_GOOD HUMORED COOK

Steps:

• Back in the early 80's, I pulled my pack string into an outfitter's camp just at sunset. Their dudes were still out on the hill, so I accepted the invitation of the cook to stay for dinner. I unpacked and hobbled the stock and packed in an arm full of wood to the cook tent. I poured myself a cup of coffee from the pot on the wood stove and sat down to shoot the bull while the cook started work on dinner. It didn't take long to figure this old kid had spent part of the afternoon visiting with old "John Barley Corn". The dudes and their guides arrived about an hour after dark. The hot dry weather made the hunting tough, and the elk had all but quit bugling. In four days of daylight to dark hunting the four hunters had hung one small buck and one raghorn bull on the meat pole. Needless to say, there was an air of tired discouragement as we sat around the table waiting for the cook to finish dinner. The old cook knew how to erase the saddle miles off of one's jeans and the scowl off of one's face. Dinner was roast saddle of venison with red potatoes and carrots, sourdough biscuits, and dessert of huckleberry cobbler! It somehow seemed that after dinner every one's spirits had lifted and that maybe the bulls would tune up and start bugling in the morning. One of the dudes walked over to where I'd pitched my camp for a little conversation before we turned in for the night. I'll always remember him telling me that no matter how poor the hunting was, just coming back to that tent and having grub that good set before him made the hunt a success. The next morning I heard the guides wrangling their stock about two hours before daylight. I didn't have to make such an early start, so I fed my horses and wandered over to the cook tent to mooch a cup of coffee. When I pulled the tent flap aside and walked in, the cook was frying ham steaks, and had sourdough pancakes ready to fry, along with a couple dozen eggs. I helped myself to the coffee and sat down at the table. While I sipped my coffee, he cooked. I noticed he was sipping from a glass with about two fingers of an amber liquid. I commented on how good the food had been the night before and that breakfast didn't look like it would disappoint anyone. As we talked cookin', I asked him where he got all his recipes. When he said he kept them all in his head, I remarked something to the effect that would be kinda hard to do.. "Naw," he said, "they all start with the same ingredient". Puzzled, I asked what he meant. His reply has stuck with me since. He said, "Each recipe starts out with: Pour one beer or one shot of whiskey into the cook! Once I do that, the rest just seems to come to me!" After eating supper the night before and looking at the breakfast he was preparing, I couldn't see trying to argue with him. This old boy was the epitome of a "Happy cook is a good cook!"A Back Country Guide to Outdoor Cooking Spiced with Tall Tales