Howdy folks,
I'll refrain from discussing what I typically have for breakfast out here in the Afghan wastelands, but when we go camping, we have a regular menu so to speak.
I usually get up just before dawn. Since it’s fall, the air will be brisk, my breath will be visible in the waning moonlight. I'll rummage around through the stack of firewood and kindling I laid up the night before looking for the right combination of twigs to restart the fire. Last night, 'fore going to bed, I banked the coals and laid a big hunk of wood against it. That way, in the morning, regardless of weather, I would be sure to find hot coals beneath the log. It doesn't take long for me to get a proper fire built again. Usually the snapping and crackling will get the Mrs awake and I'll hear her moving about getting ready. By then, I will have set the blue enamel coffee pot on the stones I had set in the pit earlier. While I wait for the milk to get hot, I'll set the skillet in place and go roust the kids up. That takes some doing.
I set aside potatoes I cooked last night, and now I put them next to the coals to heat up. Nothing like hot potatoes to fill you up and keep you going!
I'll check the milk to make sure it doesn't burn, and add the chocolate to it. (I haven't figured out a way to make Lattes while camping...) I'll stir that with a clean stick until the chocolate is all mixed in and the milk is steaming. Usually I will have split a log in two and made me a little flat place to set hot items. Pouring a hot cup, I'll go to the tent where the Mrs is waiting, and hand it to her. It's our little camping thing. She'll take a sip, hand it back to me, and I'll help her out of the tent to sit by the fire while I get breakfast going.
The skillet is good and hot when I dump the bacon on there. It'll sizzle and spit and pop, complaining the whole time. Eggs follow soon thereafter, golden yellow globes reflecting the now rising sun. The Mrs by now is cajoling the boys out of the tent, their sleepy countenances telling us they would rather be inside their sleeping bags, but the smell of bacon in the cool air is just enough to keep them awake. Mom makes them a cup of chocolate, and they sit by the fire staring as folks are wont to do at the dancing flames and glowing coals.
I'll turn the potatoes a few more times, flip the eggs and drain the bacon while the Mrs gets all the plates and silverware ready. I've already sneaked a piece of bacon or two, so I'm good for a couple of more minutes while the boys tuck into their food. The Mrs and I wait, enjoying the air, the trees, the boys eating and softly speaking about one thing or another. Finally, sure that all is as it should be, I'll serve up a couple of more plates for she and I.
Best regards,
Albert “The Afghan” RaschReal Men Hunt
