A fishing partner and I are getting excited about a spring camping and fishing trip to the Picacho State Recreation Area, 25 miles north of Winterhaven on the Colorado River, just above Mexico. With a camper rig towing a boat, it will take us a minimum of a day and a half of driving each way from our homes in the northern Sierra foothills. We will be staying a week or longer and need to give more thought than usual to meal preparation and food-storage logistics, since Picacho is quite remote. It won’t be easy to run 25 miles on a gravel road into town for anything that we forgot, and we don’t know what the local grocery stores are like.
Jimmie and I have cooked many times for our Gold Country Fly Fishers club at Lake Davis and nearby Frenchman Lake during our fishout Rendezvous, where campfire camaraderie, good meals, and live music are important parts of the outing. At Picacho, we will be joining friends from the Tahoe Truckee Fly Fishers who have a history of doing things right in their camp kitchen. I wrote of John and Jan Marcacci’s fish tacos a few years ago after experiencing their wonderful fish taco feed at an Antelope Lake encampment (“The Foraging Angler,” California Fly Fisher, April/May 2014). I’ve used Jan’s recipe and sauce ever since. A main objective on this trip is to catch fresh bass, bluegills, and crappies for their taco event. We want interesting, visually stimulating, mouthwatering food, yet need to keep things simple. We will rely on some standbys that never get old, but we also want to be innovative and try new things.
I was looking for new ideas or to rekindle old ones that have been forgotten, and so I pulled out two fabulous cookbooks that my wife gave me. One was Francis Mallmann’s Mallmann On Fire: 100 Inspired Recipes to Grill Anytime, Anywhere, which is a sequel of sorts to his classic Seven Fires: Grilling the Argentine Way, a book that should be in every outdoor cook’s library. Mallmann is a legendary Argentine cook and uses concepts gained in culinary study in France to raise the bar for outdoor cooking, most often using fire, whether on his high-pampas ranch, in his restaurants, or doing traveling-chef guest stints all over the world.
Mallmann On Fire has interesting background narratives and superb food photography in outdoor settings. A recipe can be as simple as charring herbs that will be used in a salsa or can require the complex preparations and logistics needed to roast an entire cow or oxen on a spit. Mallmann goes beyond contemporary barbeque grills for his cooking and is innovative in using what is available as implements. I suspect that our ancestors were equally innovative in finding ways to cook their food, though I don’t know if their presentations at the camp table were as enthralling. Mallmann does it right. We want to use all our senses, including taste, smell, sight, and texture in putting together memorable meals.
The other book that got my juices flowing is Michael Chiarello’s Live Fire: 125 Recipes for Grilling Outdoors. Chiarello’s credentials include the fabulously successful restaurant Tra Vigne, just south of St. Helena in the Napa Valley, another restaurant, Bottega, eight cookbooks, and the newly opened Coqueta on San Francisco’s waterfront. I don’t use pricey beef tenderloin for his costeletta di bovaro, which is Italian for “cowboy steaks,” cooked on a sword that is stuck in the ground next to an outdoor fire and angled over the coals. Instead, I use hanger steak, flatiron steak, or flank steak and Michael’s salsa verde or Mallman’s chimichurri, which uses dried herbs that would be available to gaucho cowboy cooks out on the pampas. You place an onion quarter on the end of the sword to keep the meat from being encrusted with ash. You probably don’t have a sword, but you can make your own with iron stock from your local hardware store or welding shop.
Another simple, yet inspiring recipe from Chiarello is lamb on a string. My friend George the Greek, who eats nothing in the way of meat that doesn’t come from home-grown, free-range, antibiotics-free, tenderly raised and fed animals, had given me a bone-in goat shoulder from a freshly butchered animal. I hung it from a hook that dangled on a chain suspended from an iron cooking tripod over a bed of coals. It’s a replica of similar tripods carried by wagon-train travelers. Our goat twisted back and forth as if on a vertical rotisserie and self-basted.
The memory of that meal stirred another, of a boneless beef roast that we impaled on a water-soaked limb and angled over the coals on the banks of the Little Truckee River. We were camping underneath a streamside tree that had been struck and felled by lightning and that had given its name to that piece of riparian real estate on the revered “LT.” We hadn’t read any cookbooks for this one — we just carved off crusty slabs of beef as the roast basted in its own smoky fats, aided by the contents of a spray bottle that combined red wine, soy sauce, and garlic powder.
As I said, we are hoping that fish find their way to our table at Picacho. John Marcacci fly fishes for bass during the day and at night throws out a line baited with bluegills, hoping for huge flathead catfish. I’m sure fillets from the cat’s tasty flesh will find a way into our outdoor kitchen. I’ll be traveling with my 45-year-old, thick-walled Chinese wok that I bought in a rural Philippine market, and I want to do tempura-battered bass fillets. Maybe we will try catfish done that way. The wok’s curved bottom allows you to use less oil, which makes for less to carry, less to dispose of. It works on a grill, over a bed of coals, or on a camp stove. If you don’t have a wok, a cast iron Dutch oven is a great instrument for frying.
Both Chiarello and Mallmann cook fish in foil, which is a camper’s dream. Foil cooking is very forgiving. In my backyard kitchen, I put foil-wrapped fish on a high rack over a low gas barbeque flame and cook it for 30 to 40 minutes. For camp fare, I like to carry heavy-duty 18-inch-wide aluminum foil and double-wrap the fish. Cook it over coals, in an oven, or on a rack above a low camp stove flame. It’s easy to prepare a trout. Gut it, gently scrape off any loose scales, rinse, pat dry, and stuff the body cavity. Chiarello’s recipe uses the classic Italian combination of olive oil, salt and pepper, lemon slices, and tarragon. It has been said that a good Italian cook can work miracles with olive oil, salt and pepper, red pepper flakes, Parmesan cheese, and some citrusy white wine such as a sauvignon blanc or pinot grigio.
An alternative herb that travels well in a camp kit is lemongrass. I’ve also been known to use one of my classic prepared condiments, Alder Market Sesame Spinach Dressing, with nothing more than sliced onions in the fish’s body cavity. It’s simple and tasty. Chill leftovers in a camp cooler and serve it as a breakfast meat in a warmed tortilla. Throw in some sriracha hot sauce, and you’re ready for first light. Be careful about bears, raccoons, or coyotes zeroing in on the carcass, though.
You can grill whole fish directly over the flames. Mallmann’s grilled whole fish stuffed with fennel is another Italian classic. Traditionally, the technique is used for snapper or branzino, but small bass work very well. Gut and clean the fish, leaving it whole. Slash it diagonally through the skin three or four times, an inch or so apart, on each side. Brush it with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Stuff thin fennel slices into the slashes and a few into the body cavity. You can add lemon slices for a variation. Drizzle everything with olive oil. Place the whole fish on a well-oiled hot grill or in a stainless wire fish basket and cook for seven minutes. Turn it over very carefully and cook another seven minutes. Use longer grill times for larger fish. Char marks from the grill make it very appetizing, but it may not lift off perfectly. Your fish is ready when the flesh goes from transparent to just opaque. I’ve cooked a 28-pound lingcod on a Weber. It was a visual mess, but tasted heavenly. At home I buy smaller whole fish such as snappers at the big Asian markets.
Food maven, dear friend, and cooking companion Judi Vacchina lives in the old Ghirardelli Chocolate family residence high on the ridge above Pleasanton. She’s used to coming home from a long workday and whipping up food for 20 in her test kitchen. Pressed for time, she will put out breadsticks, olives, nuts, and high-quality sopresatta, copa, and salami like you’ve never tasted before. Do the same in camp for your guests to snack on while your meals cook. These items travel very well.
Judi showed me a foolproof method of entertaining for a crowd using pork tenderloins. She rubs them with extra-virgin olive oil, sprinkles paprika and garlic salt liberally, wraps them in aluminum foil, and then places the tenderloins in a preheated oven at 425 degrees for 25 minutes. Add more time at altitude. They need to rest after cooking for 10 more minutes. Do the same, but cook them over or in the coals. Pork tenderloin often comes two to the package in sealed plastic bags that won’t leak and contaminate your refrigeration. It travels well, can be used many ways, and is light in calories and cholesterol, compared with beef.
Julienne leftover pork into thin strips and think tacos. Dice it and add to sautéed onions that have been deglazed with low-sodium chicken stock and a jar of D. L. Jardine’s Roasted Tomatillo Salsa. Simmer for as long as it takes to drink at least two glasses of wine. If your campground neighbors smell the aroma and come over, add a can or two of rinsed and drained white cannellini or kidney beans. After a while, you have a very good instant chili verde. It’s as good as you can make from scratch. Don’t forget to garnish with cilantro that has been washed, blotted dry, and sandwiched between paper towels in a chilled Ziploc bag for the journey. Years ago, my fishing buddies and I found that grocery stores in Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming can be a wastelands when it came to herbs and spices. We learned to carry fresh essentials such as rosemary, cilantro, lemongrass, parsley, basil, and tarragon using the paper towel method and Ziploc bags. You can also buy sealed transparent herb packs, though they are expensive and not always fresh.
Many vegetables can be cooked over coals in foil packets. I like sweet onions. I add olive oil and butter, white wine, and cilantro or tarragon. A friend recently showed me how to add diced potatoes to the same mix. They’re great. Another combination is bell peppers, onions, and garlic and a little olive oil. It can be eaten as is or added to toasted buns filled with grilled bratwursts or Italian sausage. Zucchini and squash are favorites, too, because they transport well and are easy to prepare. Slice them thin, brush them with olive oil, and season them with a variety of spices — garlic salt always works well — then grill. You want char marks, and there are no pans to clean.
Fresh corn on the cob in the shuck travels well. A favorite version uses chipotle chiles, lime juice, and butter in foil on the coals. Roadside-stand fresh corn is best unadulterated other than with butter, but the citrus and chile will resurrect corn that’s several days old.
To amp up limes, oranges, or lemons, cut the citrus fruits in half and place open face down on the grill for a few minutes. You want some char and caramelization.
Don’t tell anyone, but gourmet food purveyors such as Williams Sonoma sell great bottled pasta sauces . . . better than the grocery-store stuff, which is full of sugar and salt. Boil some high-grade pasta to the al dente stage, add grilled sliced Italian or other type of sausage to the instant sauce, and you have a hearty meal. Another great prepared product is a gourmet cioppino simmer sauce. Add some fresh fish, thawed frozen shrimp, or crawdad tails caught at the lake and a small tub of pasteurized crab, even canned crab or clams in a pinch, and you have another feast. I’m not going to say that it is a good as when you use fresh Dungeness crab and make it from scratch, but it is mighty hearty in camp on a cold evening. Just add salad and a bottle of red and some artisan bread that traveled in a double wrap of Glad Wrap and its original paper sack.
Amp salads up with seasoned wonton strips, sun-dried tomatoes, pine nuts, or marinated artichokes. Prewashed salad greens make this easy, and they come in sealed containers that travel well. Check the dates. A favorite is baby arugula and spinach, which are genuine, healthy leaf greens. Try stir-frying some with Italian pancetta or with bacon and some mushrooms. Place the result under fish or meats for an attractive and flavorful presentation.
Whether you’re gone for a week or a weekend on a fishing trip, a few miles from home or in the back end of nowhere, dining well while camping can be a real delight. Work on raising the bar when you cook on your next trip, and you will be a hit in camp.
Don’t Let the Evening Hatch Interfere With a Good Meal
By Richard Anderson
Most of my summer fishing for trout occurs in the evening. On my local river, the Truckee, I can usually best find rising fish, if I’m fortunate enough to find them at all, when the sun has dropped behind the Sierra crest. This means, however, that I perhaps have two or three hours of prime angling time before the sky grows too dark to tie on flies and repair tippets.
If, however, nightfall forces anglers like me to stop fishing around, say, 9 o’clock, we likely won’t be eating our evening meal until closer to 10 p.m. whether we dine at a restaurant or cook something at home. Frankly, I’m sure to develop indigestion later in the night if I have dinner shortly before hitting the sack.
Other than eating before you go fishing, a nonstarter for many of us given the soporific effect of a good meal, the solution, obviously, is to have a hot, cooked meal waiting for you when you return back to the house or cabin. To achieve this, I rely upon a plug-in device called a slow cooker, also known as a crockpot.
The benefit of a slow cooker is that you load it up hours before you want to eat, turn the knob to the desired temperature, and then take off. Mine, a 1979 model, has a knob that turns from “off” to either “low,” which usually means a meat dish is cooked in eight hours, or “high,” which cuts that time in half. When you return, a simmering meal is waiting for your delectation, all without relying on unwatched gas burners.
Although using a slow cooker is quite easy, I can say from experience that it is not idiot-proof. The cooking instructions I received with my crockpot were basically worthless, only I didn’t know that because in 1979, fresh out of school, I was both a horrible cook and an inexperienced eater, having been raised on dishes that often came from cans, boxes, and boiling bags. When I started cooking with my crockpot, the accompanying recipes neglected to mention that meat will taste much better if it is first browned in a skillet to develop flavor, and that vegetables can similarly benefit from caramelization overheat before being added to the slow cooker. For years, my crockpot meals could best be described as a step down from TV Dinners.
With experience, though, sometimes comes wisdom, and I’m pleased to report that the dishes I prepare in a slow cooker are now worthy of sharing with company. Just recently, for example, I found a nicely marbled three-pound chuck roast at my local supermarket. After trimming away much of the exterior fat and seasoning with salt and pepper, I browned it in a Dutch oven on the stove, transferred it to a plate, then put chopped onions, carrots, celery, and halved boiling potatoes into the hot oil. Once the onions were softened and translucent, I added a couple of tablespoons of tomato paste and a teaspoon or two of paprika, plus two cloves of minced garlic, and let everything cook for a minute or so before adding several glugs of red wine. Once the liquid had reduced a bit, this all went into the crockpot. I placed the roast on top of the veggies along with its accumulated juices, added beef stock to come halfway up the meat, placed the lid on it and turned the switch to “low.”
Eight hours later, I had a wonderfully flavored, spoon-tender pot roast. The accompanying liquid was thick enough to serve as a sauce, as some of the veggies had dissolved over the long cooking time. If the liquid had been thinner, though, I could easily have reduced it on the stovetop. With a simple salad and a couple of hunks of sourdough, I had a fine dinner that satisfyingly concluded a long afternoon on the river.
