Yesterday was my first day at the camp stove. I had to boil water for boxed mac n'cheese and had to do it outside on the "counter" Mr Ferguson has set up with a piece of plywood and two sawhorses. Let's just say that while the food was good, it was a bit strange draining my pasta into a strainer that was balanced on a few rocks in my garden. As I looked up from the steaming pile of pasta that appeared nestled among the heather plants, I suddenly hoped that none of my "classy" neighbors with real kitchens was walking by.
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