If I'm not in a CG with tables, I get my stool, and cook on the lid of my right PelCase. My stove is a grand old Optimus hunter; self-contained, stable, and always willing. I usually fill the tank (white gas or Coleman fuel) and the small or large Sigg bottle, depending on how long I'm going to stay out. I use flatter pots than most of my contemporaries; the larger diameter makes for better heat transfer. I make a special sacrament for the first-timers visiting Grand Staircase; Escalante First Night Soup. A hearty brew using fresh vegies, chorizo (don't read the label) brown rice, olive oil, terragon, etc. Always well-received by the initiates. I have a small bottle of olive oil along, and a minimal cookset, including a knife for slicing, a small plastic cutting board, and a bamboo spatula. Heating water is the first task I tackle after lubing my chain. If the Sunshower wasn't deployed on top of my load early enough in the afternoon, hot water to wash up with. Then the meal; sometimes ramen or Noodles & Sauce (I'm getting hungry here!), or the stuff I bought at noon in the grocery store. I always begin by warming a little oil in the pot - Stainless steel isn't as forgiving as my good ol' cast iron back in Milford. Soon as the main dish is in the bowl, I quickly wipe out the pot, and start some hot water for cleanup, coffee, tea, etc. I don't carry a perculator; I use a round coffee filter and a piece of cotton twine to make a kind of tea bag; so I can brew that magnificent Paquet Rouge that J C Ledbetter sends me from Louisiana. I carry a tiny fold-up backpacker's grille, in case I need to cook in the tent; keeps the stove from toasting the floor (or my companion's new Hein jacket).
If it's cool at night, I'm going to make some hot mush in the morning, so I leave the pot and stove where it's handy. After-dinner cleanup and hand-washing is rather important if there's racoons about, as when I went to Bandalier, in NM. I wouldn't have minded them looting my leftovers, if they'd done so quietly, BUT NOOOO! They had to discuss it, and celebrate! One even unzipped my tank bag and threw my Personal Oganizer on the ground looking for a snack. I took that s**t for about an hour, then got up, honored their spirits, and flamed them with dog repellent. Problem solved. I have nothing at all against wildlife if they'd just be quiet.
I'm a cranky old man, and sometimes my eyeballs go boing at 3AM. I've learned the hard way that thrashing about in my bag and trying to force sleep to return is an exercise in futility. I'll get up and drain my noodle, then make a cup of tea (of course I washed my hands!), and write down my thoughts in the spiral notebook, or look over the map.
In my travels, I've come to realize that What I Ate stays with me as much as anything; there's something about exploring that makes the simple activities stand out. I've traveled with guys that stayed alive on energy bars and soft drinks. I rather pride myself as a practitioner of gastronomic civility out on the prairie. Besides, energy bars send my blood sugar through the sky. That's another thing; the onset of diabetes hasn't changed much about the way I travel. Just load up a stack set with pills, keep my Humulin N from roasting in the sun, and I'm good to go. Doesn't eat up many cubic inches in my duffel; I MUST TRAVEL.
In summation, a nodding tribute to the IBMC: the International Brotherhood of Motorcycle Campers. BoborBruce Halleran got me into that org: mostly Goldwingers and trailer draggers BUT. If Linda or Michelle show up they make a dutch oven cobbler that's worth going, if thats all you do, just eat the cobbler and return home. Now a joke: Do you know why the Brits don't build TVs or VCRs? Answer: They can't figure a way to get them to leak oil.
