“While civilization has been improving our houses, it has not equally improved the men who inhabit them. It has created palaces, but it was not so easy to create noblemen and kings.”
― Henry David Thoreau
Def: A snipe hunt, a form of wild-goose chase that is also known as a fool's errand, is a type of practical joke that involves experienced people making fun of credulous newcomers by giving them an impossible or imaginary task. The origin of the term is a practical joke where inexperienced campers are told about a bird or animal called the snipe as well as a usually preposterous method of catching it, such as running around the woods carrying a bag or making strange noises such as banging rocks together. Incidentally, the snipe (a family of shorebirds) is difficult to catch for experienced hunters, so much so that the word "sniper" is derived from it to refer to anyone skilled enough to shoot one.
It’s another Sunday, the sky offers no reason to rise from my bed, but I woke up anyways . . quite stiff (not that kind of stiff) and consumed by the plethora of tasks awaiting my attention. Much like my series of “the Social dinners”, this personal journal (I can’t call it a damn blog anymore . . blog is too close to “blah” it sounds harsh as if conceived from Germanic tongue) is sort of, evolving at a natural pace (not a painted turtle, nor a marsh hare – probably a black footed ferret?). Nothing being left to certainty, I’ve started today off with a little coupon of my screenplay/book that I am writing . . . curiously, I implore you to share your honest comments, critique and/or suggestions.
Summertime Camp – takes you back huh? Much like the story of the Snipe, my favorite part of camp was the opportunity to re-create oneself – imagination absent of any limitations. Nobody hanging around that needed forgiving, Nobody around to remind you of that time you unloaded two pints of pee in the middle of 2nd grade show-n-tell, Nobody maliciously chanting the childhood nickname “coweyes” Nope – Nobody at all that could cling to any past memory for sake of judgment, persecution, jealousy . . Simply as fresh of a start as the linear army of sweet corn shoots pushing up through the recently churned, charcoal black soil, unfolding each Kermit colored leaf in exploratory wonder of the gratuitous Midwestern sunshine.
Similarly, as adults we may choose to cling to comfortable associations in an endless effort to domesticate our Odyssey, but occasionally. . an opportunity presents itself to change course, uproot ourselves, navigate towards an unknown horizon in search of Oceania by moving to a new city, state or even country? Speaking for my own inter-wiring nest of co-axial cables – I enjoy “change” be that physical location, mental form or emotional state. (Noteworthy: I’ve not necessarily enjoyed the catalyst for change but the modus operandi involved by virtue of circumstance & elective choice).
Los Angeles has been nothing more the another chip wedged into my Southern California stint as a bewildered farmboy, an eager apprentice, an accomplished chef, a seasoned entrepreneur, a proud home-owner, a lover, a friend, a volunteer, a sideline society cheerleader. . .perhaps, the time has finally come to breakout the ferocious appetite of a Husqvarna 240e chainsaw and gnaw down this Western Sycamore chapter? (could the minted aroma of a more native Eucalyptus be the cause of coaxing?). The tarot card of “the Fool” finally in play . . . unsettled in every way, yet so sanguine . . . I’ll marinate on it, at least until the next crescent moon.
Ironically, my least favorite part of camp was the flavorless, pre-manufactured Sysco fashioned foods. I’m biased as any when it comes to what goes into my mouth . . . but really? How difficult is it to actually make pancake batter from scratch??? Ask anyone who’s gone camping with Chef Scotty and you’ll see how my bad-ass rolls out more than just a Coleman Green Valley sleeping bag? Local spiny Lobster Pot Pie anyone? Potato Chip encrusted Northern Pike with Brandied-caper sauce, How about Baja nabbed, Thai coconut curried Green lip Mussels? Yeah, that’s right baby . . . this fool brings the delight of epicurean funk to any outdoor firepit. This recipe is uber-simplified for limited groceries and/or capabilities. Enjoy!
with Culinary Blessings, Chef Scotty
Firepit Fish-n-Chips Recipe
• FOR THE FISH:
• Half of a 5-ounce bag of kettle-cooked salt and vinegar potato chips
• 1 (5- to 6-ounce) freshly caught fillets, 1 to 1 1/2 inches thick
• Salt, for seasoning
• 2 teaspoons mayonnaise
• FOR THE DIPPING SAUCE:
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise
• ¼ cup Dijon mustard (NOT ballpark dammit!)
• 1 hit of brandy (we Wisconsin folk like our Christian Brothers & Korbel)
• 1/2 squeeze of fresh lemon juice (if you got it)
• 1/4 tablespoon spice mix (&/or salt-n-pepper)
• Dash or two of Tabasco
1. Heat the campfire good and plenty with volcanic red carbon coals. Place the potato chips in a gallon-size ziplock bag (or garbage bag double lined) and use a rolling pin (flashlight?) to crush them.
2. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and spray it lightly with cooking spray (rub oil, butter or Vaseline if you have to). Arrange the fillets on the foil and season them lightly with salt.
3. Smear a teaspoon of the mayonnaise over the top of each fillet, then sprinkle on the crushed chips, completely covering the top of each piece.
4. “Bake” the fillets on the rack balanced on the embers (or put on the top oven rack if at home) until they are just cooked through, about 10 minutes. 5. While the fish is baking, stir all of the sauce ingredients together in a small bowl until well blended. Serves 4 hungry campers.
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