Camping Food Done Right

Catherine Newman
Eating is my favorite part of car camping, and I can tell you that I did not feel this way when we were young people backpacking our earnest way across the Sierras. Those were the days of freeze-dried something-or-other that was always rehydrating awkwardly in our bellies because we'd wolfed it down too soon and too fast. Those were the days of too much jerky, too little yumminess, no cold beer, and a dreaded implement we called "the dung trowel." What were we thinking?

Because now we are all about the good camping food -- which doesn't mean we're always or ever especially fancy about it. In the ravenous fresh air, a hot dog browned and blistered on its stick is as good a meal as you're likely to eat anywhere. As is cheese melted stinkily on a log near the open fire and served with boiled potatoes and cornichons -- our camper's version of the French dish raclette. We fry bacon on thick sheets of foil (crimp the edges up so the fat doesn't run off and catch fire), we roast potatoes and corn in the coals, we prepare various camp classics featuring the word "hobo" in their names, because what could be more enticing than the culinary output of penniless train-riding vagabonds?

We eat and eat, with a kind of righteous ravenousness born of the great outdoors: chips and salsa, crackers and cheddar, sandwiches of goat cheese, cucumbers, and fresh dill. In the mornings we sit with our muesli and our smoky fire-brewed espresso and watch the sun glittering on the pond through the trees. Under the stars, we pop corn and roast marshmallows and gaze sleepily into the flames. One year, on my husband's birthday, we even steamed lobsters in an enormous pot and ate them, dripping with butter, off of paper plates. And when it rains, there are always the clam shacks, where we stall over steamers and fried bellies and onion rings and wait for it to let up. But mostly we cook, and the three recipes below are the ones we return to over and over. If you eat them with a tent and a roaring fire and lots of gigantic clacking beetles nearby, they will be mind-bogglingly fantastic, but here's a secret: you could actually make them at home on your gas grill or in your fire place, and they'd still be good. Excellent, even.

The Packing Lists

A milk crate packed with:
•Stove and fuel •Matches •Pot with lid •Cast iron frying pan •Wooden spoon, spatula, tongs •Can opener •Pie iron •Metal espresso maker •Mini cutting board and knife •Half-pint jelly jars with lids (to drink from, measure in, hold bouquets, and store leftovers) •Metal or plastic plates and bowls •Paper plates (for when you can't bear to wash dishes) •Mugs •Forks, spoons, knives •Heavy-duty foil •Paper towels •Sealable plastic bags •Wash basin •Sponge and eco-friendly dish liquid •Dish towel •Trash bags •Oilcloth tablecloth •Candle for the table

A large plastic bin packed with:
•5-gallon jug of water •Coffee and tea •Sugar •Olive Oil •Salt •Smoked paprika and black pepper •Hot sauce •Oatmeal and granola •Marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate •Couscous (premeasured in a sealable plastic bag) •Canned Beans •Canned tomato sauce and paste •Bread and buns •Peanut butter •Jam •Ketchup and mustard (if you forget, swipe a few packets from a restaurant) •Onions and garlic •Chips and salsa •Crackers

A cooler packed with ice and:
•Cheese •Milk •Butter •Fruit, lemons •Veggies (cukes and zukes) •Fresh herbs •Eggs •Bacon •Hot dogs •Beer and wine

Catherine Newman is the author of the memoir Waiting for Birdy and writes for many different magazines, including FamilyFun, O: The Oprah Magazine, and Body + Soul. She writes a weekly food and parenting column, "Dalai Mama Dishes," on family.com, and wrote "Bringing Up Ben and Birdy" on babycenter.com. Her work has been published in lots of anthologies, including the New York Times bestselling The Bitch in the House. She lives in Amherst, MA, with her family.