Somewhere along the Madison River in Montana (near West Yellowstone, Montana): Well, I had myself quite a morning, Dear Reader. Woke at five o’clock to remove pie pastry (i.e. Pillsbury) and a bowl of pitted/halved cherries that had been macerating all night in sugar, cornstarch, lemon juice, pinch of salt, pinch of cinnamon, from the fridge to come to room temperature. Then I went back to bed.
A few hours later, while DT went out on a bike ride along the Snake River bike paths, I baked a cherry crostata. Why? We are having dinner with Brother Rick tonight and Dave and I were hosting (and I am cooking). Rick is in his RV fly fishing on the Madison River.
The Barbie oven in our RV claims it can reach 390 degrees - top speed - but I have never been able to get it that high. My tart would have liked 400°, but I put the tart in at 350° (it took 25 minutes for the oven to reach even that), as the temperature does tend to climb over time. Thing is, the stoopid oven beeps all the time for no reason I can decipher. Maddening. Anyway, it was a small tart and was suitably browned and bubbly in 45 minutes, when I removed it from the oven, burning my arm on the oven thermometer. Rat farts.
Then I sliced the middle finger on my left hand cleaning strawberries! I grabbed a paper towel, plopped down on the banquette to wrap the wound in the paper towel and admire the tart as it cooled, knocking over my full cup of coffee onto the floor. I did a great job too - it went everywhere - on the table, on the floor, on the front part of the banquette, on my shoes sitting by the door. It looked as if I had spilled a gallon of coffee! My 40-year-old blue and white Taiwanese mug that I have my coffee from every morning survived the disaster. If it had shattered, I would have cried (I do have several more at home). No reason to cry. Better to just laugh at the burned, bleeding lady without her morning caffeine who had just baked a pretty little tart for her little brother in a Barbie oven.
The clean-up began and I kept finding what I thought was cherry juice everywhere, only to realize my finger was still bleeding. Jeesh.
Carriage return. New paragraph.
We were organized and ready to go late morning. The RV park filled our LP tank (we don’t think it was full upon purchase, but can’t recall), and we hit-up a grocer on our way out of town. One thing on our shopping list was a small chocolate cake. This cake was for the host in the teeny Forest Service campground where my brother was staying in his Winnebago RV built over a Sprinter chassis. The campground was full, but the host agreed to let our two RVs camp together on one campsite, provided he receive a little chocolate cake. So funny!
Fridge and pantry loaded, we pointed the Petit Peregrinus East to Montana. It is a very pretty drive, along Highway 20, and one we have enjoyed many times before. After traveling for miles through acres of potatoes, the road heads up and up towards Yellowstone and the Rocky Mountains. Along the way today, we were treated to vistas of The Grand Tetons! Marvelous.
We found Rick's campsite - and Rick (my brother who lives in Sisters, Oregon) - and he proceeded to tour our new RV, while the camp host came by to collect his rent (the cake) and teased us, saying he had specifically requested a large cake. A real comedian, this guy. Rick liked our new RV and is positive we are going to love traveling in a smaller RV and not towing a car. (Rick tows a drift boat!)
I had everything ready to go for dinner - lamb bolognese over pappardelle - with a Caesar Salad (ready-made in bag, don't judge, I'm camping), garlic bread, and the juicy tart (with whipped cream in a squirt can). Gourmet all the way, eh? It took forever for the pasta water to boil at over 6000 feet elevation. Dinner was served inside our camper, due to hundreds of uninvited guests: mosquitos. After dinner, Rick's fishing buddy of many years, Dave (from Florida via New Jersey), came by for a slice of the tart. No leftovers tonight. We talked for hours and a fun time during this quick visit with my brother and finally meeting Dave.
I promise photos tomorrow - it was too dark tonight.
Until my next update, I remain, your Montana correspondent.
Campground Information: middle of nowhere. No services. We paid $5 for a small cake.