Now, the import of all this is that, with planning, a little practice and some hopping about, a good deal of cooking and preparation of food can be done in a short time. Unnecessary “fussing” about the cooking is not desirable in camp life. The simpler that life can be made and kept the better. The more we can get away from unwholesome condiments, highly seasoned foods, too much meat eating and coffee drinking, too many sweets and pastries, the better. The girl who goes into the woods with the idea of having all the luxuries--many of them wholly unnecessary and some of them undesirable--of her home life, is no true “sport.” The grand object for which we cook in camp is a good appetite and that needs no sauce and sweets.
What are some of the recipes a girl should have with her for log-cabin cooking? In the first place, we must take with us a good recipe for _bread-making_. There are so many I will give none. The best one to have is the one used at home, but let me say here that no flour so answers all dietetic needs in the woods as entire wheat. Delicious baking powder biscuits can be made from it as well as bread. Also know how to _boil a potato_. You think this is a matter of no importance? It would surprise you then, wouldn’t it, to know that there are some people devoting all of their time teaching the ignorant and the poor the art of boiling a potato. You can boil all the good out of it and make it almost worthless as food, as well as untempting, or you can cook it properly, making it everything it ought to be. Know, too, how to _clean a fish_. Oh, dear, you never could do that! It makes you shiver to think of such a thing. Very well then, camp is no place for you. Your squeamishness which might seem attractive some place else will only be silly there, making you a dead weight about somebody else’s neck. Does your brother Boy Scout know how to clean a fish? Did you ever know a real boy who did not know how to clean a fish? Why not a real girl, then, perhaps a Camp Fire Girl? Oh, but the cook--no, you will be the cook in camp or the assistant cook. Then get your brother to show you how to cut off its head and to scale it, if it is a scaly fish, how to slit it open, taking out the entrails, how to wash it thoroughly and dry it, how to dip it in flour or meal and to drop it into the sizzling frying pan, how to turn it and then finally the moment when, crisp and brown, it should be taken out and served. Know, too, how to pluck and clean a partridge.[5] One day this last summer I went up the cut behind my camp, intent upon finding a partridge for our supper. I hadn’t gone far before I found one and with the second shot of my rifle brought the poor fellow down. I took him home to the cook whom I had with me then, the daughter of a neighboring farmer. I gave her the bird and told her to get him ready for supper. She said she couldn’t; she didn’t know how.