I Won't Eat That

There aren't many foods that I do not enjoy. To list them: I don't care for tinned tuna (cat food), have trouble with kidneys (taste like what they are: urine filters), and can take or leave beets (sweet dirt). Other than that, I will, and do, eat anything.

Except the one other thing I don't eat, for good reason. My father, younger brother Brian, and I were on a hiking trip in the Wind River Mountains in Wyoming. Two or three days in, at base camp the day before our attempt at climbing Gannett Peak, the tallest in the state, Brian indicated that he was incredibly hungry and, given that I had personally seen him consume food enough for three grown men, I set about preparing dinner for six.

While I cannot remember the exact details of the entire meal, I do remember the couscous. The little durum wheat granules are ideal for backpacking, they are light, keep indefinitely, expand greatly when cooked, require little cooking time (and therefore little fuel), and most importantly, are filling. We prepared mounds of the stuff. Eagerly the three of us tucked in when, after only a few bites, Brian slowed, and then stopped eating. Staring sullenly at his African anthill-size pile of couscous he muttered “I don't feel like eating this. I'll have a bowl of soup instead.”

O.K., couscous is cheap, and we had plenty of food. Still, Brian had asked for the monster serving and Dad and I were a little annoyed. Then it occurred to me: We have no way of getting rid of the excess food. The Wind Rivers are bear country, both black bears and grizzly, and they are attracted to food, so burying was not an option. The prospect of sealing the leftover couscous in a zip-lock bag and packing it out was possible, but unsavoury, as we had nearly a week to go, and none of us wanted to carry the extra weight, forfeit the pack space, or, most importantly, trek around with a quickly fermenting bag of sour grain.

So, we ate it. In a scene not unlike that of the fifty boiled eggs in “Cool Hand Luke” Dad and I forced, choked the couscous down. I don't know if the late Paul Newman ever ate an egg again, but I haven't touched couscous in a decade.

Here's my attempt.



Moorish Lamb

1.5 k lamb shoulder, bone in
1 spanish onion, fine dice
2 carrots, fine dice
1 celery, fine dice
1 c prunes
1 c spanish olives, pitted
3 cardamom pods, bruised
1 cinnamon stick
1 Tbsp coriander
1 tsp black peppercorns
zest 1 lemon
1 strip of zest of orange
1 cup white wine
¼ c red wine vinegar

Heat oven to 160º (320º). Season lamb liberally. In a large pan on medium high heat, using a little olive oil, brown shoulder on all sides and remove from pan. In the same pan sauté the onions, carrots, and celery until the are soft and have coloured a little. Remove from pan. Deglaze pan with white wine.

In a small, dry pan on medium heat, toast the spices until they are aromatic. Place the spices in a muslin bag.

Combine all the ingredients in a large pot add a cup or two of water until the lamb is half covered. Cover the pot and cook in oven 2-3 hours, turning once, until the meat is soft and falling from the bone.

Now, make some couscous (follow the instructions on the bloody packet). Serve the lamb and it's sauce on the couscous. Top with shredded coriander.