You’re out and about doing adventurous things and generally
working up the sort of appetite worthy of a swash buckling daredevil like
yourself. Now, mummy isn't here to make sure you finish all your Weetabix or to
cut the crusts off your white bread sarmies so you have to fend for yourself.
Camping and food will, more than likely, go one of two ways – the most delicious or the
most shit. At least that’s the experience of this camp-fire cordon bleu. But
never fear if you stumble down the path of the latter as a couple of
heavy-handed bevvies and the limited light source can always work in your
favour. Any grumblers can do the fucking washing up.
Here are a few suggested meals and foodstuffs to keep
mothers from worrying and you from starving.
The Classics:
Braai
We’re g.d South Africans so obviously our first instinct is
to throw some meat on the fire and poke it with tongs while we drink something
manly. This being said, it’s time to debunk the myth that men do the braaiing
while the lady people make a salad. I have faced fiery coals and scorching
flames, on numerous occasions, whilst the gents lounged around in various
states of uselessness. So next time ladies, why not hand your Mr. Man the bag
of iceberg lettuce? Personal experience will suggest not getting so drunk you
let the coals get cold before the meat is even on the fire. Half-cooked cheese wors is not very delicious at all.
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| Womanning the braai |
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| Gents need not apply |
The Potjie
As a relatively unpleasant youth, potjies were just not my
pot of stew. I can’t think of a valid reason now, bar my general adolescent
awfulness, why this was so, but the hurumphing that went on when presented with
a bowl of the stuff was beyond the pale. Luckily the horrors of youth are left
to the young, and my god(!) there are few things more majestic then a potjie
cooked on an open fire, in some forgotten corner of Africa. Food doesn’t get
more communal than this. So have everyone contribute something to the pot and
then leave it to bubble gently as you swap tales of adventure and misdeed. Like
Jesus and those fish, there’s always enough for everyone. (Side note: Don’t be
the dildo that picks out all the meat. No one likes your kind.)
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| Potjie in its early stages |
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| And then in the final stages |
The Desperates:
Tuna Surprise
Surprise, surprise, I’m feeding you tinned tuna with rice and/or
2-minute noodles. Again. Let’s be frank with each other, life isn't always a
night at the Ritz. Sometimes you’re tearing through the bush in two-day old
undies and a vehicle held together with duct tape. Sometimes you’re
bare-knuckle boxing life experience and you have to take what you can get. Add a
tin of tomato and onion mix and shovel down a well-balanced meal. Remember
you’re a cunt, not a pussy.
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| Mmmm, tuna and stuff |
The Chip Roll
First up, there is nothing wrong with Simba Chips crushed
into a soft white bread roll. Greater men than you have been raised on this
on-the-go feast. I’m partial to Mrs. Balls Chutney flavour, myself, but there
really is no right or wrong with this one. Ideal for roadside lunching or when
you’re so poor you pronounce it 'paw'.
The Sublime:
Stokbrood
Holy shit, I’m pretty sure that childhood camping memories
are made of stokbrood, jammed so full of butter and syrup that dribbled down your
chin and oozed out the bottom onto your jim-jams. I’m even testing my fingers for
stickiness as I type this. All you need to make this little daydream a reality is bread
dough (super easy to make, even when camping), long sticks, and butter and
syrup for jamming and oozing. Do all the mixing, kneading and rising that your
dough needs. Fashion lumps of said dough over the end of stick and hold over
the fire. Important things to take note of: you’re probably going to have burnt
bits and raw parts – such is the nature of the beast, and don't let your stick pierce
the bottom of the dough – you want a closed passage to fill with deliciousness - this is not supposed to sound dirty so get your mind out of the gutter.
Anyway remove cooked stokbrood from stick, butter and syrup up, and then
devour. Mmmm, I need a moment.
Breakfast Skottel
We once ate scrambled egg on Salticrax. That was not breakfast skottel. My dad used to burn one side of the sausages and then serve
them burnt-side down. That was not breakfast skottel. I once dropped all the
French toast in the dirt. That was definitely not breakfast skottel. No, no,
no, the breakfast skottel is perfection in its purest form. Let’s set the
scene: You woke even before the crack of dawn and spent several hours driving through
Kruger, Umfolozi-Hluhluwe or Pilansberg looking for illusive beasties at which to marvel. Now the sun is up and coffee and Ouma’s buttermilk rusks aren’t going to
cut it. So you pull into the nearest picnic spot and break out the ol'
skottel-braai. Pack that thing with everything – eggs, tomato, mushrooms, bacon
and sausies. Hell, you’re even going to toast your bread on it.
Alternate feeding with dissecting that morning’s viewing – it doesn’t get much
better.
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| Breakfast skottel: pre eggs and toast |
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| Post game drive feeding |
