Yesterday evening I decided to give the kitchen a miss and cook outside, we used to to this a lot when we had the Klondike oven at our last house, and each summer here at Rock HQ I mean to build one, or something similar. Rock ovens take a while to build so I just scraped a hole in the bank and collected a pile of twigs, left over from the extreme pruning session, but mostly from Spotty's private collection, and pretty soon an inferno was raging in the dirt. Reuben who has never seen flames before got a bit too close for his own comfort while I was picking the salad and he now is deficit whiskers.
Lesson learned.
Soon a slab of roadkill Bambi was sizzling on the fire frying pan and very shortly I had the best sandwich ever washed down with some cheap red. Thoughts turned from food to experiments, probably fueled by cheap Bulgarian wine, I decided that I should give making charcoal a go. So the fire embers were covered with hazel and ash logs and buried.
What is missing is a picture of the pile of newly created charcoal cooking tonight's home made home produced pork and mustard burgers. Well charcoal was made, but not enough to cook a mountain of burgers, in fact only enough to cook one. On one side. Probably because too much air got in, but the principle was sound and a huge pit is going to be dug and with a lot of perseverance and a bit of luck we will make enough charcoal to cook the sausages for our planned first annual sausage festival late this summer.
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