Cooking in the West

The best job I ever had was working as a camp cook for Brett and Julie Todd of the K Lazy 3. This time of year I get very homesick for those mountain trips, but I also remember how difficult it could be at times. It was a truly fine and pleasant misery at times, but mostly it was an amazing experience that I feel lucky to have had.

The only job description I ever received was from Guy Gravert, one of the guides, who told me, "The cook rides in the back and gets two buckets of water when we get to camp." How hard can that be?

Well, one July day, I found myself happily riding up the trail in the back on a quirky horse--it seems that someone had skipped the rather important halter breaking stage on this particular horse. See, for some reason unknown to the cook, she gets whatever is left in the corral after the guests, the guides, and the outfitter have caught their horses. Anyway, I am off course, which is one of the reasons I was never promoted to guide status. . . Nevertheless, we were just a couple miles from camp on that hot afternoon when the woman two horses in front of me told me that she wasn't feeling very well. Worrying that I had probably poisoned her at lunch, I suggested that she take her polar fleece off and drink some water. She seemed refreshed after that quick stop, so I climbed back on my quirky horse. We had not taken two steps when she said, "I feel a little light headed." Two seconds later, I watched in horror as her head hit the tail head of her horse. She had fainted on her horse with her feet still in the stirrups. Fortunately, she was riding Max, who is amazingly bombproof, and he stopped dead in his tracks. As I launched myself off my horse all I could think of was that with all this deadfall and the rocky creek bed, she could not have picked a worse place to come off a horse in an unconscious state. To my astonishment, she was still flopped back over the horse's rump when I reached her.

In my best imitation of a calm voice, I screamed, "Brett!" a couple times hoping the outfitter, who was ten horses and quite a ways ahead because of our first stop, would hear me. When there was no answer, I decided I was on my own. I hauled her forward in the saddle. Her eyes were rolled back so only the whites were showing. I could feel a pulse, but I could not see nor feel her breathing. I was in full panic mode by now. The lady behind us was as white as a sheet, and she was apparently frozen in fear because she ignored my repeated, "Can you tell if she is breathing?" screeches.

So, I flopped the limp body backwards again and tried to feel breath. I was sure she was going to die. I jerked her upright once more, and just as I was bracing myself to try to haul her off her horse, she came to. She gave me the strangest look that conveyed, "What in the world are you doing?", but I was so relieved I didn't care if momentarily she thought I was some wilderness pervert. The whole incident probably took less than two minutes, but it was the longest two minutes of my life.

I make it a policy never to walk anywhere a good horse or even a quirky dude horse could carry me, but I was perfectly happy to walk her into camp leading my unhalterbroken horse, who was stepping on my heels one moment and jerking my arm out of the socket the next. I was just so happy we all arrived alive that I didn't even complain about my mount--much.

A few days later, I was riding along in the back on a pelvis-splitting draft horse (a good choice compared to the other horse left in the corral), headed to one of the Twin Lakes to fish. I was marveling at how darn lucky I was to be living the good life when we came to the fork in the trail. The lake trail was completely impassable with deadfall, so we would have to walk from here.

Do you have any idea how much equipment six fishermen pack to catch (or more often release) a fish? A mule load is the correct answer. We divided the mule load eight ways and set off over and under deadfall in the blazing sun, cursing the fire that had caused this impassable mess and the trail crew that hadn't been here yet. I was carrying a cooking pot full of chili, hot dogs, and canned fruit. About halfway there, I considered making an executive decision to throw out everything but the tinfoil and make them live off their catch, and I made a note to myself to insist that shore lunches were going to have to be dehydrated from now on. However, the lake was pretty, the fish were fat, and the cooking pot was full of empty cans on the way out, so all was well. Besides that, complaining about a job in paradise seems just plain wrong!

I would like to share some summer treat ideas this week.

Ice Cream Sundae Dessert

3 C. crushed chocolate sandwich cookies

1/2 C. butter

1/2 gal. softened ice cream, your favorite

8 oz. carton whipped topping, thawed

2 to 3 T. chocolate syrup,

1/4 C. chopped pecans

In bowl, mix cookie crumbs with butter. Press in 9 X 13 pan. Carefully spread ice cream over crust. Spread with whipped topping. Drizzle syrup on top. Sprinkle with nuts. Freeze until firm for 2 to 4 hours.

Caramel Cashew Bars

1/2 C. shortening

1/2 C. butter, softened

3/4 C. granulated sugar

3/4 C. packed brown sugar

1 T. vanilla

2 1/4 C. flour

1 t. cinnamon

1 t. baking soda

1 1/2 C. chopped salted cashews

14 oz. bag caramels, unwrapped

1/4 C. milk

Spray 15 X 10 X 1 pan with cooking spray. Beat shortening, butter, and sugars with mixer until smooth. Beat in eggs and vanilla. Beat in flour, cinnamon, and soda. Stir in 1 C. cashews. Spread dough in pan and bake at 350 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes or until golden brown. Cool 10 minutes. Heat caramels and milk over medium heat, stirring until caramels are melted. Spread over slightly cooled bars. Sprinkle remaining cashews on top. Makes 48 bars.

Oatmeal Cookies

1 C. butter

1 C. sugar

1 C. brown sugar

2 eggs

1 t. vanilla

1 1/2 C. flour

1 t. cream of tartar

1 t. soda

1 t. salt

3 C. quick oats

Mix shortening, sugars, and 2 eggs. Then add cream of tartar, soda, and salt. Mix and add vanilla, flour, and oats. Shape into a roll 2 1/2 inches in diameter. Wrap in waxed paper and refrigerate two hours. Slice into thin slices and bake 12 to 15 minutes at 350 degrees.