Cooking on the road is different and here are two examples:
It’s freezing cold and a windy 9 degrees up on the Darling Downs in Queensland. While Woody simmers a pot of homemade pumpkin soup on the outside stove, I photograph birds. Grass parrots of an indescribable green, a butcher bird pecking amongst the weeds, willy wagtails dancing and spinning about, Indian minahs and a lone mudlark. Cooking on the road is such a chore, not.
Summertime in the Victorian High Country means letting a nice fire build up in the fire pit then wrapping a boned out leg of lamb with of course a little garlic, rosemary and olive oil and putting it on the hot plate and burying a few also foil wrapped spuds in the coals. While the meat cooks we sip a red wine, listen to the babble of the river and watch the eagle eyed kookaburras sitting on the branch above waiting for a lizard or better still a snake to chance by. The fairy wrens hop about the grass on their tiny toothpick legs. A simple salad is about the only effort that is needed for a perfect meal. As the sun drops behind the range we stare into the flames and talk mumbo jumbo over a port or one of Woody’s wicked Affogatos until we fall into bed utterly exhausted.