Worst Camp Cooks

In ’11, I hired on at the 06 ranch in Fort Davis, Texas. Spring and fall works, and there was Marcos’ cooking. Marcos may be one of the best cooks I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. He grew up on the 06 wagon, learning from his uncle Ramon, who cooked on the 06 for a quarter century. There were perfect pancakes at 4 a.m. cooked in the dark, the best fried chicken you’ve ever had, and (after days of wondering what was in the small covered saucepan by the fire) the best Mexican hot cocoa to dollop in your coffee for the day.

Unfortunately, the number of good camp cooks is not equal to the outfits that need fed. I’ve been reminded throughout the years to appreciate the good ones. It seems like you remember them even more when you’re having to choke down the bad grub.

The following are a few of the dishes I’ve had:

• Tuna fish casserole, mixed with green beans and topped with onion rings. Burn until all moisture is taken out and a jerky consistency has been reached;
• Bologna sandwiches for a crew of 14, made with just half a loaf of bread, the driest you can find, and one pack of bologna;
• Hard scrambled eggs made by scrambling eggs over heat until you’ve reached normal scrambled eggs. Cook them for another 15 minutes stirring consistently. Now the crew that’s eating them may say differently or even pull out a flashlight to show you that you have sucked all life out of them, but don’t listen to those critics! Keep stirring.

I had the opportunity to work at a ranch along the Madison River, which is about the prettiest place a person’s ever seen. What wasn’t pretty was the sight of the half-burnt tuna fish casserole that came out of the oven at the cookhouse. I’m betting the ol’ gal must have had a strange tragic accident in her life where it messed up her smell and taste and possibly her eyes.

My favorite worst experience might be the time I pulled into a camp on a Northern Arizona outfit, and the crew had run off the cook by hiding his microwave. Apparently, they’d had enough of his nuked runny eggs (and everything else he cooked in there) and the mutiny ensued. The crew stole the microwave and refused to return it. I wasn’t there for the moment he gave his notice, but from the sounds of it, there were no tears shed when he pulled out of camp.

This article was originally published in the August 2023 issue of Western Horseman.

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