Our lives are filled [with] many challenges, and preparing food for human consumption at the old Quarter Circle U Ranch almost fifty years ago was quite a challenge for a tenderfoot like myself.
This act was a constant learning experience that generally ended in failure or constant repetition of preparation with failure. Wow! Now that’s a mouthful of words. Our survival at the U Ranch was dependent on our ability to prepare food that was adequate for our meals, not necessarily for all humans. There was a considerable difference. My first cup of coffee just about killed the mouse that tried to sip it on the boarding room table.
My mother taught me how to boil water, fry an egg, scramble an egg, peel potatoes, fry potatoes, a hamburger or toast bread. Once I moved to the ranch I had to prepare all food on a wood-burning stove and propane gas hot plate. There wasn’t a cookbook in the ranch and no directions as to how to cook on a wood-burning stove. I knew I was a virgin cook awaiting disaster.
The first morning I woke up at 3:30 a.m. and prepared to feed the livestock before the day’s work begun. I was told to build a fire in the wood-burning stove before I fed the livestock. This act insured me a hot stove to cook on after feeding. Using the wood stove would also conserve on our limited supply of propane gas. I never forgot that first morning working in a rickety, rusty old sink filled with scorpions. The drain in the sink had three slots in it. These scorpions would run up through the slots then back down into the drainpipe. They soon made me painfully aware of their presence. First it was my thumb, then my little finger that got stung.
Tex Barkley had warned me of such inconveniences while preparing a meal in the kitchen. I slowly peeled some potatoes while nursing my burning appendages. I soon found out scorpion stings on the U Ranch were a common occurrence. Scorpions would get into your boots, into your clothing, and under the lid of [the] outside toilet. Do I have to explain what caution I used at the outside privy? Even though the stings were somewhat painful they were part of a cowboy’s life. Oh yes, I poured hot water down the pipe and other things to no real avail. Barkley wouldn’t allow me to call the local pest control company some fifty miles away in Phoenix.
Now, for that fire in the wood burning stove. I wouldn’t have minded this slight change in plans if all things had gone well. The problem was that nothing was going well that morning. Have you ever tried to get a fire going in a wood stove with the damper closed? I didn’t even know what a damper was let alone how it worked. I tried everything with the stove but couldn’t get things working correctly. Finally I resorted to [the] Coleman gasoline we used in our lanterns. This was a big mistake. It’s only a miracle that old U Ranch bunkhouse is still standing and Chuck Backus can enjoy it today.
Prideful about my stroke of genius with the Coleman fuel, I struck the match and touched off an explosion that rocked the kitchen. Suddenly I had fire everywhere, except where I needed it, in the stove. I ran outside and flames [were] shooting out the tin chimney. I was certain for a moment the ranch house was going to be history. I had used only a small cup of white gas on the wood in the stove. With both my eyebrows and the hair on my arms singed I had learned a valuable lesson about using Coleman fuel indoors.
There was another occasion when an “ignorant” cowboy tried to start a branding iron fire with Coleman fuel on a cold morning. He poured a large amount of white gas on some mesquite logs then fiddled around with his damp matches trying to ignite one. In the meantime the vapors of white gas had spread on the ground and gone up both pant legs. You can imagine his surprise when he finally ignited one of the matches and tossed it on the legs. He didn’t need to worry about hair on his legs for [a] couple of months.
Have you ever tried to advise a hardheaded cowpuncher? This was called “learning by experience.” By the time the branding iron fire was ready I knew the basic characteristics of Coleman fuel on a cold morning.
Nursing scorpion stings and singed eyebrows, I turned to the simplest form of cooking I understood. I turned on the two propane hot plate burners and placed two skillets on them. I peeled and sliced potatoes into one and fried bacon in the other. After the bacon was done I scrambled my eggs. Actually, in the end, I had an excellent breakfast considering the previous disasters.
Once my food was prepared I carried it into the front room of the ranch house and placed it on the big red boarding house table. I lit the Coleman lantern over the table. As I sat at the table and looked at the stars out the window I ate my first breakfast at the old Quarter Circle U Ranch. I was satisfied with my accomplishment, but there were many learning experiences ahead.
[Part 2, August 16, 2004]
As I stared out the window I could understand how an old cowboy could fall in love with such a place. The silence was deafening and darkness outside was as black as ink except for the twinkling of distant stars. Not a sound could be heard, but the occasional noise from the corral where one of the horse’s shoes came into contact with a stone while walking about. Suddenly the silence of the night was broken with the yip of a distant coyote. As I stared out the window at the heavens and I suddenly realized how insignificant I was in this wilderness. This isolation gave me the feeling of loneliness. Then one of Barkley’s cow dogs scratched at the door begging to get in. He smelled the bacon all the way down at the barn. I got up and walked over to the door and let him in. Now I wasn’t alone. I gave the cow dog what little leftovers there were.
Quickly I cleaned up the dishes and headed down to the barn and grained the horses. Barkley had instructed me to count the chickens every morning when I fed. I usually fed just at twilight. As I opened the cow barn door I could see the chickens all roosting on a rack above the hay. We still had fourteen chickens and no coyote, fox, or other [varmint] had chicken on his menu the night before. In the days ahead I would be at war with the wildlife that wanted to deprive me of the chickens or their eggs, a real commodity in this desert wilderness.
When Barkley left food for a month it included flour, [a] wheel of longhorn cheese, [a] slab of bacon, pinto beans, [a] case of canned peaches, twenty pounds of potatoes, a large piece of beef, six large bags of elbow macaroni, one pound of coffee and a large bag of red chili. Barkley was known for feeding his men well, but most of what he left required “making from scratch.”
Each morning after feeding I would gather the eggs. Usually I would gather six to eight eggs, if I could find them. It was common to find both harmless and poisonous snakes in the barn that had journeyed there in search of food. Usually the snakes were looking for eggs. This particular day I was free of such danger. The future would bring encounters with large rattlesnakes.
After the day’s chores were done, I would feed about sundown and then return to the ranch house to once again prepare a meal. I cooked a lot of pinto beans. First I would pour three to four large cups out on the big red table in the front room and sort through them eliminating any stones or debris. Then I would wash them carefully, then let them soak overnight. I would start the bean cooking process the next morning by sitting them on the propane hot plate. I would let them cook for an hour then turn them off. Barkley had warned me about always putting a heavy rock on the bean pot lid when the beans were sitting on the stove and especially after they were done. He often would laugh and say, “It will hold in the gas generated by the beans.”
I thought this was quite peculiar, but I soon learned why you place a rock on the bean pot lid. If you have ever lifted the lid on your bean pot and found a dead mouse looking you in the eye you would fully understand the purpose of the heavy rock on the lid… and it wasn’t for keeping the gas on the beans.
Cooking on the wood stove would be a skill I would sooner or later have to master if I was going to work on a small cattle spread. Learning to cook properly meant survival to a young tenderfoot such as myself. After a few months I was quite proficient with the wood stove. I learned to start it properly, knew what the damper was all about and how to use the oven to bake biscuits. Oh, biscuits are another story on the Quarter Circle U Ranch in Pinal County.
I will never forget the first morning I tried to bake my first pan of biscuits. I didn’t have a convenient store-bought box [of] biscuit mix. I made my batter from scratch. I mixed white flour, water, a dash of salt, half a cup of powdered milk, and two cups of water. I mixed up the dough and added a little bacon lard. Once the batter was mixed well I rolled it out flat. Let it sit for a while and used a small can for a cutter. Once the biscuits were cut I placed them on a thin sheet and then in the oven at about 300 degrees and cooked them for 15 to 20 minutes.
The first biscuits were not good. As a matter of fact, as soon as they cooled they were as hard as rocks. Even the cow dogs wouldn’t eat them. I found out what baking soda was used for. Pretty soon I was producing pretty good biscuits.
I survived food preparation on the old Quarter Circle U Ranch. Evidenced by the fact that I’m still here. Working on the Quarter Circle U Ranch was a tough and sometimes dangerous experience, but it certainly had its rewards. I enjoyed the beautiful slopes of the Superstition Mountains free of development and almost virgin. To be honest I wouldn’t have traded this experience for anything. It made me a better person. I learned to respect my fellow man, animals and the environment. I choose to believe all things could live in harmony.
I hope so.