20070920 What's For Dinner?

20070920 What’s For Dinner?

All of the remaining non-supervisory interpretive staff have now made the thirty mile journey, by either air or water, from the isolation of Brooks Camp to the big town (pop ~600) of King Salmon. With the change of scene came a great release of pressure. We are now
free of the limtations Brooks Camp imposes. We can
walk around outside while eating. Bears in the grass
and in the woods and in the river do not limit our
travel. For one night we all have our own rooms in
the NPS Dormitory in King Salmon, which means personal
space. And we don’t have to be rangers even when we are off duty. We can be free to just be ourselves.

As a final excercise at park headquarters supervisor Peter asked for our input on how the season went and what we might change about the Brooks Camp operation for next year. Then he asked us to relate the first thing we planned to do upon reaching our various homes. Jen mentioned playing the piano. Others spoke of various activities like hiking. I thought about eating cool refreshing smooth on the palate ice cream. Not sorbet or ice milk or lo-fat or tofutti or any other substitute for America's favorite dessert. I dreamed of high butterfat, real deal, honest to goodness love handle producing ice cream. Yeah buddy. With the exception of one night when Peter brought ice cream from town, we of Brooks Camp have been all summer without that most delicious of treats.

My dream came up in conversation and Peter offered to buy ice cream as a last gesture of appreciation for our hard work all summer. first, though, some of us must drive with Peter to the barge dock to meet an incoming vessel and help unload cargo. Not exactly immediate gratification after having our mental taste buds stimulated, but we would have to wait.
While Peter and a couple others drove to the dock, the rest of us spent time back at the dorm repacking our belongings for the weight and size limitations imposed by the post office and the airlines. Part way through that task the topic of the A&C market hours arose. Someone suggested the market may close as early as 5:30 in the winter. 5:30! Oh no! The time was 5:10 pm. What if by waiting until Peter returned from unloading the barge we miss our chance for fat and sugar induced bliss?

Erica and Jeanne were discussing flavors in the hallway with the rest of us standing around. "Enough talk, let's walk!" I proposed. Ice cream you see is one of my weaknesses. I lose all control. Picking up on my desperation our group strode down the hall toward the exit with lynch mob earnestness. But Erica and Jeanne were way ahead of the game. They had already visited the market, had a rundown on the flavor list (which is why they were discussing flavor specifics not wishes) and knew it stayed open until 7. Stand down the emergency response team! Shortly thereafter Peter arrived and marched us the 10 minutes to the market. He was willing to spring for 3 half-gallons.

I must say at this point the the dairy industry has pulled a fast one on American ice cream gobblers. For decades we have been accustomed to buying the half-gallon size for home consumption. With no fanfare, not even an announcement, sometime in the last couple of years that half-gallon has been downsized to 1.75 quarts. This is an outrage! But I digress.
After much more discussion about flavors, Peter indeed paid for three 1.75 quart containers of ice cream. Greg bought a fourth. Cookies and Cream, Take 5, Bunny Tracks, and Chocolate as I recall. I bought hot fudge and chocolate syrup.

Back at the dorm discussion ensued pursuant to a group decision about when to eat our treasure. After all, none of us had eaten dinner. Then Matt took the lead, announcing, "You guys can wait but I am digging in right now! I am following Tim’s adage of ‘He who eats fastest eats mostest.’" Our newly freed selves turned out to be pigs at the trough. We all ate ice cream for dinner.