Here’s a valuable life lesson, folks. When camping in the middle of the Outback under a canopy of stars, surrounded by howling dingo pups and five guys from Israel who don’t speak any English other than Simon and Garfunkel lyrics, you’re going to walk away with a golden tan of a bronzed goddess. Except here’s the catch: you’re not actually tan. You’re really just covered in seven layers of dirt.
Now, you have two options at this point: Find a shower on the side of the road with a sign that reads “BE CAREFUL. BIG BROWN SNAKE COMES TO DRINK AT SHOWER RECESS!!!!” and bitch as your tan washes down the drain of a snake’s watering hole in a watery mess of filth, filth, dirt, and more filth. Or, embrace nature’s pudding as a utensil you can cook with.
The lesson? Always pick nature’s pudding. And tell Outback Steakhouse to kiss your ass because this beats the Bloomin’ Onion any day.
1 whole chicken (cook separately so the vegetarians can enjoy the veggies)
Any seasoning you may have in that cluttered mess you call a “kitchen” piled up in the back of your Mitsubishi Express
Vegetables. We used pumpkin, white potato, carrots, and onions, but just use any vegetable you have/want. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life.
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
First, you’re going to need to get stuck in a pit of sand so you can be rescued by five attractive Israelis with a burning love for Mrs. Robinson. If you play your cards right, they’ll come equipped with shovels, tin foil, food, wine, and MP3 players. If you don’t play your cards right, then you’re responsible for providing your own tools/ingredients/Simon and Garfunkel songs/alcohol. Just a heads up though, living in a van with a shovel is a bee-yotch, so you better play your damn cards right.
Next, while your new friends sing “Cecilia” for the fourth time, you need to start constructing your oven. Do this by building a fire. You’re going to want to let the fire burn down until you’ve got some nice glowing embers. While you wait for the embers, dig a shallow hole with a shovel and wrap up your chicken in tin foil with olive oil and whatever seasoning you have. Wrap up your vegetables in a separate tin foil with olive oil and seasoning as well.
Once the fire burns down, tile the floor of the shallow pit with the embers. Put the chicken and vegetables - both wrapped in tin foil - on the coals.
Here comes the dirty part: cover the tin-foiled food in dirt until the hole is filled back up. Put any remaining coals on top of the sealed pit with your shovel (not your hands; don’t be a dumbass), and build another fire on top of the sealed hole.
Next, take a big gulp of wine and sit back for at least an hour-and-a-half, listening to a conversation you don’t understand filtered with bits of English talking about making love to Cecilia up in my bedroom.
After about an hour and a half, shift the fire over with your shovel and dig up the tin foil like you’re a culinary grave robber. Take out the food — again, with the shovel, not your hands — and let it cool off before unwrapping. Make sure everything’s all cooked. If it’s not, wrap it back up and bury it again.
If it’s ready, make a plate and enjoy the best and dirtiest meal you’ve ever made in a hole.