Exploring: the relationship between beans and camping.

To boldly go where only squirrels and elk have gone before requires a set of very LARGE number 10 tin cans.  And that means beans.  Beans, baby, beans.  My desire to relive Girl Scout H.E.A.V.E.N. (my favorite thing was making an egg and toast on a buddy burner and a No. 10 tin can stove) necessitated a visit to Costco, where I scored gallon-sized cans of green beans, tomato sauce, ranch-style beans, and chilli.  What could possibly be campier?  Not much.

Being incapable of waiting for a legitimate occassion to serve this food to a small army, I immediately busted out the green beans.  Because I LIKE green beans.  Saute some onions in there, and you've got a meal.  A meal that not everyone appreciates, but it works for me.  Add some bacon, and I think anyone would be pretty happy.  But I didn't.  I'm a frickin' saint.  The green beans were tasty, healthy, inoffensive, and really unobjectionable on every level.  They lasted like 5 days and I think I lost a pound.  And I got my first camping "stove."  I removed BOTH ends of the can, bought a cast-iron diffuser-type thing to use as a top/burner for my sweet new red-enamel coffee pot and my cast-iron frying pan/deep dish combo, and I've got a kick-ass stove top for one of my new buddy burners.  In theory, because I haven't tried any of this yet.  But now that I think of it, doesn't it seem like a GREAT idea to try frying an egg on this rig in the morning?  Let's let that idea marinate and I'll let you know.

No. 10 can number 2, was an inoccuous tomato sauce that went onto some penne and will be seen on some chicken and rice with onion soup this weekend.  Too boring to merit much discussion.  I made a traditional tin can stove with this baby -- 3"-wide flap on the bottom and 5 triangle bottle-opener vents near the top.  I can cook my egg directly on the top of this bad boy.  But will it last?  Who cares, I can always buy another can of green beans.

No. 10 can number 3.  Now here's where we run into a bit of a thing.  This can was "ranch-style" pinto beans.  The bastards.  It's beans with a sauce composed mainly of beef fat.  What.  The.  Hell.  And the result (even after draining off the fat sauce) is something a little less severe than, but similar to, brussel sprouts and cauliflower mixed with alcohol in the rain while camping.  It's less severe, but of apparently limitless duration.  Lola and I are using the new tower fan in the bedroom.

And that leaves me with No. 10 can number 4.  Chilli.  (Do that whistle from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly here.)  Chilli.  I'll let you know when I work up the nerve to open up this can of whoop-my-ass.

Maybe I'll save it for camping.  :-)