Outdoor Cooking

Cooking out of doors in 1940 — bean holes, spits, clambakes and burgoo, from three food writers who thought a campfire was the best joke going.

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Sweet Potato Pone

3 LARGE SWEET POTATOES I CUP MOLASSES I LEMON, JUICE AND GRATED RIND I TEASPOON GINGER OR 1/2 TEASPOON CINNAMON AND 1/4 TEASPOON NUTMEG 3 CUPS WATER I TABLESPOON MELTED BUTTER Grate sweet potatoes on coarse grater. There should be enough to fill about 4 cups. Add remaining ingredients, mix well and pour into well buttered baking dish or thick frying pan. Bake in moderate oven until brown on top, stir crust into pudding also stirring in any browned portion from sides and bottom. Let brown again and repeat. Add a little hot water if necessary and continue until you have a nice brown pudding. Eat hot or cold, with or without cream or sauce.

This pudding accommodates itself both to materials and baking conditions. Milk may be substituted for water, 2-4 eggs and a handful of raisins may be added to make it richer; and it may be baked in oven, reflector oven, or Dutch oven.

For the Modern Kitchen

A grated sweet potato pudding built for a campfire or a wood range, where the cook watches the crust rather than the clock. The stirring is the whole technique.

A Little History

Pone comes from an Algonquian word recorded by early English colonists as apan or appone, meaning something baked, and it entered American English first as the name for cornmeal bread. Sweet potato pone is a different animal that borrowed the word: a grated-root pudding long associated with the kitchens of the coastal South and the Caribbean, where cooks made the same dish with cassava or with yams. Molasses rather than sugar, and water rather than milk or eggs, mark this as the plain version -- cheap, keepable, and made from a crop that stores in a cellar all winter. Its appearance in an outdoor cooking book is practical rather than sentimental: nothing in it spoils on the trail, it wants no beating or leavening, and it will bake equally well in a reflector oven propped by the fire or in a Dutch oven buried in coals, which is exactly the flexibility the author advertises in the last line.

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