Various

“We have to consider,” I said, “the question of what food to take and how to cook it.”

“Camping out,” said Sylvia, “ought to be a complete holiday from the food bother. Why not live on unfired food, such as tinned tongue, sardines and bottled shrimps?”

Thereupon Felix laughed a great laugh, and said: “Just try and do a thousand miles on sardines.”

Felix is Sylvia's brother, who has spent some twenty years in America, travelling for weeks through country that contained no people, and spending nearly two years in a single journey to Dawson City and home again. He plainly knows far more about bed-rock camping than anyone else in the family and we allowed him to take the floor for a time.

“The first thing is bread.” said Felix, “because you can't do without bread. You must take some yeast or else some baking-powder with you to make it rise, or you must bake it very quickly so that the steam aerates it. You might take a Dutch oven with you, but it's nothing like the Dutch oven that you know in this country. It is an iron pot on three legs, with an iron lid. You stand it in the fire and cover the lid with hot brands and you can cook anything inside it—ducks and chunks of venison, and bread of course.”

“But Mr Freeman has barred the oven,” said Sylvia, “and if we are not going a thousand miles from home perhaps we can do without it.”

“As you like,” answered Felix. “I only mention it so that you can get hold of the general principle. You can make very good bread in a frying-pan. You must mix the dough up stiff so that when the pan is nearly upright it won't tumble out. You fix the pan up with a prop behind it so that the dough faces the fire, quite close, and you draw some more fire behind it so that the back is warmed as well. When it burns a good crust on both sides it is done.”

“What are flap-jacks,” I asked.

“Just pan-cakes made without eggs or milk,” said Felix. “You mix a quart of flour with a tablespoonful of baking-powder and put in water till it is just so thin that when you take up a spoonful and let it drop back you can see the shape of it for a few seconds before it melts into the rest. You fry the batter in bacon fat or butter just like pan-cakes, and the cakes are very good.”

A Summer Idyll

“That's a good tip for us,” I said, “and another good thing to take is cuddy biscuits, a kind of captain's biscuit. Soak them a few minutes in water or milk and fry them. They're nice with tomatoes or anything, or by themselves.”“Mebbe,” said Felix, and his tone said, “Mebbe not.” “I'm only discussing general principles, and you've got to work your own way out in the light of them. I've known an outfit come away without a frying-pan. How do you make bread then?”

We had to give it up, and Felix went on: “Open your flour sack, turn down the edge like it is in a baker's shop, make a little hole in the flour and pour in water to make a pond. Mix in what flour you want to use and get your dough into the shape of a snake, wind it round a stick and cook it like that. You've got your bread then like a French roll, and very good it is.”

We all liked the idea of making bread every day and eating it hot. Here was something to be had in camp that you could not get at home. And we liked the idea of learning our cooking by means of first principles. Whether we liked it or not, Felix liked talking about it, and he began to grow anecdotal.

“Once,” he said, “I met a whole lot of men, ten of them I should think, camped on a cold frosty night with nothing to eat. They were trying to do a journey of thirty miles on rough prairie and their horses were tired and they could not get on. They had brought their lunch and eaten it long ago, and they told me they were starving. They had nothing to eat, nothing to do any cooking with and no wood to make a fire with. I never saw such hungry people. They were new settlers just out from England and it was up to me to do something for them.

“‘What have you got in that great waggon?’ I asked. They told me they had some sacks of flour and two frozen quarters of beef, but there was nothing to cook it in and no wood to make a fire.

“There was any amount of cow-dung on the prairie, and it was dry as chips. I set them collecting that and soon enough had a fire. I filled a bucket with water and put it on to boil. I chopped off some meat and put it in. Then I made some dumplings and put them in. You just put them into boiling water, you know, and then they cook at once on the outside and don't come to pieces. If they boil too much they get pappy, and if not done through they're not good. Most dumplings you eat in England are not done, but mine were just right and those ten hungry men had just as good a supper as anyone could wish for.”

“Tell us about the coffee you used to make,” said Sylvia. “What horrible stuff it must have been.”

“The very best coffee ever I drank,” said Felix.

“We used to make it in a pot that was nearly a yard high. We never turned out the grounds, but let them settle and put in a little more every time we made coffee, till the pot was so full that it wouldn't hold any more water.”

“I don't see anything against it,” I said, when Sylvia and Gertrude were both expressing their horror. “There is no tannin or other bad principle in coffee and you never get anything worse out of it than you do at the first soaking.”

“The fellows that work the logs on the river have their own kind of coffee that they call drip coffee,” said Felix. “They have a tall pot like ours was and they tie the coffee in a sack above the water, so that the water never touches it, but the steam goes up and fetches it out in drops. They don't change the sack every time, but keep adding coffee till it won't hold any more.”

“The moral of which is?” said Basil, who had for some time been growing impatient.

“That there are plenty of ways of cooking an egg besides frying it,” said Felix, “and that a bit of common-sense is about the best article you can take with you out camping. Take your food as raw as you can get it and know how to cook it. Also know a good herb when you see it, and never overlook a chance of getting a meal from the country that will save your stores.”

C.R. Freeman.

Food reformers will have their own opinion about a diet of shrimps, sardines, tinned tongue and stale coffee when camping out: the most important part of the outfit is doubtless an adequate supply of common-sense.—[Eds.]