We had a fine dining experience for four last night. Camping out just below Lochnagar after an evening amble up this delightful mountain, I discovered that I had left my camping gas cylinder for my pocket rocket stove on the kitchen table. Fortunately, I had a 2-litre pan and John had brought his stove and cylinder but there was not much gas so we would have to eke out the very last therm. John and I had brought various packets of pasta, rice and cous cous, as well as some cuppa soups. Most of the packets were out of date having been unused on previous overnight camps but these are times of austerity. So the first course was cheese and broccoli pasta supplemented by a couple of packet soups -chicken and leek and mushroom I think, but this was less important than that they would considerably augment the e numbers.
To our surprise, the food was warm and tasty and we wanted seconds. So in went the egg fried rice together with lime and coriander cous cous and another packet of soup, I know not what as the writing had worn off the packet from numerous such jaunts in my rucksack. And again it was a culinary triumph with Gregor announcing to John that he was through to the next round.
Alex was bemused, this was his first overnight walk on the Scottish hills, and the minimalist style of our cooking was alien to his palate. He nevertheless gobbled it down with a plastic spoon from his Sheffield Wednesday blue plastic dish, it was the apex of sophistication and healthy eating. But then he comes from Yorkshire where fine dining means beetroot in white sauce to go with your pie Mcpie. There was no gas left for a hot drink so we drank some burn water with our lemon slices and had some peanuts before turning in. We were well nourished and all survived the night, Alex was no doubt thankful that he never needs to watch Ray Mears again before he goes camping.
To our surprise, the food was warm and tasty and we wanted seconds. So in went the egg fried rice together with lime and coriander cous cous and another packet of soup, I know not what as the writing had worn off the packet from numerous such jaunts in my rucksack. And again it was a culinary triumph with Gregor announcing to John that he was through to the next round.
Alex was bemused, this was his first overnight walk on the Scottish hills, and the minimalist style of our cooking was alien to his palate. He nevertheless gobbled it down with a plastic spoon from his Sheffield Wednesday blue plastic dish, it was the apex of sophistication and healthy eating. But then he comes from Yorkshire where fine dining means beetroot in white sauce to go with your pie Mcpie. There was no gas left for a hot drink so we drank some burn water with our lemon slices and had some peanuts before turning in. We were well nourished and all survived the night, Alex was no doubt thankful that he never needs to watch Ray Mears again before he goes camping.
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