Camp Shmilmot: Part I

The scene is Camp Shmilmot, a small, um, Episcopalian camp in rural, um, Vermont.

Two girls, Smeather and Catrina (with a C, not a K) sit in their beds, knitting (poorly), while a DVD of the NBC comedy “The Office” plays in the background.

Smeather: I think my body hurts from Zumba.

Catrina: Me too. Probably too much shimmying.

Smeather: Is it possible to knit a scarf inside out?

Catrina: I don’t think so.

Smeather: Well, I just did.

Catrina: I’m going to whip up some sort of cucumber based dipping sauce. Want some?

Smeather: You know I’m allergic to cucumbers. Besides, I’m a dedicated carnivore, I only eat meat.

Catrina: Right. Sorry, I forgot.

Smeather: And yet you always get so upset when I forget that you’re half Korean, not half Japanese.

Catrina: Not all Asian people are alike, Smeather!

Smeather: Whatever. How about pterodactyl burgers instead?

Catrina: Sounds great. Food always tastes better when it’s illegal.

Catrina walks to the kitchen

Catrina: (Shouts) How do you want your dino-patty cooked? Medium? Medi—

A loud, clattering sound

Heather: What’s all that noise?

No response

End scene.

Don’t forget to check out Fun Facts and Would You Rather, they’re particularly awesome this week.

From the Camp Wilmot Test Kitchen

Some of you may already know, or have perhaps gleaned from the title of our blog, that your Camp Wilmot Resident Directors are, well, a bit peculiar. And this extends to our diet—or, more precisely, our particular dietary restrictions. Heather’s really the big winner in this category, as she is both a vegetarian and allergic to tomatoes. But Katrina has recently developed a mild form of lactose intolerance and refuses to eat any form of dried fruit (it’s unnatural!). This makes mealtime at the ol’ farmhouse something of a daily adventure; dinner often looks like a scene out of “Julie and Julia.” We perform a lot of culinary experiments, partially out of boredom, mostly out of curiosity and have created some really tasty dishes and produced a few flops. We present to you

THE BEST OF HEATHER AND KATRINA’S EPICUREAN INVESTIGATIONS

Vegan Butternut Squash Soup

Ingredients: a couple of butternut squash (we don’t really know how to choose a good squash, we typically just pick the ones with the weirdest shape), vegetable broth, minced garlic, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt and pepper.

It’s a pretty simple ingredient list, and would actually be a pretty simple dish if it weren’t for the rind (?) on the squash. It’s nearly impossible to peel the rind off and one or both of us usually comes very near to losing a digit while preparing the squash for consumption. Once you’ve made it past that hurtle, however, things get much easier. Just boil the squash and garlic in the vegetable broth until it’s soft and then stick it in the blender—if you ask me, there really aren’t enough foods that can be made in a blender. Blend until you’ve got something roughly the consistency of baby food, add spices and voilà, soup’s on!

Tacos a lá H and K

You’re probably asking yourself, “What could a meat free, tomato free, lactose light taco night possibly consist of?” I’m glad you asked…

Ingredients: bell peppers (assorted colors), onions (color inconsequential), canned black beans, canned whole kernel corn, chopped cilantro, minced garlic, sour cream, hot sauce, shredded cheese, tortillas, guacamole (see recipe below), cumin, chili powder, garlic powder, salt, pepper

To start, we like to sauté the peppers, onions and garlic together with a liberal sprinkling of garlic powder, cumin, and chili powder.  Next we combine the beans, corn and cilantro in a separate pot, add salt and pepper and heat. Then there’s the guacamole…

Ingredients: avocadoes, red onion, cilantro, garlic powder, salt, pepper, lime juice

To start, smush the avocado all up with a fork, or your hands, it’s pretty fun. Chop up the onion and cilantro and mix it in with the avocado. Sprinkle in some spices then drench the whole thing with lime juice. Easy, right?

Once you’ve got the guacamole all mixed up, it’s just a matter of assembling your taco: Peppers and onions on the bottom, then the beans and corn, large spoonfuls of guacamole and sour cream on top, sprinkle with cheese and drizzle with hot sauce. Olé!

And now you’re probably thinking, “That seems like a lot of dairy for someone who is claiming to be mildly lactose intolerant.” And you are correct. For this particular dish, you just suck it up and hope for the best, it’s worth it.

Falafel

Ingredients: one box falafel mix (what? You though we made this from scratch), pita or flat bread, hummus, sliced cucumbers, sliced tomatoes (prepared far, far away from Heather), spinach.

We like this recipe because the whole thing can be made in less than 15 minutes. To start, follow the instructions for the falafel mix—usually add water to the mix, stir, and let sit for ten minutes. While you wait, heat a bit of oil in a frying pan and start slicing those veggies. After the ten minutes has elapsed, form the falafel mix into something resembling a ball (mine are never perfectly round, but as close as you can get), and place in the hot oil. You’ll want to roll them around a bit, to make sure they’re browning evenly; the goal is a crispy, golden brown outer shell.

Remove the falafel from the oil and let drain on a paper towel. While the falafel cools, prepare your pita! Smear with hummus, add veggies and, when they’re ready, a couple of your falafel spheres. This is a pretty great dish if you’re trying to impress somebody. They’ll think you’re very worldly and wise and a genius at mixing spices. Just make sure to stash the box somewhere it won’t be found.

AND THE WORST…

No butter oatmeal chocolate chip cookies

We were halfway through mixing up a batch of cookies when we realized we were out of butter. We live pretty far back in the woods so a “quick trip to the store” is more like a thirty minute, epic journey through miles of forest and winding roads past no fewer than three libraries and an alpaca farm. Sufficed to say, we weren’t going to pop out for a couple of sticks of butter. Instead we googled, “out of butter, trying to make cookies, help!” The search returned something like one million results. A few benevolent bakers suggested a substitution of vegetable shortening—we happened to have a tub in the kitchen. We don’t recommend this. The cookies looked beautiful, and were about as chewy as hockey pucks.

No egg banana bread

Same idea here. We were trying to use up some bananas that were getting a wee bit squishy and thought we might bake some banana bread. The recipe called for two eggs, we had none. So, being the clever, experimental bakers that we are, we substituted a random amount of vegetable oil. Again, not recommended, unless you love really dry, dense, crumbly banana bread.

And that’s the news from the Camp Wilmot Test Kitchen—don’t forget to check out our “Would You Rather” and “Fun Facts” pages.

Until next week,

H and K

Why living at a camp is great…

We’ve officially hit the two month mark in our tenure as Resident Directors here at Camp Wilmot and we’ve had ample time to reflect on our unusual living situation. We’d like to share with you the Top 15 Reasons Why Living At A Summer Camp Is The Best.

1. If we didn’t want to, we would never have to wash our dishes. With enough dish/silverware for hundreds of guests, we could just fling our dirty dishes on the front lawn or somewhere out in the woods, which would actually really reduce our dish soap/sponge costs. Our Board of Directors probably wouldn’t appreciate this, nor would the EPA, but it’s interesting to think about nonetheless.
2. Along the same lines as #1, we could probably go a pretty long time without cleaning our bathroom, just rotating through the many bathrooms at camp. Sure, it would be a pain to have to walk all the way out to the cabins just to brush your teeth or “use the facilities” but again, we like that we have that option.
3. We always have mail to open. It’s not always the best mail, but we still get pretty excited every time we open the mailbox. We get a lot of interesting catalogues too. Ever heard of Bubber? We hadn’t either, until the Discount School Supply: Active Edition showed up in our mailbox. Know the going rate for a teeter totter or a dozen hula hoops? We do.
4. There is an abundance of sequins and glitter. You should see some of the crafts we make!
5. This isn’t so much to do with living at camp, but more about why living and working at the same place is great. While we try not to exercise this privilege too often, we can, and have on more than one occasion, gone to work in our pajamas.
6. While this one is still really in the “concept” stage, we’ve realized just how much space we have should we wish to construct the ultimate box fort. We’ve been meaning to contact IKEA to see what they do with all of those old couch boxes.
7. We have our own pond. Katrina is actually terrified of this pond (or, more specifically the creepy crawly thingsliving in it) and is going to do just about everything she can to avoid swimming in it but it’s nice to be able to casually drop the phrase “our private pond” into conversation.
8. It’s okay for us to have balloons in our office. And stuffed animals. And garden gnomes. And guitars.
9. The camp has its own popcorn machine. We haven’t used it yet, but we do both love popcorn, so we sense a lot of potential for some creative popcorn projects.
10. No TV. While we’ve been missing some of our favorite shows, the lack of television really keeps us more productive. We’re pretty easily distracted anyway, but at least this way Patrick Dempsey isn’t preventing us from keeping up with our e-mail correspondence.
11. We’re going to get really good at hide-and-seek.
12. Every day is like a scavenger hunt. This sort of goes along with #11, but with so many odd nooks and crannies, there are a lot of places where potentially useful items could be hiding. Can’t find a glue stick? Check that weird cubby hole above the bathroom door. Autoharps? We keep those in the office closet.
13. We live on a 200 acre property with plenty of woods and hiking trails. This is pretty ideal for dumping a dead body, but it also makes for some killer (pun intended) outdoor recreation.
14. Our game closet is full of great board games and puzzles and other weird, fun things. Catch Phrase is our favorite.
15. It’s really fun to tell people that you live at a camp. Seriously, try it some time, the reactions are priceless. Do you have heat up there? Where do you do your cooking? Is there electricity? How do you shower?

Answers to these questions and more in our next blog post.

Until then,

H and K

On being 24…

Welcome to our blog, and our inaugural post. We’re going to try to update this page every Wednesday, so keep checking in or sign up to follow the Wilmot Weirdos. Also, click through the tabs up top, there’s some good stuff going on up there.

Without further ado…

I celebrated my 24^th birthday yesterday. It was a little quieter than birthdays past, for one important reason, I think: Twenty four is, in my opinion, one of those throwaway birthdays. Consider, at ten you become a distinguished member of the “double digit” club, you’re a teenager at thirteen, then there’s the sweet sixteen, followed by eighteen, when you gain the right to vote, buy cigarettes and porn and lotto tickets, all of the vices of adulthood.  Twenty one is, well, twenty one and at twenty two you’re no longer twenty one, which probably seems inconsequential but is significant in that waitresses and bartenders and liquor store clerks will stop commenting on your “twenty one-ness” when scrutinizing your ID. At twenty five I will be able to run for Congress (Vote Hill 2013!) and rent a car without paying what I will call the “youth tax.” At thirty five I’ll be eligible to run for the Presidency (my PAC is still in the planning stages), and the list goes on. Twenty four is something of a non-event.  I’ve reached no major milestone, gained no important rights or privileges. Still, having lived one whole day as a twenty four-year-old, I’ve had some time to reflect on my life thus far. The part of me that tends toward melodramatic displays and an inherent tendency towards cheesiness will now share some of those reflections.

(1) At age four my major life’s ambition was to become a dog (ask my parents). When that dream didn’t pan out, I thought I might become the next best thing—a doctor. I spent most of my adolescence believing I would one day practice medicine. A couple of months as an urgent care volunteer and two courses in organic chemistry taught me that medicine is not my calling. Sure, I like to check my symptoms on WebMD as much as the next person, but I no longer have any desire to become a physician. Today, I work as a co-resident director at a small camp in rural New Hampshire (who saw that coming?) and spend the majority of my days struggling with various social media “tools” and trying to figure out where that weird sound is coming from. Is this what I thought I would be doing at four, or fourteen? Definitely not. Do I have any idea what I’ll be doing at 34 or 44? Not at all. That’s the beauty and curse of being twenty four, the doubt and uncertainty mingled with almost limitless possibility. Check back with me at twenty five, maybe I’ll have the whole dog thing figured out by then.

(2) 60% of the members of my immediate family are male. With two brothers and a dad who are all pretty sports obsessed, we watch a lot of football at home. Sadly, I never have any idea what’s going on. You might think that after twenty four years of watching games with these people I would have picked up a thing or two. Not so. What does a cornerback do? I couldn’t tell you. Where’s the pocket? I don’t know, apparently it’s not something on your clothing. In two decades of life, I still know nothing about football. Other things I do not know or understand that I probably should know or understand at the age of twenty four: How to spell the word occasion without assistance from spell check. Canadian politics and Canadian culture in general. How to iron shirtsleeves. Twitter.  The internet. Where baby corn comes from. How to cut a pineapple. The stock market. I could keep going but the list would be interminable.

(3) I look just like the picture on my driver’s license. It was taken when I was fifteen. Apparently, in the nine years since, I have aged only three or four days. What I don’t know is whether I was a prematurely old-looking fifteen-year-old or if I am a very youthful looking twenty four-year old. I suspect it’s the latter, my half-Asian genes being what they are and because people routinely ask me what grade I’m in. Two years ago, at the age of twenty two, I was carded at a rated R movie. I’m told that I should enjoy looking young while it lasts, that I’ll be disappointed when bartenders stop asking to see my ID. It’s just that at the current rate I’ll probably look thirty five well into my eighties, and I’ll be getting carded at early bird dinners and AARP events.

(4) Twenty four is an awkward age. I feel very much trapped somewhere between adolescence and adulthood. I bought a pair of what I consider to be rather respectable looking boots for my first winter in New Hampshire; I routinely wear them with a pair of novelty socks. My desk is littered with business cards and office supply catalogues and a Sea Monkey aquarium. We keep bagels, English muffins, low fat yogurt, granola, etc. around the house, but today I ate two pieces of birthday cake for breakfast. I take adult gummy vitamins. Twenty four is all about maintaining that balance between youthfulness and adult responsibility. I don’t know that I’ve struck that perfect balance just yet, but I like to think I’m getting there.

So that’s my take on twenty four, complete with all of my annoying, philosophical musings. Tune in next week for some lighter fare, maybe an update on my newly acquired Sea Monkeys or the best ways to bother your roommate (tin whistles are high on the list) or maybe Heather will chime in on things that really “burn her biscuits.”

Until then,

Katrina