Postby tony2 » Wed Feb 26, 2014 1:11 am
OK, True story time:
I was Scoutmaster for a troop in South Florida and a lot of our camping was done in or near the everglades. I had three other adults with me and it was troop policy that each patrol feed their adult guest as a way of saying thanks for driving them there, etc. Some times that was more of a curse than a blessing. This was one of those times for me.
Relatively new scouts, 12 and 13 made up this patrol. They had one who was about as heavy as me but a foot and a half shorter. His buddies called him "Birdie." when I asked why I was told it stood for a 500 lb canary. I didn't press it.
for new scouts, getting to sleep that first night is more than mildly difficult. Birdie wanted to know when they could start breakfast (it was about 10pm -- at that point I could figure out how he was so rounded out). I told them they had to wait until the sun was up (about 6am) and then went to my tent and bed.
I was awakened about 4 am to the crackling sound of a rather large campfire as I blearily saw it ghosts on the back wall of the tent. Crawling out of a nice warm sack still in my shorts, i found Birdie and his patrol getting ready to cook breakfast. I tried to be calm when I asked them why so early. They enthusiastically pointed to the East and told me it was the sun coming up. Now you also have to imagine a Tenderfoot (new scout) cooking fire: flames were leaping 3 feet high when I pointed out to them that it was not the sun, but the city lights of fort Lauderdale and the sun would not rise from the river of darkness for at least another 2 hrs. "Put the forest fire out and get back to bed" were my final verbalizations as I began to wonder how far the local happy farm was and whether they could take me for getting myself into this mess of kids.
Dawn actually arose, RA has escaped the embrace of Apophis once more and sure enough the attempt to use 50% of the glades for firewood was again on.
Jump ahead to the actual fixing of breakfast: PANCAKES - great. Poured powder mix into bowl: check (well, they got that far). Add 2 cups of milk: "Jimmy, get the milk. "can't, Birdie drank it all last night. OK, we'll use water.... ADD 2 EGGS ... can't - Birdie sat on the styrofoam cooler last night and crushed it. OK, use water" (at this point my Diner's Club card was looking better and better). "1/2 STICK OF BUTTER ... can't. Birdie forgot to pack it. OK, more water then. "
For that culinary repast, he should have been using a witch's cauldron rather than a mixing bowl.
Of course the fire was too hot, but in went the paste into an ungreased frying pan. "Birdie, hand me the pancake turner" Not here, must have gotten lost. (As the frothy glop in the pan had resigned itself and refused to even bubble in despair). "Well, hand me a hand axe" (Now I found out what that tool's real mission in life really was).
Scrape, scrape, scrape. Into a plate which was presented to me as breakfast. They did remember the syrup although with each of the few bites I choked down, I was reminded of eating from the paste bowl in my old elementary school library (sorry, that is another story altogether).
That evening after lights out there were a few muffled sounds emitting from that patrol's tent. Strangely, Birdie never forgot a food item again. I. to this day, wondered why their nocturnal conversation was so muffled.... Now you too know the recipe for SCRAMBLED PANCAKES!