Shifts and expedients of camp life, travel & exploration

by William Barry Lord; Thomas Baines

Sugar pots, to make.

A shallow wooden dish, of about 14in. internal diameter, is chosen, and in this the clay, previously kneaded into a long roll, is so coiled as to make a circular wall; this is next pressed and patted into a compact mass, with a smooth surface; it is then built upon, tapering into a kind of pear shape towards the top, which is 4in. in diameter, and is finished in a smooth edge (a woman will do this in about ten minutes); it is then gently lifted from the dish and set aside to dry. Next day it is turned up, and the wide part, which had previously been the base, is gradually built upon with fresh clay, till it arches over so as to leave a very small aperture; the fingers of the left hand are introduced to support the work, while the hole is being diminished by applications of fresh clay until it becomes so small that the last finger has to be withdrawn, and it is finally closed by the dexterous application of a small piece, quite moist, dabbed on with correct aim, and slightly smoothed off at the edges by gentle application of the fingers. A hemispherical cap is then made for the finished panella, which appears beside it. The jars are then baked to a dull red. From 15lb. to 20lb. of sugar is put in each, making the gross weight from 27lb. to 29lb., a pad of grass to give a flattened base is laced to each jar with strips of palm leaf, a couple of loops or beckets are left to lift it by, and each jar is sold for about three fathoms of calico.

Cakes, to bake.

In cooking an “as-koekie,” or ash cake, a fire is made upon a smooth flat piece of ground, and when this is well heated, and there are plenty of glowing embers, the fire is swept away; the cake, generally of meal or of seconds flour and water, with a pinch of salt in it, is laid upon it, the ashes are then strewed over the cake, and the embers raked over all, fresh wood being heaped over if necessary, and it is left for two or four hours according to its size and the intensity of the fire. The Australian damper is made in the same manner, except that the finest flour is used and kneaded with as little water as possible; in fact the flour is merely damped sufficiently to make it adhere, and then by dint of hard kneading is converted into a solid mass, the object being to have no moisture in it that would cause it to become mouldy if kept or carried for several days upon a journey. As this article of breadstuff is such a general favourite with old bushmen, it may not be amiss to give full directions for its preparation. The size of the damper of course depends on the numerical strength of the party for which it is about being prepared. The first thing to do is to obtain a flat, broad, dried sheepskin, or slab of bark, large enough to constitute a kneading-board; on this pour from your flour sack enough flour for use; sprinkle in some salt; work a wide basin-shaped hole in the middle of the flour, keeping the right hand moving round it whilst water is thrown in a little at a time from any convenient vessel held in the left. Continue to do this until a thick, strong, adhesive dough is formed; work this well about on the board with dry flour until a large pudding-shaped ball is formed; strew your board with fresh flour, dust over your ball with a little, and proceed to press and flatten it out until a round, even, pancake-shaped mass is formed—about 2½in. in thickness will be found a convenient substance. This may be ascertained by cutting a notch in a sharp stick at 2½in. from the joint, and thrusting it through here and there, working away in the meantime until the thickness is uniform. The red hot embers of your camp fire, which should be good, clear, and well-burned, must now be scooped aside with a shovel, flat-pointed stick, or a sheet of green bark, leaving a clear even surface of hearth. Now, deftly taking the damper in the palms and outspread fingers of your two hands, drop it evenly and lightly on the heated ground, making all flat and compact with your hands, and then with your shovel or makeshift spade rake back the heated embers over your damper until it is deeply buried in them, and in between one and two hours, depending on the weight of the batch, it will be cooked to a turn, be of a light rich brown, and a feast for a king. Hungry men not unfrequently satisfy their hunger by making dough nuts, or “beggars on the coals” as they are called, whilst the damper is cooking. These are merely small lumps of dough hastily twisted off and cast on the embers to grill. The dried yeast powders prepared by some good makers are well worth taking on an expedition, when very superior bread can be made by their aid. We have made good bread with and without them, by placing the loaf under an upturned copper or iron cooking pot, heaping on the ashes until the baking process was completed, and then dusting the loaf well with a bunch of fresh green twigs. We made an excellent oven in the Crimea from an old powder canister. This we buried in an horizontal direction in the bank at the back of the cook house. Clay was well rammed in round it, and after it had been sufficiently heated by a charge of vine roots and aught else we could obtain, it was swept out, the bread pies or tarts (for we even arrived at that stage of the baker’s art at last) were put in, the copper cover of the canister was luted fast with wet clay, and the baking proved most satisfactory. A small iron-hooped barrel makes an excellent oven. Lay it on its bilge in a deep groove, scooped in a convenient bank, cover it with a complete and thick coating of strong clay, leaving one head, the outer one, open; then fill in the earth above the cask, and well stamp it down; now lay a few stones in the cask, and light a fire on them, letting it smoulder the whole of one day and a night, in order that the clay may dry. Now remove the stones, and light a strong fire of dry wood in it. This will burn out all the staves, and leave the clay oven fit for use. A large flat stone and some clay makes a good oven stopper.

If a light cake for present use is required, and the ashes adhering to the outer surface are thought objectionable, a frying-pan, of which the handle had been broken off, may be inverted over it, or a plate of iron may be supported upon four stones, and the fire piled over all as before. (See Fig. 3.) The three-legged iron pot, or Meg Merrilies (Fig. 4), forms an excellent oven; light bread may be baked in it, or joints may be roasted, or pastry made to suit the most fastidious taste. A fire must be made underneath it, and a sufficient quantity of clear glowing embers raked out and piled upon the iron cover, which ought not to be lifted until the moment when the contents are judged to be properly cooked.

Flesh meat.

But it is when the larger animals of the wilderness fall before the hunter’s rifle that the resources of the African chef de cuisine are really called into requisition. Suppose an elephant has been laid low, and, after an extemporised supper of steaks, or “carbonatjies,” the party determine to have a foot for breakfast, the fire, which has already partially dried the ground, is swept away, or perhaps a new spot is chosen, and a hole 30in. in width and depth is made, a fire is lighted in this, and a quantity of dry wood thrown on and allowed to burn until the sides of the hole and the earth immediately surrounding it are thoroughly heated; the fire is then raked out, the foot, generally a fore one, which has been amputated at what may be called the wrist-joint, and answering to the knee of the horse, is placed in its natural position in it (Fig. 5), the ashes are shovelled in, the hot embers above them, the hot earth over all, and a roaring fire is lighted on the top and left to burn all night. In the morning this is cleared off, the foot is dug out, the upper parts soiled by the contract of the ashes are cut away, and the rich gelatine and other morsels are left to be dug out by the stout keen pointed knives of the expectant hunters, the tough skin serving all the purposes of a dish. Very frequently a piece of the trunk is put in at the same time, and this is generally left as a stand-by, to be eaten cold, when it looks and tastes almost like coarse tongue; the foot, on the contrary, being best while still warm. The hump of the white rhinoceros, treated in nearly the same manner, is in reality a most delicious morsel, the rich juices accumulating in the dish formed by the thick skin, while the upper part and adhering ashes is cut off and thrown away; but, if proper care has been taken, another flap of skin slightly larger will have been cut out and skewered, as in Fig. 6, for a dish cover, and this will not only prevent the annoyance caused by dirt and ashes, but will prevent the absorption of the juices which would otherwise take place.

A mode of cooking a dish of hippopotamus, discovered by Sir Samuel Baker, is well worth bearing in mind. Speaking of it, he says: “I tried boiling the fat flesh and skin together, the result being that the skin assumed the appearance of the green fat of the turtle, but is far superior. A piece of the head thus boiled, and then soused in vinegar, with chopped onions and cayenne pepper and salt, throws brawn completely into the shade.” The rump steak from an eland is also a delicacy hardly to be surpassed. The side of the rump, skin and all, with as much flesh as can be dug out with it, is cut off; the edges of the skin are then gathered together and skewered like a pudding bag (see Fig. 7), and it is then put into the heated hole, or a fire is built around and over it upon the surface, the advantage being that the juices have no chance of escape and the meat is most deliciously cooked; in fact, if the quantity be insufficient, all the inner portions of the skin may be pared away and eaten, leaving only the scorched cuticle. The gipsies’ method of rolling up a fowl in a ball of clay, putting it into the fire till it becomes red hot, and then breaking it open, with all the feathers scorched so as to be no longer recognisable, and the fowl itself deliciously cooked, is well known. Fish when dressed in this way are delicious.

In some countries the natives appear to have a taste for boiling or stewing their food, although at the same time they do not possess vessels of iron, or even of clay, that will bear the action of the fire: nevertheless their case is not hopeless. We have frequently seen the cooking holes of the Australians—generally beside some rivulet, where fish and fresh-water mussels were easily to be obtained, and even an alligator might occasionally be killed. A hole (see Fig. 8, p. 551), 2ft. in diameter and 1ft. in depth, is dug in the ground, and the inside nicely clayed; the fish or flesh, carefully wrapped in grass or in the leaves of the pandanus, is put in and the hole filled with water. In the meantime large stones have been heated at a fire not far off, and these are dropped one after another into the water, being removed by means of crooked sticks as they cool to make room for others more thoroughly hot; then, when the water boils, or is as nearly boiling as it is possible for hot stones to make it, the hole is covered with grass; earth is heaped on it, and the food is left to steam until it is considered sufficiently cooked. Should the mess be large, and require longer boiling, a fire may be lighted above the cooking hole, less for the purpose of imparting fresh heat than for that of preventing the loss of the heat already produced below it. The New Zealanders, Sandwich Islanders, and some of the Indian tribes of North West America, cook most of their food in this manner. In the Pacific Islands a pig, with the potatoes, yams, or other vegetables, is nicely wrapped in several folds of mat or native cloth and left to stew all night; and we have heard it said that flesh may be boiled by this process in a sufficiently water-tight basket. Salmon and other fish are commonly boiled by Indians in birch bark by the aid of hot stones.