ready to be hitched to the wagon. Mother watched our preparations for their first hitch and lent support with phrases like, "Those horses are going to kill all three of you!"

Nevertheless, Dad pointed the wagon uphill, put me in the wagon with a trip rope on Buck, and Jane snubbed Ginger to her saddle horse. Dad let the brake off and clucked. The wagon rolled and rumbled, and the colts sprang forward in a two turbo horsepower lunge. I tripped Buck as Jane jerked Ginger up short.

Dad calmly explained that we would have to let them go a little bit. We nodded, so he tried it again. I tripped Buck, Jane jerked Ginger up, and Dad sputtered, "D--- it, you two knuckleheads have to let them go a little or we will never get out of sight of the old lady!"

We buried my dad on the family ranch up the coulee from the log house he built just two miles from the one room sod roofed cabin where he was born in 1919 eleven miles southeast of Musselshell, Montana. I like to think he is still watching out for us. I only have 37 years worth of memories of him, but I cherish them. If your father is still alive, I hope you skipped the ties and cordless drills and went out and made memories together!

If you love to cook outdoors, here are some fun ideas to try with either a campfire or charcoal.

Cedar Plank Salmon:

2 lbs. fresh salmon fillets

1 C. sour cream

1/2 C. melted butter

4 cloves pressed garlic

Alpine Touch or other seasoned salt to taste

dill to taste (optional)

Don't buy expensive cedar planks in the barbecue aisle. Go to your local hardware store and ask if they will give you some scrap cedar to make planks that will fit the size of your barbecue. Soak the planks in water for several hours. You may have to weigh them down with cans from the pantry. Skin the salmon with a sharp knife and place on the soaked board. Mix the sour cream, melted butter, pressed garlic, seasoned salt, and dill together and spread on top of the salmon. Cook over medium hot grill until salmon flakes (approximately 20 minutes). Do not turn it, but you may tent it loosely with foil. The board will char, which gives the smoked flavor. Note: For a sweet teriyaki salmon glaze, mix brown sugar with soy sauce until it is "spreadable". Marinate the salmon in this mixture, and then baste it over the salmon filets on the plank as it cooks.

Dutch Oven Parmesan Potatoes:

3 lbs. red potatoes, scrubbed and chopped bite sized

1/2 C. melted butter

several cloves of pressed garlic to taste

2/3 C. Parmesan cheese, divided

seasoned salt to taste

parsley flakes (optional)

Melt butter in a 12 inch Dutch oven or 9 X 13 baking pan. Coat chopped potatoes with butter. Mix 1/3 C. cheese, garlic, and seasoning and stir into potatoes. Cook in the oven for one hour at 350 degrees. Just before serving, top with shredded Parmesan or other cheese of your choice. To cook outside with briquettes and a 12 inch Dutch oven, arrange 8 coals on the bottom and 17 on the top. Cook for 45 minutes to an hour, rotating the lid and oven every 15 minutes.

Lazy Dutch Oven Cobbler:

1 large and one regular sized can of sliced peaches with syrup

1 pkg. yellow or white cake mix

ground cinnamon and nutmeg to taste

1.5 sticks butter

In a 12 inch Dutch oven, dump peaches in the bottom. Sprinkle liberally with cinnamon and nutmeg. Pour dry cake mix over top of peaches and spices. Cut 1.5 sticks of butter into pats and dot them on top of the cake mix. Bake in the Dutch oven with 15 coals on the bottom and 10 on the top for about 45 minutes or until done. Remember to rotate the oven and lid every 15 minutes. Serve warm with fresh whipped cream. If you want to bake it in the range oven, use a 9 X 13 pan and bake at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes.