Ride the Wave or Hide Away? Kooky Dreams & Candied Ginger

Dreams are the touchstones of our characters.”
― Henry David Thoreau

January 10^th, 2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPsU7x2tEDY 

In depth dreams kept me crawled up in bed until 10am.  Interesting scenarios of running into a guy, Michael Venedicto, who ripped me off of 100k back in 2005 (lesson learned: a judgment doesn’t mean you get the money and here he was mocking me in my dream), my father & stepmother watching me as I unwrapped a belated Christmas gift – beneath the layers of shiny scarlet paper I uncovered an interestingly shaped pewter platter that I had previously given to them in another dream.   And in my final series of surreal dreams I embarked upon a lovely sailing adventure accompanied by Chef Deborah Scott and an attractive San Diego boy that I’ve always admired, named Jesse (always had a thing for blond & blue).

In this last epic vision, we channeled up a rather quaint creek for a stretch making conversion & well . . making out (Deb drove the boat) until we at last reached the Pacific Ocean.   Rather than drop anchor, we scooted the sailboat onto shore before jumping out into the crisp, blue water for a joyful afternoon swim.  Then out of nowhere a Tsunami rolled up in the form of a horizontal wave traveling parallel to the beach.  It swelled to more than fifteen feet high and while Deb & Jesse had the common sense to make a b-line for the shore, my dumbass opted to attempt tucking under the surmountable wave.  That didn’t work out so good!  I was dragged under and carried off and away into something of a green lagoon.  Eventually, I made it back to the secluded beach without any notable physical scars or injuries (thanks to dream protocol) to enjoy some further affection by the aqua azul eyed chap (Deb had evaporated from the equation).  I didn’t want to wake up, kissing him felt so good . . . but at last, I had to pee.

Dreams are often attributed to offering some insight beyond our consciousness.  Obviously I am no psychologist but I think getting plastered by a massive wave in the midst of romance might have something to do with my late November Aussie affair.   The unwrapped pewter gift just might symbolize my father’s constant support and perhaps present me with the question of what culinary path I am to follow . . what am I to serve up on that platter?  The representation of a past thief most likely triggered by my meeting yesterday with my lawyer over our upcoming Friday the 13^th appointment with the judge – I’d very much like to put my Eden/ChileCo affair to bed and move on with my life.  Who know’s the real answer; I think half the battle is simply trying to make sense out of our dreams as much as we try to make sense of our reality.  There is no right or wrong answers so long as you’re at least attempting to understand any given situation, evaluating your responses and hopefully applying lessons learned to future scenarios.

I’m suiting up for the gym in a few, I think it’s time a got back into the groove and clear my cloistered head.  Too many cobwebs up there!  Something simple of a recipe to nibble on – a recipe for making homemade candied ginger.  A great snack that is full of bite – kind of refreshes your memory of the moment . . .

With Culinary Blessings,

                 Chef Scotty

Recipe: Candied Ginger Matchsticks

A sweet hot treat that is sure to ignite that sex drive or spark some inspiration.  Feel free to make plenty and store in freezer Ziploc bags.

Ingredients

• Nonstick spray
• 1 pound fresh ginger root
• 5 cups water
• Approximately 1 pound granulated sugar

Directions

Spray a cooling rack with nonstick spray and set it in a half sheet pan lined with parchment.

Peel the ginger root and slice into 1/8-inch thick slices using a mandoline. Place into a 4-quart saucepan with the water and set over medium-high heat. Cover and cook for 35 minutes or until the ginger is tender.

Transfer the ginger to a colander to drain, reserving 1/4 cup of the cooking liquid. Weigh the ginger and measure out an equal amount of sugar. Return the ginger and 1/4 cup water to the pan and add the sugar. Set over medium-high heat and bring to a boil, stirring frequently. Reduce the heat to medium and cook, stirring frequently, until the sugar syrup looks dry, has almost evaporated and begins to recrystallize, approximately 20 minutes. Transfer the ginger immediately to the cooling rack and spread to separate the individual pieces. Once completely cool, store in an airtight container for up to 2 weeks. Save the sugar that drops beneath the cooling rack and use to top ginger snaps, sprinkled over ice cream or to sweeten coffee.

Enjoy the Silence of Uncertainity, Enlisted Efforts, Potsticker Assembly

“One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.”
― Henry David Thoreau

Janurary 9^th, 2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMfV0sVQ_VU

Delusion of the Illusion, what pumpernickel I’ve become over these pivoting days of the New Year.  I am but a vagabond carelessly skipping through the tarnished streets of Los Angeles, oblivious to the modest treasures of mankind and forever tinkering with my speechless companion; a green & white stripped yo-yo.  Up and down, walk the dog, flick forward and reel back . . . mesmerized by the minute, the traffic passing by without care or concern . . . maybe I should get on the bus and at least pretend that I have a destination?

To say that I organized my physical affairs yesterday would be like saying that the Dalai Lama is gracious – a big understatement.  The chaos that was once my catering bins in the garage is roughly 90% packaged into practical method and means; my room “the attic” is now features more than four square yards of free space exposing the hardwood floors below and more importantly, vanquishing a substantial portion of the “cluttered as f’k feeling.”  My unkempt piles of paperwork harboring the plethora of documents and copies concerning my lawsuit, bills left for dead, various business proposals, menu’s, consulting outlines . . . all filed away both physically and mentally.  I now know where I stand (for better or worse) and what actions are required to either complete, dismiss or recalibrate.

Back to creating a list.  It really didn’t work last week as I was overwhelmed by the mess of my affairs (professionally and as of recent personally) and the desire to escape without clear direction.  Not to say that I haven’t made any progress, but fair to establish that I gained more from m digression than any plausible ascension.  My lawyer has an important meeting with the judge this coming Friday, the whereabouts of my assigned tasks are outlined and I shall attack these prioritized duties first.  Next, I will attend to the various facets that might yield some financial sustenance – broke as a yolk I am.  Fortunately, I have a few golden nuggets that are my primary focus for establishing a regular income stream but these items won’t furnish immediate monetary relief . . as such, I have to whittle & whore my chef skills to the nearest bidder.  The remaining items of interest are not likely to receive any immediate attention but at the very least – they have been acknowledged, named and charted for future intent.  Lastly, I am writing my journal entry and having returned from never-never land – “Peter Pan choked out Tinkerbell over a box of Whoppers; he’s made his amends, buried her little fairy ass in the dirt below a rat infested Date Palm and is at last listening to the reader.”

I haven’t gone to the gym, I haven’t made lunch in half a century, I haven’t chanted Nam Myoho Renge Kyo . . . I had abolished my routine all together.  It’s time to put the pieces back together with a rejuvenated outlook and so I give you a recipe for assembly – the Potsticker

With Culinary Blessings,

                      Chef Scotty

The Foundation of a Potsticker

  Ingredients

• 1/2 pound ground pork or turkey, chicken, lamb, shrimp or beef
• 1/2 medium head cabbage, finely chopped
• 1 green onion, finely chopped
• 2 slices fresh ginger root, finely chopped
• 2 water chestnuts, drained and finely chopped
• 1 cup of fresh herbs (cilantro, basil, mint or mixture thereof)
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon white sugar
• 1 teaspoon sesame oil
• 1 (14 ounce) package wonton wrappers
• 5 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 3/4 cup water
• 1 tablespoon chili oil
• 1 tablespoon soy sauce
• 1 teaspoon rice vinegar

Directions

1. Crumble pork into a large, deep skillet. Cook over medium high heat until evenly brown. Drain and set aside.
2. In a medium bowl, mix together the pork, cabbage, green onion, ginger, water chestnuts, herbs, salt, sugar and sesame oil. Chill in the refrigerator 6 to 8 hours, or overnight.
3. Place a tablespoon of the pork mixture into each of the wonton wrappers. Fold the wrappers, and seal the edges with a moistened fork.
4. In a large, deep skillet, heat 3 tablespoons vegetable oil over medium high heat. Place the pot stickers into the oil seam sides up. Heat 30 seconds to a minute. Pour water into the skillet. Gently boil 7 to 8 minutes, until oil and water begins to sizzle, then add remaining oil. When the bottoms begin to brown, remove pot stickers from heat.
5. In a small serving bowl, mix together the chili oil, soy sauce, and vinegar, adjusting proportions to taste.

Eleven lords a leaping, Numb, Fish-n-Chips Recipe

“I have heard of a man lost in the woods and dying of famine and exhaustion at the foot of a tree, whose loneliness was relieved by the grotesque visions with which, owing to bodily weakness, his diseased imagination surrounded him, and which he believed to be real. So also, owing to bodily and mental health and strength, we may be continually cheered by a like but more normal and natural society, and come to know that we are never alone.”
― Henry David Thoreau

December 5^th, 2012

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_-qRcHAhzk

Those crusty eyelids slid open like rusted over garage doors, shifting the Earth beneath my burdened body I made my way for the water lapping at the edge of my desires to cast free from this stalagmite ridden enclave.  What a fool to have forgotten I am a water dragon!  The buoyancy of the Mother’s tears will carry the most pressing weight until I have at last gained momentum; the sunset awaits my baptism . . . free at last, I’ll take flight at the crest of an amber horizon.

This morning, I have risen from the depths of my own imprisonment, the  chamber of secrets no longer gripping my mind with doubt and trepidation.  Maybe it was the 16oz bloodied ribeye that I ravenously devoured last night, maybe it was the correct prescription of unlimited sleep . . who knows – all I know is that I am wide awake and grateful to have shredded my pity like the remaining scraps of grizzle on my dinner plate last night.

Where to begin?  How long have I been gone?  A list, best to start with a definitive list so as not to become overwhelmed by the surmountable tasks needing my most adamant attention.   And coffee, more coffee . . . a jumpstart is best accompanied by some Tanzanian dark roast and tightly fitting sneakers; amazing how the shoes you strap on can either undermine your evening intentions or escalate your matching pin-striped demeanor.  The time is 10:19am, if I strategize and work diligently I can finish this Thursday with some sort of redeeming sensation of accomplishment.

Are any of my recent nocturnal escapades worthy of sharing in detail?  If they were, they would likely be at the forefront of my thoughts and pour out onto this journal – Numb.  That is what I leave you to consider, the very state of my existence these past few days.

 Definition of NUMB

1: devoid of sensation especially as a result of cold or anesthesia

2: devoid of emotion : indifferent

Mr. Wilson’s annual “12^th day Party” or spinoff of his birthday celebration (which actually takes place on the 2^nd of January every year) will be taking place this Saturday and it requires the creation of some culinary nibbles . . . good thing somebody woke out of his coma (even the great prophet Moses couldn’t fix Mr. Wilson’s feeble attempts at prodding food into some entitlement as an edible meal)  A brief grocery list will be devised but until then I’m thinking fish-n-chips as I have a case of potatoes & a boatload of halibut scraps in the freezer.   

Fish-n-Chips Recipe

Ingredients

For the fries:

• 1 gallon safflower oil
• 4 large Russet potatoes
• Kosher salt

For the batter:

• 2 cups flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• Dash Old Bay Seasoning
• 1 bottle brown beer, cold I like to use a smoked porter
• 1 1/2 pounds firm-fleshed whitefish (tilapia, pollock, cod), cut into 1-ounce strips
• Cornstarch, for dredging

Directions

Heat oven to 200 degrees F.

Heat the safflower oil in a 5-quart Dutch oven over high heat until it reaches 320 degrees.
Using a V-slicer with a wide blade, slice the potatoes with the skin on. Place in a large bowl with cold water.
In a bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, cayenne pepper, and Old Bay seasoning. Whisk in the beer until the batter is completely smooth and free of any lumps. Refrigerate for 15 minutes. Note: The batter can be made up to 1 hour ahead of time.
Drain potatoes thoroughly, removing any excess water. When oil reaches 320 degrees, submerge the potatoes in the oil. Working in small batches, fry for 2 to 3 minutes until they are pale and floppy. Remove from oil, drain, and cool to room temperature.
Increase the temperature of the oil to 375 degrees. Re-immerse fries and cook until crisp and golden brown, about 2 to 3 minutes. Remove and drain on roasting rack. Season with kosher salt while hot and hold in the oven.
Allow oil to return to 350 degrees. Lightly dredge fish strips in cornstarch. Working in small batches, dip the fish into batter and immerse into hot oil. When the batter is set, turn the pieces of fish over and cook until golden brown, about 2 minutes. Drain the fish on the roasting rack. Serve with malt vinegar.

A Lesson Unwrapped, Giving the Gift of Oneself, Almond Fortune Cookies

“I was not designed to be forced. I will breathe after my own fashion. Let us see who is the strongest.”
― Henry David Thoreau

On Christmas Eve, 2011
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82cydCLPgKI&feature=related
So exactly what is Christmas? A Hallmark bastardized evangelical holiday of retail explosion? An opportunity for our society to assign one little day out of 352 to actually come together as a family “unit” for a good dose of guilt & affection, an annual trip down memory lane, a persuasive invitation to partake in a thoughtful-n-thoughtless gift exchange? The majority of us hardly cling to religious indoctrinated mandates. Kids are more likely to be drawn towards candy & x-box than a cross & prayer; good ole’ Santa Claus and his slavedeers kickin-it with the Cantebury egg bearing Easter Bunny as our savior Jesus Christ fixes them another round of Mango Mojitos. I myself, have long since abandoned the ideals of a monolithic church (although God & I do chat occasionally . . or more like, a veteran wedding couple cursing at each other) and in the light of Buddhism … my beliefs are that is your one and only life, the gifts are to found in everyday occurrences and it’s exactly your choice whether or not to take notice, whether or not to give freely or expect reciprocation. Happiness the goal of attainment.

Eight foot tall Blue Spruces sawed off at the expense of a century old Tatenbaum tradition, slurps of viscous eggnog, slices of commercialized pumpkin pie, Nat King Cole melodies, stockings hanging from a fireplace-less, eggshell-white painted drywall . . . the attributes are within the intent & more practically exposed by the benefit of a lasting custom that will undoubtedly never fade – too much money to be had . . . you can take the God out of the Gift, but you can’t take the Gift out of God (Allah, Buddha, Jehovah, Yahweh, Jah, Holy Spirit, Mother Nature, Almighty or whatever you believe it to be).

I’m not trying to paint a negative connotation around this Holly holiday – it does a damn good enough job without my cynical input. I think whence you unwrap all of that shiny, glitterized & bowtied shit, you’ll find that most materialistic expressions lack any real shelf-life and the true inspiration of gratitude & instantaneous infatuation fades as fast as an American Idol contestant. I’m gonna throw it out there that maybe ten thousand people out of the 6,840,507,000 billion actually took the time and effort to whittle an artisan quality, burlwood maple salad bowl or stitched and bitched together a hand-crafted quilt for a loved. No, not likely . . . I’d be a hypocrite to say that I did much else other than refrain from participating in this obligatory exchange all together with the exception being gifts for my nieces & nephew . . . and I’d be remise to withhold from you that I assembled quite the heartfelt, romantic package for my Aussie lover . . . it never made it to the post office (intuitive hesitation you could say) but I’ll share with you the contents for the purpose of redeeming myself in the act of creating your gifts:

1.)One hand-made card with words of the heart – a symbol via a poem I wrote eleven years ago that pretty much spot on describes him and how we’d feel together if we ever met

2.)One eighteen year old, stuffed animal platypus from my childhood (named Charlie) – a symbol of my playful childhood demeanor & the seemingly known fate to be found in Australia

3.)One rare succulent that would grow with time, threw drought or famine – a symbol of that which could endure any hardship and prosper with a pair of nurturing attentive hands

4.)One pair of really too cool leather sneakers – a symbol of the separation yet possibilities, each of us having to two feet to carry us in any direction we choose, our footprints easy to follow or walk hand in hand along any journey.

5.)One bottle of Conundrum Sauvignon Blanc Wine – a symbol of our first dinner (day two) and the spontaneous nature of our meeting, the living in the moment lifestyle, the laughter, easy flowing conversation & pleasured smiles to be shared over many more dinners.

6.)Wisconsin hometown nibbles – including some Chocolate Caper artisan chocolates (there’s a story there) cashew brittle, and of course, cheeses of all sorts -symbols of the those little favorite things we’d yet to learn about each other

7.)Last but not least, a dream journal – you see, he has vivid dreams and so, I took my own journal from 1999-2000 and cut out all of my rough drafts (from which I had painted canvas in oil & acrylic), sketches, poems & a few excerpts, pasting them throughout and scribbling a few thoughts here or there. It was/is titled “an imaginary, wonderful world by LR” Yesterday’s blog sums it up as I was putting the final touches to my piece de resistance (seven days ago) – my intuitive dumb-ass sensed this gift wouldn’t be making the trip to Melbourne.

The final present, one of those little mobile cameras that I attached to my labtop for the purpose of updating my technological capabilities and more importantly; Skype allowing us the ability to see each other as we conversed. . . a symbol of no matter the distance, no matter the challenge – we’d find a way. Whence the communication channels were opened up (lol – Diamonds & Pearls just came on), I confronted my premonitions with him and certified his need for space, a break, a timeout, things were moving too fast (yes, that’s right LOL – we’re separated by a big ass body of water called the Pacific Ocean but apparently that’s too close LOL, oh boy – LOL)! Now, you might think – “that’s way over the top, Scotty’s pathetically in love, excessive too excessive, you’re gonna freak him out (if so: mission accomplished) or how absolutely romantic, I wish someone would do that for me?”

The truth be told, I don’t need anyone else’s approval or jaded doubts of what is or isn’t right when comes to my emotions– that package, my words, my thoughts are of pure, good intention and like our time spent together . . . I enjoyed every minute of assembling it, conceiving each element in honoring my desires to make him happy, to put a smile on his face, to touch his heart like nobody else has ever done. In so doing – it was just as much a gift to myself!

Giving & Receiving: an equal exchange is not likely to transpire so one must hold tight to the principal of “it was the thought that counts” But even that very thought fails to truly inspire the true meaning of giving . . . I mean that involves some “intuitive” thought that you’re going to get something in return! How about just giving for the sake of giving with no expectation of receiving?

Another Citibank MasterCard already maxed to the hilt, the presents stashed in tow below the Mary Kay camouflaged Christmas tree, this year chalked up to yet another status-quo Holiday at the Wagners . . . perhaps this coming year of 2012 you’ll make an effort to embrace a refreshed perspective on the gift of giving? Maybe you could celebrate this philosophical tradition daily . . . all 352 days of the year, the gift of yourself . . . present enough?

Happy Holidays to All,
Chef Scotty

The FORTUNE found WITHIN: Recipe for Almond Fortune Cookies
This make for a great homemade gift for a party, an unexpected "thanks for being in my life" a wedding rehearsal dinner at "Wok with Me" You'll burn the shit out of your fingertips but gain so much pleasure & acknowledgement for your sweetness. Note: you can also dip these in dark chocolate for a touch more class & decadence but make sure you keep this tightly wrapped up - moisture will make em' soft!

Ingredients:
fortunes printed on 3 x 3/4" thin papers (I write these by hand, mix'em up with humor, memories, inspired quotes, ridiculous prophecies, etc.)
3/4 cup unbeaten egg whites
1 2/3 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup melted butter
1 cup flour
3/4 cup finely chopped blanced almonds
1/2 teaspoon each of vanilla & almond extract

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine and mix egg whites, sugar and salt until sugar is dissolved. Stir in separately and beat until well blended the butter, flour, almonds and flavoring. Drop the dough in tablespoons, well apart, onto an ungreased baking sheet.

Bake about 10 minutes or until the edges are golden brown. Mold cookie (curl) over a wooden spoon handle. Insert fortune paper in each cookie letting part of the paper project. Pinch the ends of the roll closed while the cookie is still warm.

This Fool's for U, Odyssey of Oceania, Firepit Fish-n-Chips

“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.