Els and I spent the weekend enjoying the woods and delicious camp-cooking with some good friends. For dinner on Friday, Els made some crazy-delicious portabello burgers with smoked gouda, grilled green onions and Inglehoffer's stone-ground dijon mustard. For a meal made on a little two-burner Coleman campstove, this was fine gourmet. What is it about cooking in the great outdoors that makes food so extra-satisfying? Is it the smell of the trees, the gentle sound of the river and songbirds? Is it the primal satisfaction of escaping the soul-crushing, unnatural grind of city life? Is it because Els used almost an entire stick of butter cooking these? Truly, a question for the ages.
i'm gonna say it was the stick of butter along w/ a sprinkling of mosquitos ;)
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