One of my absolute favorite pastimes as a kid was what I called "Lost in the Woods." The sparse patch of trees behind our suburban Maryland house was, in my imagination, the deep wilderness, where my friends and I built shoddy shelters out of branches and subsisted on the nectar of wild honeysuckles that grew back there or, more often, on the leftover Halloween candy we’d conveniently stuffed into our pockets beforehand.
Though I didn’t turn into a backpacking nut—far from it—I’ve loved the camping trips I’ve taken since then, the most recent being a solo cross-country excursion almost exactly a decade ago. Even so, my campsite cooking experience barely extends past boiling water for coffee in the morning. And assuming Mr. Comma would never be up for roughing it, I donated all my camp gear when we moved to our new house last year.
Of course, now that I’ve been proven wrong and we’re about to go on a (car) camping adventure, we’re starting from square one. This time, I’m determined to put our new camp stove to real use, so I’ve assembled a makeshift mobile kitchen comprising what I think are the bare essentials:
Pot, skillet, and lid that fits both
Knife set and cutting board
Wooden spoon, spatula, tongs
Mixing bowl
Kettle
French press
Tableware, utensils
Can opener
Corkscrew
Dish towel
This all fits into a record crate–sized bin, with room to spare. Am I missing anything?
