Going Dutch is always in style
Roy Heilman
This week, let’s look at some old fashioned cooking, and a method that can make you look like a wizard of a camp chef. Here’s a hint: it’s not electric, gas powered, or even plastic.
What I have in mind can help you bake a cake in a fire pit. With it, you could make breakfast for a dozen in less than an hour, with minimal preparation. And you can accomplish all this and much more with just one piece of equipment.
It’s the Dutch oven, and I’m sure you’ve heard of it. But have you used one?
Dutch ovens come in many forms, like other cookware. Where it comes to outdoor cooking, we’re normally talking about the black, seasoned-metal type with legs and a flat top.
If the rumors are true, Paul Revere is responsible for the legs and lid shape. Lewis and Clark reportedly brought one on their famous expedition. No doubt many thousands hitched rides on wagons headed across the frontier, in land rushes and cattle drives.
Dutch ovens, to me, are inextricably tied to the scouting experience. They sometimes come out when it’s time to make a fun dessert, or even show off a little. The method is also presented as part of the famous/infamous Cooking merit badge, though I’d contend it could easily have a merit badge all its own.
I’ve been inspired in the last year to revisit the Dutch oven. Funny enough, it began while camping without one.
My brother brought some oven strudels along on our prairie chicken hunt, to try and cook over the fire somehow. The best we could come up with was a foil enclosure, which worked decently. How much better, we said, a Dutch oven might have worked.
When the whole family was together a few weeks later on MEA weekend, I showed up with more strudels for the Dutch oven that’d been sitting lonely on a shelf for some time. The plan was to forego the usual charcoal briquets, as chunky coals of paper birch promised to be a good substitute.
It totally worked. A little oil in the bottom of the oven kept the pastries from sticking. A generous spread of those birch coals under and on top of it provided enough heat without being too much.
Buoyed by that culinary coup, I tried a cake the next night. Heavy-duty foil lined the vessel, which would allow the cake to be lifted out at the end. I oiled that foil, as it seemed a reasonable precaution.
A yellow cake mix was the starting point, prepared according to instructions. After pouring the batter into the oven, we hastily distributed spoonfuls of cherry pie filling throughout. We also gave it a sprinkling of sugar to make a sweet, crunchy crust on top (I never claimed this was health food).
How was it? Let’s just say there are few greater pleasures than eating warm, sugar-encrusted, slightly fried, cherry-plop cake next to the fire on a starry October night.
In a general way, this seems a good template to bake anything in a Dutch oven in rustic fashion. Some judgment may be required to tailor the method to various conditions and food items. To anyone who might attempt it, I’d only warn that it can take a while to burn logs down to useful coals.
The use of store-bought charcoal briquets is decidedly less rustic. One benefit would be shorter and easier preparation of the coals. For more scientifically-minded individuals, a known number of briquets also helps dial in the method and repeat good results.
“Good results” was my ballpark goal Memorial Day weekend, when I segued into the breakfast sector. Nine family members was a good number for something called “mountain man breakfast.” It’s basically an egg bake made in cast iron, the original non-stick cookware.
There are many variations of the mountain man available online, but it’s always simple. Eggs, bulk sausage, hash brown potatoes, and cheese comprise the essential building blocks. My version used a dozen eggs, two pounds of hash browns, one pound of bulk sausage, and a heap of shredded cheddar. I added a diced red bell pepper to the hash browns. Onions would have worked well, too.
The first step was to cook the sausage. After that was done, the sausage was removed and leftover grease employed to start the hash browns. Knowing how much lubrication those need, I added a generous pour of canola oil (again, maybe don’t mention this to my doctor).
Once underway, the meal attracted the attention of everyone who would eventually eat it. One by one, they all slipped shoes on to come out and see what was happening. Surely they’d all seen hash browns in a skillet before. Maybe the smell of excitement in the air was what drew them in.
With the potatoes cooked, the sausage went back and beaten eggs filled all the voids. Cheese went on last before the lid. I distributed a couple dozen charcoals across the top, with slightly fewer underneath. It only took about 25 minutes to reach melted, bubbly perfection.
The reception was universally warm, if not enthusiastic. There were no leftovers.
Even better than the main dish were the crusty bits scraped out with a metal flipper. Cleanup required only a little more scraping and a few wipes with a paper towel.
Sooner than later I’d like to make another cake. I have a yellow cake mix in the cupboard, and some canned peach slices to drop in. Got plans to make a cinnamon & sugar crust on top, and to wolf it still warm with some vanilla ice cream.
You got a better idea? Let me know how it goes. Better yet, let me know when and where, and save me a plate. I won’t believe it until I see it with my own tongue.
Roy Heilman is a food-obsessed Minnesota writer and outdoorsman. Keep up with his adventures at neveragoosechase.com.