Adaptation and Campfire Cuisine

Following Glory's appearance with her team at the North American Irish Dance Championships in Vancouver, we hooked the Bride Of Frankentrailer up to the Flex and took the ferry across to Vancouver Island for a week of camping.

We are situated in a cozy little campsite at Whiskey Creek, about ten minutes from Qualicum Beach. Yesterday afternoon we dropped into their excellent local grocery, Qualicum Foods, to procure a handful of vittles and a bite to eat.

When I arrived at the table I saw that the ladies had arranged some egg/rice dumplings, some sushi, and what appeared to be a large rotisserie chicken but turned out, in fact, to be a massive serving of roasted potato wedges.

"It was supposed to be a 24 pack," Glory explained, "but the lady just kept stuffin' em in there..." Despite our well known appreciation for this humble tuber and our very best efforts, we could only account for about half of what we'd been offered.

"Pack them along in the cooler," I suggested. "Maybe I can fry them up for breakfast tomorrow along with pancakes."

The next morning saw us all sleeping in, however, and we left in a rush in order to get to the QB farmer's market. The spuds languished in an electric cooler that was struggling to keep things cool while condensation coated everything within due to the 80% humidity.

That evening, we roasted bratwursts over the fire and had a salad from the farmer's market garnished with a peach vanilla vinaigrette we'd found at the Goats on the Roof market in Coombs. When stowing the leftover dressing, I came across the mass of potatoes, and announced my intention to dispose of them, since we would be breakfasting on the road on our way to Ucluelet the next day.

As I was repacking the cooler however, Glory came over, picked up the bag and headed back to the fire. She selected a promising looking wedge, affixed it to the prongs of her roasting fork, and stuck it over the flames. "You never know..." she shrugged.

Five minutes later, she had a crispy and flavourful potato portion that was too hot to eat immediately, with just a hint of carbon around the edges. In fact,it was very better now than it had been originally.

Soon, both forks were in play, and in very little time at all, the four of us had finished off the errant potatoes. Kudos to Glory for for thinking outside the takeout box!