01 April, 2013

hors d'ouvre

By coincidence and design, our big loop is going to intersect in space and time with the wanderings of a few of our friends. We hope to meet the Stevenses (does anybody know the correct plural of Stevens?) for a few days in the Pilbara, and spend several weeks with the Lamonts in the Kimberley. Our trip will also intersect in time, but not space, with the Hills and Joyces who will be traveling through Arnhem Land with the Lamonts while we head back through the centre.

Last weekend, to whet our appetites, we decided to muster all the wannabe bushies at our homestead for a camp oven cookoff. We supplied the coals, everyone contributed a dish, and the end product was a great night of good food and big talk.

The rules for the night were "STRICTLY BUSH FOOD, none of yer fancy pantsy quail egg souffles nor chick pea and fenugreek frittatas!" but these rules were enthusiastically breached by everyone in an effort to out do each other in displays of camp cooking prowess.
Camp oven cookoff in full swing (note the safety boots)
Our own contribution was bedourie oven pizzas, including caramelised onion and blue cheese, and basil, olive and fetta alongside the more traditional ham and cheese. The Joyces conjured up a baked pumpkin extravaganza, the Paceys made a chook curry while the Hills threw some snags and kebabs on the barbie. For desert, Nic threw in a brownie and the Stevenses provided the most delicious 'snot block' this side of the black stump. It was so good that Rod had to have a second piece just to check he wasn't imagining the first, and then a third piece just to be sure.

The Lamonts were the only ones to play by the rules and brought a huge camp oven full of veges and sheep shanks. Sadly, the sheer mass of this meal meant that it took many hours to cook by which time we were all stuffed. On the bright side, Karin ended up with enough fodder for a month of school lunches.

All this epicureal toil was accompanied by the discordant melody of kids running around laughing and yelling and occasionally stopping long enough to stuff another sausage into their mouths. They gambolled about like deranged brumbies until eventually they halted, cowed and beaten, and their parents turned their heads for home while the embers faded to grey on the side lawn.
the spoils
We'll see ya when the dust settles!


2 comments:

  1. tjg04 April, 2013 09:08

    Nice story - we expect this quality the whole way around, as well as a daily diary of what you ate. Despite upsetting the Quail and Fenugreek Society I hope you pack the necessary supply of blue cheese - truckstops have a habit of forgetting to order it in. x

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    Replies
    1. Geoff04 April, 2013 09:41

      A daily diary of what we eat? Whether that will be interesting enough to warrant the effort depends on the outcome of the next meeting of our Kitchen Cabinet. At the moment the Minister for Finance, Home Affairs and Tourism and I have each got submissions on the notice paper regarding menus. My submission is based on a delusional view of myself as an extraordinary hunter, gatherer and campfire cook and consists mainly of items such as freshly butchered kangaroo steaks lightly seared in a Davidson's plum jus accompanied by a freshly dug yams, a warragul greens salad and a camp oven foccacia. Hers, tempered by the practicalities of what we might be able to buy and store on the track, consists mainly of items such as sausages, potatoes and whatever veges we can get our hands on.

      I guess the outcome of the meeting is a foregone conclusion.

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