Camp-style Baked Potatoes
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We never wrote down the recipe, we didn’t need to, it's etched into our minds with the sounds of hot coals popping under tinfoil shells.
Our camping trip started off with disaster. Tiny hands had contaminated all our food, the cooler laid open, its contents strewn across the forest floor. Paw prints marked every surface, a musty odor mixed with the smells of all our now contaminated leftovers hung heavy in the air. We’d been raided by raccoons. My dad shuffled us into the car and we drove into town to get new supplies. There was only one grocery store for miles, a dingy, cramped store that seemed to sell just about everything. An hour later we returned to our site with a sack of potatoes, what we found to be the best budget friendly meal option. The first night we made them they were far from perfect. Calling them “baked potatoes” would have been offensive to the food. The skin went thick and rubbery, the insides crumbly and dry in your mouth. They were overwhelmingly smoky, leaving an ashy, bitter taste that no amount of butter could save. Recipe
Ingredients:
Toppings: (Optional) *topping quantities vary to your liking*
Equipment:
Recipe: *This recipe is executed with a campfire/fire pit*
Topping:
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We didn’t have time to make another batch, they would have taken another hour of daylight we didn’t have. As the sun dipped below the tree line we choked them down anyways, washing each bite down with a sip of lukewarm water, a silent agreement that tomorrow’s attempt would be better.
That night, when all was settled, we huddled around the fire and laughed until our stomachs ached. Telling stories that could never compare to the new one we’d made, realizing some of the best memories come when plans go awry. Every camping trip we make the baked potatoes, ones far better than our first night, but every so often we mess them up. We’ve learned to make extras so we don’t need to choke them down, just like we’ve learned that some coolers have locks for a reason. |