My friends & I have very different camp cooking styles & it’s tearing me apart – What should I do?

Pat is our resident Agony Uncle, here to provide a listening ear and sound advice to all your outdoor woes.

‘We have close friends who we’ve done trips with: campers in the desert, Kimberley and High Country, as well as kayaking in remote Tassie. They love eating and cooking. That is their big thing out in the boonies. Their big ritual! For my wife and I, we just want to eat quick, simple and with no hassles. Sometimes cheese and crackers are all we want. I reckon they get a bit snotty when we say, “Nah, we’ll sort out our own tucker” but I’m out there to see snakes and lizards and birdies, not stare into the fire and contemplate the bottom of my frypan! And they spend HOURS on it. My time budget for tucker is 15–20 minutes (including washing dishes) then chill. I am immovable on this and we plan doing a few trips alone to eliminate the issue.’ – Liz Lover

Forgive me, Liz, but what is the charge here? Eating a meal? A succulent outdoor meal?

In all seriousness, I’m not quite sure I understand the issue. It sounds like you have great friends who love camping, enjoy spending time with you, and their favourite part of the whole experience is putting on a delicious spread. Have you not hit the jackpot?

I get that camp cooking isn’t your thing. I’m right there with you. My taste buds are appalling and given the option of a meal-replacement pill, I’d take three a day whether I was camping or at home. The best meal I’ve ever had was a Nutella spaghetti on a hike through the Sierra Nevada. These were the only ingredients left after seven days of schlepping through the mountains and it was, I maintain, a triumph of fusion cuisine.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting a quick meal, Liz. After a day spent paddling in Tasmania, hiking through the High Country or bouncing around on a corrugated track, your dinner of cheese and crackers is a Michelin-starred effort. You’ve put together a thing of beauty. It has multiple ingredients, requires assembly, and can be enjoyed with a view – no notes, chef.

I don’t think you need to justify your culinary ambition or preferred ratio of preparation to eating to dishwashing. That said, nor do your friends. Cooking might be how they turn a campsite into a home and make a trip feel special. Consider that your friends might enjoy feeding people as much as you enjoy looking for birds.

Case in point: how would you feel if you came across a Coxen’s fig parrot after hours of searching, only to turn and catch your friends looking at pictures of penguins on LinkedIn – What Antarctic Ice Decline Taught Me About B2B Sales – instead? A little deflating, right?

Your friends can’t (and shouldn’t) force you to enjoy their slow-cooked stew. But if cooking is how they make a trip memorable, I can understand why your indifference might sting a little.

And I do worry that your preference has become a moral position. You’ve said your time budget is 15–20 minutes, dishes included, and that you’re immovable on this. You’ve even decided to travel alone to checks notes eliminate the issue.

If you haven’t already, please, please have a conversation with your friends. Find out if they actually mind that you’re more cheese and crackers than candlelit feast. If they’re cooking for hours and you’re expecting a feed without lifting a finger, I can see a problem. But if you’re simply sorting out your own dinner, what’s the issue? Is it possible you’ve mistaken disappointment for snottiness? Do they really just want to share the evening with you?

Consider making room for your friends’ interests, rather than abandoning trips with them altogether. Would it be so bad cooking together one night, or sharing a communal meal? Surely there’s a way to make it work: they cook, you continue exploring, then you return to pour the wine. What’s not to love about that?

And don’t worry, Liz. If it hits 21 minutes and your world starts falling apart, you have my permission to go looking for lizards.

Got a question you’d love our Agony Uncle to half-answer with a bunch of anecdotes? Shoot it over to editorial@weareexplorers.co with ‘Agony Uncle’ in the subject line.

Feature photo thanks to Amy Fairall