farewell summer



It is time to say goodbye to summer.

The grey puffy sky outside my window says it so. The $140 bill for my human biology textbook affirms the sigh. Sigh. Bye, summer. You were great. Most of all, what I love about summer is outdoor cooking. I also love camping, though it had been long time since I had done so before our trip this summer. Also nice is the accidental farmers tan just from walking around. Arms still brown, summer still lingers. Several weeks back after a week full of disappointing news about losing jobs, freelance gigs cut short (thank you, economic recession, for that boost of confidence) we decided to cut out of town. Packed up the car with our tent & city-living stresses to shake. We landed in Ojai with coordinates to secret swimming holes. Hiking ensued, feeding burros in a creek happened. My feet slipped happily along mossy rocks & all that stress of the world just slid away into chilly mineral rich waters. Our campsite came with the requisite fire pit & a little charcoal pit. But we forgot charcoal. Somewhere in the neglected recesses of my mind, I gathered up the necessary information for building a fire & set out to cook for the weekend. It was rad. I made a lot of smoke at first, but then, flames, glorious flames! And glowing embers. Some rather proud moments of wilderness lifestyle proficiency. Okay, so, my style of wilderness proficiency; it is decided: I am not a backpacker. I am far too fussy for all of that. Gimme a cooler full of fresh vegetables & sausage, not trail mix & dehydrated proteins. I need to cook, must cook, must have coffee in the morning, even if it was instant. The morning chill bristling through the trees above just sounds that much better with a warm cup of coffee & a hot potato frittata. What I love about camping is the sort of planning-ahead & dependence on common sense it takes to have a great weekend. I made a Sparta-chic meal of grilled Andouille sausage, grilled spring onions & fresh corn on the cob for dinner one night & while we ate our dinner, our breakfast was already starting. I cut up some potatoes, foraged herbs & a sweet onion & set it over the grill to cook while we ate. It was to be the base for a frittata. The potatoes kinda burned, but, who’s counting? See, open fires aren’t consistent, they are far harder to moderate than charcoals, so you have to be patient, play along, don’t take it too personally. What is at one minute a barely simmering heat is the next a blazing inferno. Things cook unevenly, you get smoke in your eyes, things get sooty. It is my idea of a grand old time. Our leftover dinner got chopped up and stirred in with the eggs. All got layered over the potatoes that had spent the night in the cooler & we had a veritable feast both evening & morning. Better than any pricey brunch munching alongside hungover hipsters sipping on mimosas & hiding last night’s makeup behind sunglasses; we had chipmunks rustling in the brush, kids racing along the path connecting the campsites. We had hike-weary bones & and sleeping bag creases on our cheeks. So, if this were a back to school essay on what I did this summer: I went camping, I cooked over open flame. I fell in love with Ojai & swam in secret pools. My cast iron skillet has never been happier. After 10 long years gracing one gas range after another, it had its first go over an open fire. I am still getting charcoal smudges here & there, like little soot kisses, reminders of an amazing summer weekend.