Camp Stories: Must-Have Camping Gear and Best Hacks

Getting ready to go camping means making lists. Lots of them. Gear, cooking utensils, food, first aid supplies, dog food and, at least for us, cocktail fixings.

Paella over the fire, anyone?

As I've mentioned before in this series, we're what is known as "car campers" so we eschew freeze-dried packets for fresh ingredients that'll be prepped and cooked at the campsite, whether over the fire or on our trusty Coleman campstove. So paring down to the lightest, most essential gear isn't always the point, especially now that Dave has become a devotée of all things cast iron.

Need a side table? Improvise!

Recently it occurred to me that it might be valuable to share our decades-in-development list of staples for those of you just beginning your camping journey, or if you've reached that point when you're ready to trade in your backpacking tents and sleeping pads for a double bed-sized blowup mattress. (Welcome to the club!) The suggestions below are, of course, in addition to tents, sleeping bags, camp chairs, stove, headlamps, etc., etc. And I'd love it if you'd add your own must-have camping necessities in the comments below.

Gear

Camp table, lidded storage bins: An indispensible part of our kitchen gear is a simple folding table where we can get our supplies off the ground and easily accessible without squatting while you're rummaging to find which bin the silverware is in. Lidded bins are also easily stackable, water and critter-proof and the lids make handy cutting boards and serving trays.

High Sierra (cup) martini.

Waterproof tablecloth: I still have my parents' green vinyl camp tablecloth that has covered every campsite picnic table during decades of family outings. (There's even a minor slash from when I was in high school and sliced vegetables without a cutting board. Sorry, Mom.) It cleans easily, and makes those sometimes funky campsite picnic tables more presentable.

Sierra cup: This old-school backpacking cup (above left) was purchased on one of our very first camping trips and is now a requisite piece of gear. Handy for drinking, dipping water out of hot pots, and even as a spare cocktail glass, it hangs at the ready over the back of our decades-old campstove.

No steaks in the firepit, thanks!

Folding campfire grill: It may look flimsy, but this over-the-campfire grill can be used over the fire, or can fold flat to use for cooking over the sometimes gross firepit grates. It also helps position items over the fire with more finesse, can stop hot dogs from falling through the widely spaced camp grates, or when you need to extend grill space (e.g. for steaks and corn for 10…we've done it!).

Cast iron frying pan: A well-seasoned frying pan is a thing of beauty, and Dave keeps ours in prime condition. Goes from campstove to fire easily.

Cast iron griddle: Again, seasoning is the key (top photo). Great for batches of fried eggs, hash browns, pancakes, etc.

The best pot for baking in the wild.

Cast iron Dutch oven: Large and heavy, but if you love to bake out in the woods, it's indispensible. (Mostly for advanced users or inveterate bakers.) Also great for heating up dinners for a crowd over the fire.

Hatchet: Because camping requires fires. (Duh.)

Long-handled metal spatula and tongs: You're probably going to be cooking over the fire (steaks!), so these are a necessity.

Leather fireplace gloves: Handling hot pans, placing logs on the fire. Thank me later.

Cocktail bag: Once again, a brilliant idea from our friend Keith, the MacGyver of the campsite. He stocks an open-topped canvas gear bag with fifths of booze, using smaller lidded bottles for vermouth, etc., with tiny dropper bottles for bitters and other flavoring agents. Utensils and other accoutrements go in the outside pockets.

A variation on the propane camp lantern.

Three-candle lantern: Keith has become inordinately fond of this three-candle lantern over the Coleman propane-powered version, though I think Dave might argue over that choice.

Hacks

Zip line: Keeping dogs contained within a campsite is tough, but Keith turned us on to an easy zip line made from a rope strung between two trees with small carabiners clipped onto it and that you can then clip to the loops of the dog's leash. Can also double as a clothesline, as long as you don't have a super active dog.

Three Corgis, one zip line might be pushing it.

Hot water dispenser: Made from a 2.5-gallon water container with a spigot, this was a brilliant hack Dave came up with last year and has made washing dishes and hands a dream. You'll need to empty the container first, which usually happens the first day in our case, what with filling pots for hot water, cooking and drinking. The ones we get are made of lighter plastic (like the stuff used for milk jugs), so it's easy to slice around the front three sides near the top, leaving the back attached as a hinge. Put it on the table with the spigot over a dishpan on the bench, pour in some hot (but not boiling!) water and, voilà, hot running water!

Dish scrubber: Cooking over fire often causes food to stick stubbornly to pans, and in the absence of a scrubber pad, Keith uses a short piece of thin, flat wood with the end squared off to scrape off any burned-on gunk. Brillz.

Click to read more Camp Stories, including recommended campgrounds, sites and easy recipes that'll please everyone.

Camp Stories: Sublimely Quiet Fourth on Mt. Hood

It was time for our annual pilgrimage to the Northwest's national forests over the Fourth of July, not to celebrate the birth of our nation or the gifts that we gave ourselves in setting aside these national treasures, but to get the heck out of Dodge (i.e. PDX) while it resembled the set of a blockbuster war movie starring Vin Diesel and The Rock striding through mortar fire and clouds of smoke. We leave our beloved city when it sheds its politically correct, tree-hugging, sustainably sourced coat and turns into an explosives-fueled version of the Amish "rumshpringa" where adolescents are allowed to run wild—the word apparently translates to "jumping or hopping around," which accurately describes the reactions of our panicked pets to the booms and pops.

Creek walkin' Corgis.

So rather than drugging them into a stupor for several days before and after the event, years ago we opted to head for the hills—literally—since fireworks are strictly banned in national parks, enforced by vigilant camp hosts, no doubt drilled with slide shows of last year's fireworks-ignited Eagle Creek fire, which burned for three months and destroyed more than 50,000 acres.

What was that about "roughing it"?

Our backpacking days long over, "car camping" has now morphed into "pickup camping" since dogs, gear, food, drink, people and several large pieces of cast iron cookware won't fit in the Mini Clubman-and-cartop-carrier, which had already been dubbed a clown car-like affair by friends who witnessed the amount of stuff that tumbled from it. So we pulled into our reserved site at Camp Creek campground just off the Mt. Hood highway past Zigzag, set for four nights of blissful, off-the-grid quiet.

Chillaxin' around the fire.

When we can, we like to choose a site along a stream, the better to provide hours of creekside reading, as well as white noise to drown out any sound from passing traffic. (In our experience, during the summer months even relatively isolated campgrounds can have a fair amount of this.) My "top sites" suggestion for this quiet campground is number 10 along the creek at the less-traveled end, or number 14 at the opposite end, with both sites large enough for two tents if, like us, you're camping with friends. Both also have good creek access, and if you have a three or four families camping together, I'd try to reserve sites 14 and 15, which can accomodate several tents and are open enough to each other to facilitate common activities.

Natural. Beauty.

We didn't do any crazy cooking experiments this trip, contenting ourselves with tried-and-true variations on my pork posole rojo, pasta with pea shoot pesto and some of Dave's campfire scones and griddled hash browns and eggs. He's jonesing to make a cobbler and brownies, though, so stay tuned for future posts containing those recipes.

Otherwise our time was taken up with walks in the woods, reading by the creek and long evenings with the only crackling and popping coming from the logs on the fire.

Read more Camp Stories featuring great Northwest campgrounds, recipes and hikes.

Camp Stories: Kingfisher on Mt. Hood

As a native Oregonian, I'm sometimes embarrassed to admit that I haven't been to every corner of the state and seen every single sight from multiple angles. Such was the case several years ago when we finally decided it was high time to visit southeastern Oregon's magnificent Steens Mountains, staying in a double-wide trailer at the astonishingly beautiful Malheur Wildlife Refuge and gazing over the spare, parched landscape of the Alvord desert.

Sharing nature's wisdom. And sticks.

Closer to home, while we've tramped over a lot of Mt. Hood's forested east and west sides, I've somehow never managed to explore the area above Estacada on the road to Bagby Hot Springs. Fortunately a friend decided to organize camping trip to the area, and our group of five families was able to secure multiple reservations in the Kingfisher campground along the Collawash River.

Relaxing is the name of the game.

Small, with only 23 campsites, and fairly primitive—think narrow dirt track, unpaved sites, water from a pump, vault toilets and no electrical hookups—its basic nature scares away the big rigs with their generators and sound systems, but it was perfect for our veteran camping crew. Food was apportioned according to the talents and desires of each family, with dinners of hot dogs with trimmings the first night (Olympia Provisions and Old Salt Marketplace were featured), steaks the second night and, for those staying an additional night, it was "hobo packs" à la foil packets cooked in the fire (recipe here, perfectly adaptable for the home grill).

Steak night with the grill-master.

All the campsites are fairly private, well-spaced and screened from each other by trees, but the prime sites are those along the river, particularly sites 6, 8 and 10, which have nice shady stretches of river-front for setting up chairs and reading. When we were there, the river itself was pretty tame, with lovely shallow, wade-able stretches perfect for skipping rocks or for finding a perch midstream and contemplating the nature of the universe.

Who needs a stinkin' campstove?

If you're looking for some nice gear to add to your collection, I'd highly recommend a cast iron griddle for cooking pancakes, bacon, eggs and sausages over the fire. Dave threw together an ad-hoc stove from river rocks that MacGyver would approve of, though we've used it on the fire grate numerous times.

Fun with hammocks.

Another recent addition to our repertoire has been a nylon hammock. Simple to sling between a couple of trees and a must-have for a peaceful nap streamside, it's also sturdy enough for kids to play in (ours is rated for 500 pounds). Come to think of it, it might also be the perfect solution for teens who cringe at the thought of sleeping en famille.

Clocking in at just under two hours from Portland, this idyllic campground is justifiably described as a diamond in the rough and got the thumbs-up from everyone in the group. We'll definitely be adding it to our list of great spots for a quick weekend camping trip.

Read more Camp Stories including site recommendations, recipes and more!

Camp Stories: A Prescription for Peace of Mind

Feeling overwhelmed at work? The insanity of current politics stressing you out? Can't handle the barrage of social media a minute longer?

The Rx I'm recommending won't be found in a pill or a bottle, or by turning off the lights and pulling the covers over your head. I'm not even advising you to shut down your computer and turn off your devices.

Simply go where none of those screens will work, where your coworkers can't find you, where there's no news but the sun transiting your campsite, the trees shifting in the breeze and the sound of a creek chattering in the background.

For years we've been avoiding the war zone that erupts in the city over the Fourth of July by heading to a small national forest campground where fireworks and nighttime noise are strictly verboten, where our dogs don't need to be drugged and we can sleep in the dead quiet of a night so dark you can't see your hand waving in front of your face. But the real benefit, one we appreciated even more in this seemingly daily onslaught of "can you top this" craziness on the national political scene, is the peace, the quiet, the lack of demand for our attention other than cooking meals, washing dishes and the occasional call to sit by the creek and read a book.

Imagine that!

This year we managed to reserve a prime creek-side campsite at one of our favorite campgrounds, the aptly named Paradise Creek in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest just north of Carson, Washington. Small at just 42 sites and basic—vault toilets, dirt sites and a handled pump for water—it discourages large RVs and provides a modicum of simple activities like biking around the campground, playing in the creek and a few hikes nearby.

I'd made and frozen a batch of my Coney Island sauce and picked up some smoked dogs from Old Salt Marketplace, and then froze a pot of pork shoulder braised in tomatillo salsa—freezing as much as possible helps keep things cold as well as saves room in the ice chest—that we could warm up for dinners. A couple of steaks, Dave's scone mix to stir up and bake, breakfast and lunch fixin's and cocktail makings and we were set for our four-night stay.

Our neighbors Chad and Ann joined us for the second day, bringing their dogs and what turned out to be a spectacular camp dinner of shrimp, andouille sausage, corn and potatoes cooked in foil packets on the campfire coals (left and top photo). This is one I'll be making again here at home, since it's perfect for cooking on charcoal in the Weber. With a salad on the side and an ice-cold glass of rosé to sip, it's the definition of summer.

Good food, good drink, good friends, the basic necessities of life and a beautiful setting; it's a prescription for a good, stress-free life. I can't recommend it highly enough.

Shrimp, Andouille Sausage and Corn Campfire Packets
Adapted from Creme de la Crumb

1 lb. potatoes, cut into 1" cubes
2 ears sweet corn
1/2 lb. andouille sausage, sliced into 1/4" rounds
1 1/2 lbs. shrimp
1 Tbsp. minced garlic
3 Tbsp. olive oil
3 Tbsp. Old Bay seasoning (or make your own)
1 Tbsp. salt
Lemon wedges

Bring a medium saucepan of water to boil. Add potatoes and parboil 5 minutes. Drain.

Shuck the ears of corn and slice each one crosswise into four rounds. Stand each round on end and slice in half lengthwise. In large mixing bowl combine potatoes, corn, sausage and shrimp with garlic, olive oil, paprika, Old Bay seasoning and salt.

Cut four 12" squares (or so) of aluminum foil. Divide the shrimp mixture into quarters, putting each on a piece of foil (you can redistribute the number of ingredients in each packet to even them out). Seal the packets and place on coals. Cook for 10 minutes, turn them over and cook another 5-6 minutes. Take one packet out and test for doneness. Serve one packet per person with lemon wedges for squeezing over the top.

Find more great campground and recipe suggestions in the Camp Stories series.

Camp Stories: Brotherhood of the Travelin' Scones

It's no secret that the muse of Good Stuff NW and, frankly, much of the rest of my life, is my life's partner-in-crime, my husband of 35 years—almost 40 if you're counting from the time we began dating—the meat smoker, baker and cocktail-shaker who makes so many things so delicious around here. Early on we were avid backpackers, but our camping gear has ballooned to include glassware and a cast iron Dutch oven, to which was recently added a cast iron griddle so Dave can make even more incredible breakfasts over the campfire.

Heating the Dutch oven.

Baking has become a consuming passion for him, which means that every two weeks he's making six loaves of the most delicious sourdough bread from a starter he made himself—friends, feel free to chime in here with kudos—inspired by the amazing book by Chad Robertson, Tartine Bread. That means four loaves of white-with-a-pinch-of-wheat, and two loaves of whole wheat or whatever flour he's experimenting with (bags of barley and buckwheat have been seen lurking in the pantry lately).

Checking…

Whether it's a bread weekend or not, he's always got some additional baking he wants to do. And that includes weekends we're not even at home. No matter where we go now, from the forest to a beach house with a passle of friends, he brings along his flour, a dab of sourdough starter or some ingredient he needs to make bread or rolls or scones or pancakes or…you name it…whatever is possessing his attention at the moment. And, guaranteed, if he makes it, it will be good.

This is roughing it?

One of his go-to recipes at the moment is one for breakfast scones with currants or dried cranberries or whatever dried fruit hasn't been gobbled up in our family's constant foraging for snackage. Warm and fragrant, with a touch of sweetness that begs for a smear of honey or jam, that sunrise shape when it comes steaming out of the oven defines a perfect morning served with butter (or, in his case, a pat of margarine) and a hot, strong cup of coffee.

Currant Scones

3 c. (13 1/2 oz) whole wheat flour (or 2 c. all-purpose, 1 c. whole wheat)
5/8 oz. (20 g) cane sugar
3/4 oz (22 g) brown sugar
2 Tbsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
8 Tbsp. unsalted butter or margarine
1 c. milk
2 eggs
1/2 c. currants
Extra flour for forming dough

In a gallon zip-lock bag or other container, mix flour, both kinds of sugar, baking powder and salt. Bring along butter, milk, eggs and currants separately, along with parchment paper. If baking in a lidded Dutch oven (footed or one with a trivet/lid lifter), bring briquets and, if available, a laser thermometer. Good heavy welding gloves also come in handy for manipulating the hot cast iron. As a friend said, "Every project requires a tool budget."

To make the scones, put the dry ingredients in a mixing bowl and add the butter or margarine in 1/4" slices. Cut in with a fork or pastry cutter until the mixture is the texture of cornmeal. Stir the currants into the mixture. In a separate bowl, whisk the milk and eggs together. Stir the liquid into the dry mixture and mix until all the flour is moistened. Turn out the mixture onto a floured surface. Knead until the dough is smooth, about 25 kneads—this is a bit more handling than with biscuits. Form the dough into a ball.

Place the ball on a piece of parchment paper,and flatten it with your hands to form a round disk about 10" in diameter. With a bench scraper or a knife slice into  into wedges (we usually make 12 from this recipe) but don’t separate the wedges.

For baking in an oven:
Preheat oven to 375°. Put parchment paper on a baking sheet or rimmed baking pan. Form disk and cut wedges. Place in oven and bake until golden brown, 22-24 minutes.

For baking in a Dutch oven using briquets:
In a chimney starter or in the campfire, place a pile of briquets using this guide to determine the number of briquets needed. On a cleared space on the ground near your campfire ring—make sure there are no flammables nearby and that no people or pets will stumble into the dutch oven—spread about one-third of the briquettes evenly below the Dutch oven and two-thirds on the lid. After 30 to 45 minutes of preheating, remove the lid and, using the laser thermometer, check the temperature of the bottom of the oven. It should be between 350-375°. If it isn't up to temperature, remove any briquets that have burned out and replace them with fresh ones. Once the oven is up to temperature, lift the parchment with the scones (see oven method, above) and place them in the oven and cover with the lid. Every 10 minutes or so, turn the top lid a quarter turn to the right and the oven itself a quarter turn to the left for more even baking. Baking time may vary from a home oven, but check it at about 20 minutes and gauge timing from there.

Camp Stories: Camp Creek on Mt. Hood

Despite the fact that we'd heard nary a pop, whistle or boom in the days leading up to the Fourth of July this year—a friend admitted fantasizing that maybe, just maybe, the citizens of our fair city had finally awakened to the ridiculousness of turning their neighborhoods into reenactments of war movies—we were still bound and determined to head into the woods in case my friend's fantasy of a saner Fourth might not be forthcoming.

Assessing the campsite.

Most of the campgrounds that take reservations had been snatched up months before, and our traditional campground, Paradise Creek on the flanks of Mt. Adams, no longer allowed advance reservations on its preferred creekside sites. Plus we were hoping to stay a little closer to home this year, the better to avoid taking the dogs on a multi-hour trip in a hot car.

Morning wake-up.

We'd heard that the small Green Canyon campground on Mt. Hood, off a forest road outside of Rhododendron, might be worth scoping out, since all 15 sites are available on a first come, first serve basis. But Dave wanted to check out Camp Creek, too, since it was close to a cabin (Showers! Toilets!) that friends were staying at for the weekend. I was less than excited about its location, just off the very busy Mt. Hood Highway between Rhododendron and Government Camp. I could imagine the roar of 18-wheelers and the shrieking of air brakes casting a pall over our woodsy weekend.

Looking up.

But pulling off the highway we found ourselves immersed in the buffering company of tall old-growth Douglas firs and the babbling of Camp Creek itself, which provided a comforting screen of white noise that covered any disturbing rumbling that might leak through. We scooted into the last available non-reservable site on the far end of the camp loop, and Dave used his "Old Man pass"—a Senior Pass to National Parks and recreation areas—to get half off the nightly rate. Deal!

Cocktail hour.

After pumping up the air mattress and setting up the camp kitchen, it was time for cocktails by the fire followed by a walk down to the creek before dinner. I'd heard that the flow of the nearby Zigzag River was much reduced by the lack of snow over the winter, not to mention the dry spring weather, so I was a little surprised to find Camp Creek noisily pouring down from wherever its source was. Fallen trees created dams and waist-high holes, though wading up to our ankles was about as far as we and the dogs got in the icy creek.

Steaks on the fire.

A quiet night's sleep, coffee and breakfast next to the fire, and we were off to explore the Still Creek Trail, a fairly easy one-and-a-half-mile forested hike that starts with a walk over a beautiful wooden bridge at one end of the campground. With a couple of slight elevation gains as it climbs a hill, if you're there at the right time you might see salmonberries, occasional red huckleberries and little chipmunks skittering across your path.

Another hike is along the Pioneer Bridle Trail, a major mountain bike trail that parallels Hwy. 26 and which you can access at the entrance to the campground. Another option is taking the Still Creek Trail from the campground, turning left at the first roadway, then left again onto the Bridle Trail to go back to the campground. Of course you could decide to trek down the Bridle Trail to Tollgate Campground (a couple of miles one way) or a much more challenging hike as far as Government Camp, about seven miles on a rougher trail with a considerable elevation gain.

Strenuous activities aside, it's also completely pleasant to sit and read a book or nap at your campsite or by the stream. Your choice!

Find great suggestions for area campgrounds and camp cooking in the Camp Stories series.

Camp Stories: Return to Paradise

It was the Fourth of July and at 10 o'clock at night it was pitch dark and instead of sounding like a war zone, with booms, cracks, flashing lights and sulphurous clouds of smoke drifting across the battlefield of competing patriotic displays, all we could hear was the quiet burble of the Wind River as it rushed over rounded stones on its way to join the Columbia.

Camp cocktails? Yes, please!

Rather than having to drug our dogs, or watch them pant and shiver and pace through the conflagration—"Go outside? No thanks, I'll just hold it till tomorrow."—they were bedded down quietly at the other end of the tent we'd pitched at Paradise Creek campground in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest north of Carson, Washington.

Our annual pilgrimage, which had ballooned in past years to 14 people in five campsites but this year, for various reasons, numbered only five members in two sites, was a much simpler affair but no less delicious (or fun). While a big group of good friends has always been a blast, fewer people meant much less coordination, and led to simpler packing—salami and cheese instead of dozens of fresh oysters—and much more time reading in beach chairs streamside.

Cast iron-baked scones.

I'd wanted to try my hand at a campfire paella and Dave was itching to use his cast iron, footed Dutch oven to make scones using a perforated cast iron trivet to prevent scorching (left). And of course we had the usual fixings for negronis and martinis to help smooth any bumps in our mattresses at night.

The paella (top photo) was amazingly simple, since I used the frozen stock in place of one of the bags of ice in the freezer chest, and had simplified the list of main ingredients to chicken, frozen shrimp, olives and chorizo. Thanks to Dave's expert fire-building, the split dry fir from the "Camp Wood!" guys down the road burned down to a lovely bed of coals. A little sautéing over the fire, then adding the stock over the top and a half hour later—just enough time for a cocktail, thank you—dinner was ready.

Breakfast of champions.

The scones were a tour de force, and even Dave admitted that he was as surprised as anyone that they turned out so well. He'd mixed the dry ingredients at home, then added the rest at camp. Then it was flattening the dough, cutting it in segments, and putting it on parchment paper on the trivet in the bottom of the preheated Dutch oven. There was a little concern that the oven hadn't gotten up to temperature, but when the time was up he opened the lid and that flattened disk of dough had turned into perfectly light and fluffy scones. Needless to say, there was much oohing and aahing around the breakfast table.

And me? I'll take these kind of fireworks over the other kind any time.

For an idea of how to make paella on a campfire, check out my recipe for paella on the grill.

Camp Stories: Containing the Corgis

Thank goodness Facebook and Twitter didn't exist when I was a young parent. (For the record, Al Gore hadn't thought up the internet yet, either.) I would have been one of those people posting photos of my kid in his wading pool, grinning after losing his front teeth or making the winning soccer goal.

Relaxing by the fire (l to r: Kitty, Walker, Jeff, Hank).

You know how I know? Because I can't help posting pictures of my dogs now that my kid is all grown up and doesn't appreciate any need I might have to share his life with the world. (What's up with that?)

Which brings us to the photo at the top of Walker (left), Kitty (right) and their new friend Thimble (center), who was recently adopted by friends. They're pictured tethered to a zip line, a thin rope tied between two trees on the edge of the campsite (and out of reach of any fire pits or tangling opportunities), with their leashes attached to the rope by carabiners. The carabiners slide along the rope, giving them more freedom of movement than they'd have if they were tied to a tree. Plus it's easy to unhook the leashes if (who am I kidding…when) the leashes get tangled.

It was a great solution for us (thanks, K!) and one we'll be using on future trips.

Camp Stories: Chorizo, Chicken and Steak, Oh My!

Tea ceremonies. Church services. Thanksgiving dinner. Heck, even a game of Flip Cup. All rituals with their own processes and rhythms.

Just a little piperade, home-smoked bacon and polenta…for breakfast!

So it is with our annual Fourth of July Free-For-All camping extravaganza at Paradise Creek on the flanks of Mt. Adams. It starts with reserving our campsites at the crack of the new year in January to get our creekside spots. The first haphazard organizing starts in early June with e-mails going back and forth about head counts and guesses about the weather, really just an excuse to vent some excitement about the trip.

Fresh oysters? Don't mind if I do!

This year the group consisted of 11 adults, one toddler and five dogs sharing three campsites. Two of our regular crew couldn't make it, so two victims…um, I mean, friends…were asked if they'd like to come. A couple from San Francisco, they were city folk who'd never been camping before, and to everyone's amazement (and delight) they accepted.

Chorizo tacos…yum!

A week or so ahead of time there was a flurry of messages about what people were bringing, and one of the more organized among the group devised a loose menu. We volunteered a few pounds of Dave's home-smoked bacon and a few dozen eggs from a friend's chickens. I offered to make chorizo tacos the first night, since I'd run across some crazy good chorizo at the Beaverton Farmers' Market. Called Don Felipe, it's made by Salud and Angela Gonzalez in the style of their native Toluca, Mexico. It was paired with a cabbage slaw and local Don Froylan cotija cheese, all nestled in fresh handmade tortillas from Por Que No (at $3 a dozen, a steal).

Steak for 11? No problem!

A group that size meant there was a plethora of activities to choose from, including hiking, reading by the stream, playing board games, napping, going for a beer at Backwoods Brewing in Carson or just hanging out. There were several cocktail-meisters in the crew and all kinds of libations were shaken, stirred and poured into (gasp!) real glassware.

One evening's appetizer selection.

No slackers in the food department, there were fresh oysters shucked with French oyster knives, an Asian ramen salad sided a grilled-on-a-Weber marinated chicken and there was the obligatory "Steak & Corn Night." Each evening's appetizers ranged from salami to a borage flower-accessorized cheese platter to fig-accented chevre. This is a group that makes camping not just painless, but a true pleasure. Even our two newbs were convinced that sleeping on pads on the ground wasn't such a crazy thing to do…and they proved it by signing up for next year's trip.

Chorizo Tacos with Cabbage Slaw

Salud and Angela's Don Felipe red chorizo is made with dried red chiles and spices, with a deep but not intense heat. The green chorizo is an intriguing and uniquely Tolucan mix of spinach, serrano pepper, pumpkin seeds, garlic, onion and spices. It's also somewhat spicy and very lovely. You can buy it at the Beaverton Farmers' Market on Saturdays from 8 am to 1:30 pm or at the Forest Grove Farmers' Market on Wednesdays from 4 to 8 pm.

For the slaw:
1/2 head green cabbage
1/2 head purple cabbage
3 carrots, grated
1 c. mayonnaise
1/2 c. sour cream
2 Tbsp. rice vinegar
Salt to taste

For the tacos:
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
3 lbs. Don Felipe chorizo, or any fresh Mexican chorizo
1 onion, chopped fine
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 to 1 lb. cotija cheese, crumbled
3 dozen corn tortillas
Salsa, Crystal Hot Sauce or Czar's Pinot and Habanero Sauce

Slice each half cabbage lengthwise into quarters. Remove core by placing quarter on its side and slicing at an angle around the core. Slice quarter in half lengthwise, then slice it crosswise into thin shreds. Repeat with rest of cabbage. Place in large mixing bowl with shredded carrots. In a small bowl, combine mayo, sour cream, rice vinegar and salt. Stir until smooth, adjusting seasonings to taste (you can even add sugar, though I don't). Pour over cabbage and toss to combine.

Heat vegetable oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chorizo and sauté till browned. Add onion and garlic and sauté till tender. Briefly heat tortillas on cast iron griddle or skillet.

Fill tortillas with small amount of chorizo, slaw and a sprinkling of cheese, as well as sauce (if desired).

Read other Camp Stories in the series: last year's trip to Paradise Creek, Trout Creek Campground, Shadow Bay at Waldo Lake, LaPine State Park, Indian Crossing Campground, Frog Lake Campground, Patrick's Point State Park, Harris Beach State Park, Moss Creek Campground and our first trip to Paradise Creek.

Camp Stories: A Weekend in Paradise

There are some traditions in my family that are not to be messed with: Christmas dinner means turkey and fixin's…no suggestions of ham, lamb or other funny business allowed. Same goes for Thanksgiving. And Friday evenings are invariably kicked off with Dave's martinis garnished with Spanish anchovy-stuffed olives.

Instant classic: the Sierra cup martini.

Now it looks like the fourth of July is becoming another don't-mess-with-the-best formula: a minimum of three nights of tent camping with a group of four couples sharing food and drink at what has been officially voted (by us) as a 10-out-of-10 campground, Paradise Creek in the Gifford-Pinchot National Forest just north of Carson, Washington.

Classy glassware? Who needs it?

A mere 90 minutes from Portland, it's pretty primitive, meaning no showers, flush toilets or hook-ups for big rigs. But that also means it's devoid of roaring generators, loud music and crowds of marauding children on dirt bikes. Instead the air is filled with the smell of campfire smoke and the sound of the small creek that flows by, and the night sky through the trees is studded with millions of stars.

New classic: Coney sauce.

This year we had dibs on making dinner the first night, so instead of trying to relive the success of last year's campfire posole I decided to try my hand at that hallowed American specialty known as the Coney Island hot dog. What I came up with is definitely a twist on the traditional, but what can you expect from someone who grew up on the left coast?

And the dogs were no Ball Park Franks or even Hebrew National, but a selection from local purveyors Olympic Provisions and Chop. Both types got raves, by the way, though I have to say I really liked the flavor and heft of the Chop dogs. And the sauce is one I'll pull out for a backyard BBQ soon, sided by some potato salad or coleslaw.

Coney Island Hot Dog Sauce

2 Tbsp. olive oil
2 lbs. lean ground beef
3 lg yellow onions, chopped fine
3 lg cloves garlic, minced
1/2 Tbsp. garlic powder
1 1/2 Tbsp. white vinegar
4 Tbsp. ancho chile powder
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. allspice
1/2 tsp. red pepper flakes or hot chile powder
1 Tbsp. cumin
1 Tbsp. salt
1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
2 6-oz. cans tomato paste
4 c. water

Heat a large Dutch oven on medium heat and add oil. When it shimmers, add ground beef and brown. Add onions and garlic and sauté till tender. Add garlic powder, vinegar, chile powders, cinnamon, cumin, salt and allspice and stir until fragrant. Add remaining ingredients and bring to a simmer. Continue simmering for 3 to 4 hours, stirring occasionally to make sure it doesn't stick. Makes about 10 cups of sauce.

Read other Camp Stories in the series: Trout Creek Campground, Shadow Bay at Waldo Lake, LaPine State Park, Indian Crossing Campground, Frog Lake Campground, Patrick's Point State Park, Harris Beach State Park and Moss Creek Campground and last year's trip to Paradise Creek.

Camp Stories: Paradise Creek Campground

Can you really say you're roughing it when you have fourteen dozen raw oysters in a coffin-sized cooler? Not to mention martini glasses, cocktail fixin's for just about any drink in a home bartender's guide, anchovy-stuffed Spanish olives for the aforementioned martinis and enough wine to ride out (or would that be float out?) the apocalypse.

Now, I have to say that Dave and I have wowed camp neighbors over the years with margaritas shaken in a handy plastic tub and some mighty fine camp cookin' like the posole we made last year in Dave's brand new Lodge cast iron pot. But the crew we joined over the Fourth of July took it over the top and then some.

Only 167 to go…

My brother (that's him shucking, lower right) and his bride have always headed for the hills over the holiday to get away from the crazies who seem to think the city's streets are their own private bombing range. This year we decided to invite ourselves along and spare Walker and Rosey the panting, pacing, drooling trauma of staying in town.

The plan was to meet up in the no-fireworks-allowed pristine surroundings of the aptly named Paradise Creek campground just north of Carson, Washington, in the Gifford-Pinchot National Forest near Mt. Adams. A small, shady campground, its 42 primitive sites are dotted along the confluence of the Wind River, Paradise Creek and Juice Creek.

Still shucking.

The creekside campsites are the most private and the largest, each capable of handling anywhere from one to three tents, though an additional fee is required for more than one vehicle per site. The best is site 29, but sites 25 and 27 are lovely, too (27 is next to the toilets, though buffered by trees and the creek). The camp hosts keep the pit toilets clean and well-stocked, and they also have firewood available, though after the first night you'll be going back down the road near the fish hatchery where an enterprising family sells dry, chopped wood for a much better price.

Campfire posole.

As for those oysters, our group consisted of five couples, two singles and a toddler, so appetizers on two evenings were taken up shucking and slurping both raw and grilled bivalves, though the toddler preferred consuming a fair amount of native terroir (that is, dirt) with his meals. Those were divvied up between the comings and goings of the various participants, with everything from beans and franks to steak and corn to, yes, our posole. Breakfast was a rotating affair that always started with coffee, then moved on to campfire hashbrowns and eggs or toasted bagels or scrambled eggs with chorizo sausage, then cold cuts, cheeses and salads for lunch.

Some amount of hiking and stream-walking was required to interrupt all that eating, and there are trails aplenty in the area including one hefty climb up Lava Butte from the campground, which ended with a somewhat disappointing non-view at the top.

The best part, though? As the sun went down on the night of July 4, the only crackling and popping came from the campfire, with no hissing from anything other than water flowing over the stones in the creek.

Read other Camp Stories in the series from Trout Creek Campground, Shadow Bay at Waldo Lake, LaPine State Park, Indian Crossing Campground, Frog Lake Campground, Patrick's Point State Park, Harris Beach State Park and Moss Creek Campground.