Randon lyrics

My daughter and son-in-law post lyrics on Facebook on occasion. I panicked the first time I read such a message.

Thinking it was an honest status update, I thought their lives were headed into a tailspin.

It took several minutes to realize that they were posting random song lyrics, usually from contemporary musicians that I've never heard of.

It's now my turn to post a random lyric, one with its own brand of despair and hopelessness. Here's a 1997 lyric by Tim O'Brien and Robin and Linda Williams:

I don't go in the kitchen, It's a wasteland to me
A place for dirty dishes and forgotten recipes

Although I purchased Tim O'Brien and Darrell Scott's Real Time CD some five years ago, "Five Rooms" didn't become a favorite until last summer on my weekly trips up and down the mountain.

The eclectic blend of guitar, banjo and mandolin blues tracks seemed to be the best drive-time music as I drove to Deer Crossing Camp.

Like the lyrics posted by my daughter, these don't make sense unless you listen to the whole song. Of course, I'll likely never listen to the artists that they like.

"Five Rooms" chronicles the wandering of one man though his five-room house. Despondent over "dreams ... shattered by two hearts made of stone," he roams from room to room.

The living room brings a "flood of memories," the bedroom is off limits because he's "all alone" and he's "mournin' for the love we both cast aside" as he wanders past the spare room.

In the end, "Five Rooms" gives a "faint light of direction" from the "bathroom's mirror reflection.

Who knows what point that I'm trying to make. I guess it's nothing more than to show fathers can play the "Facebook game" as well!

In the meantime, click over to Amazon and purchase a copy of Real Time. You'll enjoy it.

Note: I posted my thoughts on Hank Williams' "House of Gold" from the same CD in 2005.

Pasta shells with roasted broccoli and walnuts

Pasta salad is currently on the menu at work one time each week. When I started in December, I quickly discovered that the residents had tired of the vinaigrette-based salad.

To offer variety, I often morph the salad into a hot pasta dish every other week. This gives me the opportunity to experiment with a full range of different flavors.

Successful tests will be incorporated into the new menu, which will feature one pasta dish for lunch each week.

Spaghetti puttanesca filled the void twice in the past two weeks. While popular, the sharp bite of the puttanesca isn't universally accepted.

Today's pasta dish came from an article that I clipped in the doctor's office last year. The photograph of the dark green roasted broccoli in a bed of pasta shells caught my attention.

Since I was looking for vegetarian entrees at the time, I clipped the recipe and filed it in my large recipe binder.

As often happens, the recipe sat in the binder for a year. I had intended to use it at Deer Crossing Camp this past summer.

The recipe could've made a good inter-session dish. The crew would've enjoyed the rich blending of broccoli and walnuts roasted in olive oil with garlic.

It's a fair compromise when you feed a significant number of vegetarians, as I did during inter-session at Deer Crossing.

PASTA SHELLS WITH ROASTED BROCCOLI AND WALNUTS

To use frozen broccoli spears, steam until cooked about halfway. Cut the stems off the broccoli. Reserve the stems and cooking liquid for cream of broccoli soup.

Roast as directed. Since the semi-cooked florets will be moist, the roasting process may take a few minutes longer.

2-1/2 pounds pasta shells
6 pounds broccoli, cut into small florets
2 cups walnuts, roughly chopped
1 cup olive oil
8 cloves garlic, minced
Kosher salt and black pepper, to taste
1/2 cup melted unsalted butter
1 cup grated Parmesan

Cook the pasta according to the package directions. Reserve 2 cups of the cooking water, drain the pasta and return it to the pot.

Meanwhile, toss the broccoli, walnuts, oil, garlic, 2 teaspoons kosher salt and 1 teaspoon pepper together. Pour onto a sheet pan. Roast in a 400-degree F oven until the broccoli is tender, about 20 minutes.

Toss the pasta with the broccoli mixture, butter and 1 cup of the reserved pasta water. (Add more water if the pasta seems dry.) Sprinkle with the Parmesan before serving.

Serves 24 portions.

5th anniversary

Today marks the fifth anniversary of 'Round the Chuckbox. And I'll post my 1,000th blog article tomorrow, which is the fifth anniversary of my first blog article. See you then.

In the meanwhile, enjoy a photograph of me that was taken last summer at Deer Crossing Camp.

Chicken paprika

Chicken paprika was one of the camper's favorite dishes this summer at Deer Crossing Camp. I served diced chicken meat, bathed in a rich creamy sauce and lots of sweet paprika over steamed brown rice on the first Tuesday of each two-week session.

Gigi, Deer Crossing's assistant cook for the 2008 season, introduced the dish from her native Hungary. I enjoyed cooking it because of my own Hungarian ancestry.

It's only the second native dish that I've cooked during my professional career. The other dish is Hungarian goulash.

Gigi's chicken paprika is reminiscent of a recipe that I found in the Culinary Arts Institute's 1955 cookbook, The Hungarian Cookbook (Culinary Art Institute: Chicago, 1955).

CHICKEN PAPRIKA

Because my family likes drumsticks and thighs, I used a package of five chicken hindquarters for this dish. Split each quarter into two pieces at the joint between the drumstick and thigh.

Chicken & flour dredge
1 chicken fryer, cut into 8 pieces
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1-1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1-1/2 teaspoon paprika

Sauce
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/4 cup minced onion
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup chicken broth
2/3 cup milk
1-1/2 cups soup cream

Rinse chicken and pat dry. Combine flour and seasonings in bowl. Dredge chicken in flour mixture. Shake off excess flour.

Melt enough shortening over low heat to come just 1/8-inch up the side of a 12-inch cast iron skillet or heavy fry pan. Once shortening melts, increase heat to medium-high.

Place chicken skin side down into the pan. Put thighs in the center, and breast and legs around the edge of the pan. The oil should come half way up the pan. Cook chicken until golden brown on each side, approximately 10 to 12 minutes per side.

The internal temperature of the chicken should be about 180 degrees F when done. Remove chicken from skillet and discard fat. Wipe skillet clean if desired. Return chicken to skillet, arranging pieces in a single layer.

Prepare sauce in a 2-quart saucepan. Heat vegetable oil over medium-low heat. Add onion and sweat until translucent and soft. Whisk in flour and cook 2 to 3 minutes. Don't brown roux.

Remove saucepan from heat and gradually whisk in stock. Return to heat and bring mixture to a rapid boil, stirring constantly. Cook 1 to 2 minutes.

Add milk and paprika to saucepan, siring constantly. While stirring vigorously with wire whisk, add sour cream to sauce in small amounts.

Pour sauce over each piece of chicken in the skillet. Cook sauce over low heat for 3 to 5 minutes. Don't boil. Serve chicken over spatzle or egg noodles. Serves 4 to 5.

Phenomenon on the lake

Phenomenon on the lake
Originally uploaded by SeabeeCook

One Thursday last August, campers at Deer Crossing Camp arose to a strange weather phenomenon on nearby Loon Lake.

A thick layer of fog arose off the south end of the lake and was driven north toward Pleasant Lake by a brisk cold wind.

"This is weird," said Jim Wiltens, Deer Crossing owner and camp director.

"I've never seen this on the lake this late in the season."

The cold front steadily moved in over the lake over the next two hours. The cold air seemed to suck the moisture right out of the warm lake.

With an icy wind that cut right through you, staff and campers quickly domed warmer clothing. The uniform of the day quickly shifted from shorts and T-shirts to long pants and down jackets.

"It's so cold," noted one young camper at the breakfast table. This set the tone for the day.

The instructors scrambled to shift the planned water activities for the day. Extra cold water compromised swimming, kayaking and sailing.

Rain throughout the day drove many campers into the lodge. Instructors fed the woodstove all morning for the first time since the training session in June.

Weird weather for August? Yes, but it was a fun day. We watched the fog, and the rain that soon followed, from the warm comfort of the lodge.

Long lasting

I found this picture this morning while browsing through my collection of photographs from Deer Crossing Camp. This five-pound can of baking powder has been sitting in the kitchen since Sysco delivered it to the camp for the 1996 season.

What's amazing is that the can of baking powder had lot of staying power in it. I used it all summer and never had an issue with poorly leavened products.

Given a shelf life of three to six months, Deer Crossing Camp should purchase a new can each summer. While it's tempting to toss it and buy a new, much smaller can of baking powder, it should last another season or two.

At this rate, the Deer Crossing chef only has to purchase one large can of baking powder every 10 to 15 years!

Saga of the Deer Crossing oven, part 3

Relief came during the first week of Session 2. Jim called RJB Gas Plumbing Service, a local El Dorado County gas plumber. Owner Roy, a man my age with over 30 years experience, quickly discovered the problem and repaired it.

Roy said that Deer Crossing's oven was in better condition that two well-known El Dorado County eateries, both restaurants that Debbie and I have enjoyed. Roy brought me up-to-date on happenings in local establishments while he repaired the oven pilots and cleaned both burners.

Costly parts precluded replacement of both thermostats. I told Jim that I could live without a thermostat for the season as long as the ovens worked. I manually adjusted the oven temperature for the remainder of the summer.

I put both ovens to the test one day later during my third pizza night of the season. "The oven worked beautifully -- no flame-outs -- took 12 to 15 minutes for each batch," I wrote in my notebook.

As I often did throughout the summer, I expressed my relief in words. With 26 (12-inch) pizzas to bake that evening, pizza night had the potential of being a disaster.

"Music to my ears," I wrote with a feeling of liberation. "I lit both ovens and after a momentary pause, both burners went 'whoosh' as they're supposed to do -- the infamous DCC oven has been conquered!"

I wrote that note on Thursday, July 9, my last recoded comment regarding the ovens for the summer. Three weeks into my summer job the problem was solved.

Deer Crossing Camp's most important piece of culinary equipment was in top shape. Many thanks, Jim!

Saga of the Deer Crossing oven, part 2

The first big test for the ovens came on the first of eight pizza nights. I couldn't go one meal without re-lighting the oven pilot. Many meals I had to re-light it one or two times.

The process to light a pilot was cumbersome at best. I knelt down, pushed the pilot button down with my left hand and shoved the stick lighter up next to the pilot.

My hand cramped as I depressed the red button. And I couldn't release it because it it took a minute or more to heat the pilot to a point where it'd stay lit.

In the 35 to 40 minutes it took to bake a cake, I was usually on my knees three or four time making sure the burner was still burning. The pilot had to be re-lit once just to bake the cake.

Jim must've sensed my frustration with the whole process. I talked to him about the ovens daily with the hope that he'd locate the technical manual and repair the oven.

But there was no manual to be found on-line. Jim expressed his reluctance to tinker with adjusting the pilot. Although as the camp director, Jim has trained himself to maintain the camp, he had never tackled the oven.

Trepidation surfaced as I approached the first pizza night. Both ovens had to heat to 500 degrees for an hour or more as I baked 20 (12-inch) pizzas. The only way the meal would be successful was to have two ovens that worked perfectly.

"Both ovens handled reasonably well," I recorded in my notebook with some relief. "I had to manually light the left oven -- it worked all evening." Although the right oven eventually gave out, disaster was adverted that night.

To manually light the burner (or bypass the pilot), I jammed the stick lighter up against the burner and turned the oven dial to 350 degrees. Flame slid down the burner after a 10-second pause.

This was the only time that I successfully lit the burner in this manner. I tried unsuccessfully one other time. Safety concerns (like burning all hair off my head and face) restrained me from trying the unsafe method any more.

The right oven gave me more fits that first pizza night. "(It) gave out on me twice and I couldn't re-light it after the second time," I wrote.

That means that I went to me knees -- a physically challenging move for this fifty-something chef -- and once again jammed the stick lighter up against the pilot and start the process over. Fortunately, I was able to finish baking the pizza in the left-hand oven.

To be continued ...

Saga of the Deer Crossing oven

Two events made life in the Deer Crossing Camp kitchen easier this summer. Debbie's constant companionship was a great comfort to me during her seven-week stay.

She was a constant companion (as I reported here), one with whom I could talk and find solace. Even when we were in different rooms in the lodge, just knowing that she was present. I always knew that I'd see her in a little while and we'd be able to talk.

I can't imagine what this summer would've been like of Jim hadn't allowed Debbie to join me. Each work week would've felt much longer than the sum of its six days. Her presence relieved my mind of endless waiting for my next day off, a wait that would've been marked by loneliness and longing to see her.

I was blessed this summer and I am grateful to the camp's owner and director, Jim Wiltens, for allowing her to stay with me.

The second event had more of a physical impact on my stay at Deer Crossing Wilderness Camp. I discovered early during the training session that the ovens were going to give me fits all summer long.

An early heads up from the camp's 2008 chef in May warned me that the "ovens must be watched carefully for temperature fluctuations." Blake's words came true on Tuesday of my second week at camp.

I served caramelized chicken (chicken breasts basted with a soy-catsup-honey sauce that caramelized in the oven) and mashed potatoes with apple crisp that evening to the 15 staff at camp for training. I had to re-light each oven four or five times. The pilot seemed to blow out each time the burner cycled off.

I wasn't able to brown the crisp topping to a nice, even golden color. Jim and I talked about the ovens that night – this first of many conversations over the next two weeks.

From that first conversation we looked for solutions. Jim searched for a technical manual for the Imperial brand oven on the Internet, but never found one. Neither Jim nor I were willing to play with the oven's settings without some technical guidance.

The problem calmed down during the remainder of the training week. I didn't record anything in my notebook for the until the first pizza night during Session 1. Once I learned to handle the oven with care, like gingerly opening and closing the oven door, the problem seemed to go away for a few days.

To be continued ...

Home at last ...

I arrived home at 1:30 p.m. after enjoying a fulfilling 67 days at camp. By my account I was responsible for 6,863 meals over nine and one-half weeks.

While that sounds like an impressive accomplishment, remember that I was only feeding 65 campers and staff of the camp's peak attendance in July. It was a relaxing summer, one where I rarely had to rush meals.

I'll have more to say in the coming week or so. My notebook is full of articles, enough to keep the blog going for the rest of August and into September.

Now onto important things, like looking for work.

Old Glory no more

Old Glory no more
Originally uploaded by SeabeeCook

The flag pole at Deer Crossing Camp is a hold over from its days as the Loon Lake Boy Scout Camp (mid-1960s to mid-1970s). It stands proudly on the rock knoll that overlooks the Deer Crossing lodge.

I can imagine many a moving flag raising ceremony at the pole when the Boy Scouts used the camp. Young Boy Scouts standing in formation on the rock shelf below the ensign, dressed in khaki uniforms with neatly tied kerchiefs, give a steady salute to the proud symbol of our wonderful nation.

Deer Crossing only uses the pole as a rally point for fire drills and missing campers. I'd love to see the pole renovated and the nation's proud flag flown again up high.

A lonely time at camp

It's been lonely at Deer Crossing Camp without my wife. I took her home last night so that she could stay with our son, who returned from a summer at grandma's house.

It didn't really hit me until 11:30 this morning, when I sat down for the first time during lunch production. I felt a tear or two as I scribed notes in my camp cooking notebook.

An acute emptiness came over me. It's strange. As long as I was busy this morning, I didn't seem to miss her as much.

It's that empty feeling you get when half is missing -- a void that can only be filled one person, my wife of 28 years. Staying busy only takes my mind off of her for a few minutes.

Although we were at odds in the kitchen sometimes -- probably because I acted like the chef even when Debbie was in the kitchen. It's tough trying to be both husband and chef when your wife is one of your workers. It's a relationship that needs great care and understanding.

Still Debbie was a great comfort these past seven weeks. We'd talk when things became stressful in the camp kitchen. She's always been a good shoulder to lean on, especially when I was willing to listen.

We had a unique relationship at Deer Crossing Camp. Debbie and I were the only married couple at the camp for most of the summer. We'd talk in the evening and work out our differences.

Even though we had some rough days in the kitchen -- probably because her ideas differed from my on some issues -- I've learned to approach marriage as designed by God.

I treat her with understanding and give her a place of honor in my life. After all, we're "together of the grace of life" (1 Peter 3:7). I doesn't make sense to me to treat my wife any other way.

I'm going to continue to miss Debbie as I work this last week at camp.

Unlike the training session last June, when I didn't see her for 10 days, I have a day off on Sunday. I'll be home in time to pick Debbie and Jacob up so we can worship in Camino.

Knot tying chef

One of the side benefits to working a wilderness camp is you have the opportunity to learn skills other than in the culinary arts. Over the past nine weeks, I've become proficient in operating two different Honda generators, testing the water for chlorine content, bear-proofing waist disposal and cleaning the grease trap.

These are skills that I initially learned in the U.S. Navy Seabees in the early 1980s, but had set aside. But they are skills that the wilderness chef must master if he's to work independently of other camp staff.

Often the chef and his crew are the only ones in camp between meals. A self-sufficient culinary crew can relieve others of these tasks during the day when many are busy with other duties.

I recently re-learned to tie several important camp knots. Last week I asked David at Deer Crossing Camp to show me the bowline, a knot that's eluded me for years. I could never remember when the rabbit was supposed to come in or out of the hole or when he was supposed to go around the tree and dive back into the hole.

David patiently said, "The rabbit comes out of the hole, goes around the tree and back into the hole."

Simple enough. Then he said something that made sense to me.

"The tree in the lower piece in the loop," explained David.

It clicked -- suddenly I understood the process. In one simple sentence, David, an 18-year-old sailing instructor from Lenzie, Scotland, erased several decades of frustration with the bowline.

Since our Saturday know tying class -- one that took me back to knot tying in Navy boot camp -- I've working on a dozen other knots. Musty from handling pigtails, my hands have been busy practicing several useful knots.

Some, like the monkey fist, won't help me secure a kitchen tent to the forest floor. But it may if I need to weight down the end of a line or anchor a line to a rock crevace.

The figure eight, clove hitch and half hitch -- all knots that I've re-acquainted myself with over the past week -- will come in handy next time I need to secure a tarpiline over the wilderness kitchen.

Note: The links take you to an animated knot tying website called Animated Knots by Grog.

Scrambled eggs in camp

I find scrambled eggs in camp to be an easy process. You can cook the perfect eggs every time by following a few simple rules. The key is to use the right skillet, control heat and stop cooking at the right time.

I start with two large eggs per person at camp at the beginning of each session. We serve scrambled eggs four times during each two-week session. I crack more or less eggs for the next egg breakfast, based on camper acceptance.

The campers at Deer Crossing Camp generally won't eat more than two eggs each. Crack more eggs if you have a group of hearty eaters. I found that 10 dozen was good for the 65 campers and staff during Session 2.

I cracked 12 dozen for the session's first breakfast on Monday, July 6, 2009. After watching campers dump leftover eggs into the garbage, I reduced the number by two dozen. Sessions 2 and 3 ate closer to two eggs per person.

Crack the eggs into the appropriate-sized bowl or bowls. Whisk to combine. Season each dozen large eggs with 1-cup milk, 1-teaspoon salt and white pepper to taste. Whisk to incorporate milk and seasonings.

I like to cook scrambled eggs in a cast iron skillet. While you can use any heavy skillet with a thick cooking surface, I find cast iron to be a good conductor of heat. And with a well seasoned skillet, you won't have any problem with sticking.

Heat the skillet over medium heat until a layer of butter sizzles lightly in the bottom of the pan. Don't over-heat the skillet as this leads to scorched eggs.

I prefer to cook the eggs at a lower temperature than what's recommended by many recipes. I find that I get better quality control.

Pour the eggs into the skillet once it's heated. You should hear a light sizzle. Too much sizzle means that the skillet is too hot. This is where practice will help. About four- to five-dozen large eggs will fit inside a 17-inch Lodge skillet.

Using a steel or wood spatula, gently pull the spatula across the bottom of the skillet. Let the spatula glide. Apply too much pressure and you'll pick up the layer of overcooked eggs on the bottom. The goal is to release newly cooked eggs into the liquid mass while leaving any crust behind.

Watch the heat during cooking. Lower the temperature if the eggs are cooking too fast. Conversely, increase the flame is the eggs aren't cooking fast enough. Again, experience counts here. It takes upwards of 20 minutes to cook a 4- or 5-dozen batch of scrambled eggs in a large skillet.

Cook the eggs to the soft-set stage. A digital thermometer should read between 165 and 170 degrees F. The eggs will continue to cook for the first 10 minutes the skillet. I find that eggs with a slight undercooked appearance will be perfect by the time they reach the table.

While you can cook then to medium-set (about 175 degrees) your group is squeamish about soft eggs, I don't recommend going much further than medium-set. No one appreciates dry, overcooked eggs.

SCRAMBLED EGGS

This recipe comes from Food For Fifty. This recipe varies slightly in amounts than my recommendations. It gives you a good, basic recipe to start, plus some variations.

8-1/3 pounds eggs (about 75 total)
1-1/2 quarts milk
2 tablespoons salt
8 ounces margarine

Break eggs into mixer bowl. If using frozen eggs, defrost. Beat slightly on medium speed, using wire whip attachment.

Add milk and salt to eggs. Beat until blended. Refrigerate mixture, removing small amounts as needed.

Melt margarine in fry pan, griddle or steam-jacketed kettle. Pour in egg mixture (see notes). Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until of desired consistency. Eggs should be glossy and 165°F. Serve with No. 10 dipper.

NOTES:

Potentially hazardous food. Hold uncooked mixture below 41°F and cooked eggs above 135°F.

Breaking and pooling large quantities of shell eggs is not recommended.

Use pasteurized eggs when scrambled egg mixture must be held longer than 2 hours.

The type of equipment used will determine batch size. Eggs should be cooked in small batches and held for a minimum amount of time before serving.

STEAMER METHOD. Melt 4 ounces margarine or butter in each of two steamer or counter pans. Pour egg mixture into pans. Steam for 6-8 minutes at 5 pounds pressure until desired degree of hardness is reached.

OVEN METHOD. Melt 4 ounces margarine or butter in each of two counter or baking pans. Pour egg mixture into pans. Bake approximately 20 minutes at 350°F, stirring once after 10 minutes of baking.

For lower cholesterol, egg whites may be substituted for half of the whole eggs.

VARIATIONS:

Scrambled Eggs and Cheese. Add 1-pound grated cheddar cheese.

Scrambled Eggs and Chipped Beef. Add 1-pound chopped chipped beef. Reduce salt to 1 Tbsp or less.

Scrambled Eggs and Ham. Add 1-1/4 pounds chopped cooked ham. Reduce salt to 1-tablespoon or less.

Sysco has arrived

Sysco has arrived
Originally uploaded by SeabeeCook

How do you get food to a wilderness camp? By boat, of course!

Two staff meet the Sysco food truck at the Loon Lake boat ramp and load the 60 cases (or so) onto the camp's boat. After a 10-minute ride across the lake -- all one asks for are calm waters -- the boat is ready to be off-loaded at Ghost Boat Cove, the camp's main cargo point.

From there, the process gets physical. Although campers normally help, staff manually move the food along a 1/4-mile-long trail when campers are on out-trips, as they are today. Once at the lodge building, it's broken down and stowed for the week.

Today, five staff (including the chef) moved the 60 cases in about two hours. It took six loads in our three handcarts. All the frozen and refrigerated food was brought up to the food storeroom first. Dry goods and cleaning chemicals were handled last.

Iced tea

You miss the simpler things in life at a wilderness camp, like iced tea. It's not a nice medium-rare steak or juicy hamburger at the local restaurant, but a tall glass of freshly brewed iced tea.

While we enjoy cool water drawn from the depths of Loon Lake, Debbie and I long for an ice cold beverage after a nine-day stretch in the kitchen.

The first thing we did at The Forrester, a pub and grill in Camino, California, was to ask for a glass of iced tea. Filled to the brim with crystal-clear ice cubes that melt into the tea, the first two glasses slipped down easily. Our served left the pitcher after she poured my third glass of iced tea.

Our refreshing beverages (Debbie ordered ice water) were the hit of the evening. Debbie's shepherd's pie and my baby back ribs took second place to our ice cold thirst-quenching drinks.

Oatmeal explosion

I serve Deer Crossing Camp's "oatmeal explosion" meal once each week. The first comes on Friday of the first week, repeated on the following Monday or Wednesday, just before campers leave on their out-trips.

The meal is so named because it explodes in your mouth when topped with a dozen add-ons.

Served plain, often with cream of wheat for non-oatmeal eaters, I supply campers cinnamon, cocoa powder, brown sugar, honey, syrup, raisins, shredded coconut, chocolate chips, butter and milk (or soy milk). Nuts and other toppings are served when available.

Each camper assembles toppings for form a special breakfast. With seven tables currently, I call each table to the front counter of the kitchen in order. Campers then take a ladle of oatmeal or cream of wheat before rummaging through the toppings.

It takes 1-1/2 (42-ounce) boxes of oatmeal and 1/2 (28-ounce) box of cream of wheat to serve a camp of about 65 campers and staff. Campers average a 5- or 6-ounce portion when self-served. This amount is enough for firsts and seconds.

Because I often don't have any water in the system at 6 a.m., I fill a 20-quart pot with water in the evening and leave it covered on the range overnight. I turn the burner on as soon as I walk in the kitchen. It takes about 45 minutes for a large pot of water to boil at the 6,500-foot elevation of Loon Lake.

Once the water boils in the morning, I dip the water into waiting pots for the two cereals. Once I add the cereal to the pot, I simmer it for a minute or two, then cut the heat and let is steep until breakfast. This helps me avoid burnt oatmeal as our pots are rather thin.

First meal of the session

Deer Crossing Camp menus spaghetti with meat and vegetarian sauces for the first dinner of each session. The meal is universally accepted, easy to prepare and reminds new campers of home.

Philly-style Polish sausage sandwiches and inter-session meals

My number-one inter-session food request from staff is for adult food. The instructors (and the small number of campers staying for the next session) want off-menu food items. They welcome any dish that's a change from the standard Deer Crossing Camp two-week cycle menu.

When I started lunch prep at 11 a.m. yesterday, I quickly assembled 2 salsas. My first thought was to offer a trio of salsas to the 14 staff and campers that would eat lunch. Three unique flavor combinations would form the basis for a chip and salsa extravaganza.

The first two salsas quickly came together. The fiery orange and apple salsa contained two dice Valencia oranges and two diced granny smith apples with ground cumin and the juice of two limes.

Red and green bell peppers, roasted and cut into strips, and flavored with a quick spicy vinaigrette (vegetable oil, white vinegar, chili powder, salt and pepper) formed a sweet pepper salsa.

I switched gears by the time I got to make a salsa fresca. When I first posed the idea of serving leftovers from the Friday barbecue, one instructor doubled her request for something other than leftovers. She may have thought I was going to throw a plate of warmed-over hamburger patties and sausages on the table.

Inter-session meals are the perfect time to get rid of the few leftovers in the refrigerator. I rarely have sufficient quantity to feed the whole camp. Inter-session gives me the opportunity to mold the leftovers into something new.

So, ingenuity and the desire to fulfill instructor requests for adult food drive many of my ideas for inter-session meals, which run from Saturday lunch to Sunday lunch. Once campers for the next session arrive on Sunday afternoon, I'm back on the two-week cycle menu.

My original thought was to slice the 22 Polish sausages and saute them with tomatoes, onions and sweet peppers. Leftover Boca burgers would form the basis for the vegetarian option.

With my newly revised menu in my heads, I figured the orange and apple salsa could double as a fruit salad, while the sweet pepper salsa would make a good relish for Polish sausage sandwiches with melted cheese – a quick camp version of the famed Philly cheese steak sandwich.

I slice the tomatoes for the salsa fresca and marinated them in a quick vinaigrette with garlic and basil. It only took a few minutes to slice onions, green bell peppers and tomatoes for the sandwiches.

To complete the sandwiches, I sauteed the onions and sweet peppers in a large cast iron skillet, then added sliced Polish sausages. Once the sausages came to temperature, I spooned the mixture onto toasted hamburger buns, topped with sliced cheese and melted the cheese in a 350-degree oven.

Note: In the last two pictures, the sandwiches with the bell pepper on top of the cheese are vegetarian sandwiches. This helped me identify them from the meat sandwiches.

Day off and breakfast with a buddy

June 9, 2009 was the last time I worked on the rail project with friends in the old Southern Pacific rail yard at Diamond Springs.

My summer job at Loon Lake in Eldorado National Forest has kept me far away from the day-to-day action of the El Dorado Western Railway and El Dorado County Historical Museum.

When I left for Deer Crossing Camp the next day, the rail removal project was just getting started. Except for weekly email updates from friend and EDWRF President Keith Berry, I've been out of the loop.

Home for a rare two-day stretch, I emailed Keith earlier in the week and arranged to meet him at the Diamond Springs Hotel for breakfast yesterday.

By chance, Keith and I met up with El Dorado County Fire Battalion Chief Kurt Taylor and EDWRF board member Ed Cuhna at the hotel just after 8 a.m.

Local politics kept the foursome busy as we enjoyed breakfast by Kevin, the hotel's morning cook. With two firefighters at the table (Ed is a retired fire captain), conversation quickly moved to stories of the 1992 Cleveland Fire and Kurt's vintage firetruck that the two are restoring.

Once Kurt and Ed left to work on the fire engine, Keith and I talked on. Our conversation shifted over to railroad happenings in El Dorado County. (Go to the El Dorado Western Railway blog for news of the project.)

I caught up on the happenings of the railway and the proposed El Dorado County Railroad Park at the old El Dorado depot site in El Dorado.

Breakfast gave me a chance to re-connect with rail buddies and get my mind a way from the camp kitchen.

Ever gracious, hotel co-owner Amy Shim (with husband Moon) and Kathy, our server, kept coffee and soda flowing for two and one-half hours.