Sandcastle Momma

My husband shot my coffee pot! It may or may not have been my fault.

Many years ago, like a decade or more, Troy’s best friend and his wife were at our house for dinner.

Troy was blackening fish and as he turned away from the stove, his buddy walked in and proclaimed the fish to be done.

He flipped them onto plates and handed them to his wife and I.

The fish was delicious. To poke at Troy we started talking about how his friend makes the best blackened fish ever.

Troy got his knickers in a bunch, saying he cooked the fish but his friend got all of the credit.

Because he considers himself the best chef ever that really bothered him. Ever since, when I want to poke the bear, I’ll say something about the best blackened fish I’ve ever eaten. Which always makes steam come out of his ears.

So here we are, many moons later and I’ve been having trouble with our camp coffee pot. I have a small one cup pot with a clear bubble on the top and because I can see the coffee as it perks, I know when it’s ready. But it’s one cup at a time which is a problem in the woods on a cold morning.

Troy finds a big pot at a yard sale and declares it the new coffee pot. But it has no bubble on the top so you can’t see the color of the coffee as it brews. That’s a problem because without looking at the color of campfire coffee you either get almost clear coffee or you get a cup full of mud.

After many camping trips I can say this coffee pot consistently makes the worse coffee I have ever had. I keep complaining and wanting to get a full-sized pot just like the old one. He keeps insisting we don’t need no stinkin’ bubble on the top to make good camp coffee.

He was determined to prove that he could make good coffee with this pot. On our next camping trip to Tower Camp he stood there with his watch timing things. He kept his ear close to the pot so he could hear the perking. Then at some magical point declared it to be done.

He poured some into my cup and seemed surprised when it was the color of tea. I rolled my eyes; he poured the coffee back into the pot and cooked it some more.

When it done it was absolutely the worst cup of coffee I’ve EVER had. It was so thick I could have eaten it with a spoon.

He did not like hearing that, so he made more.

The second pot was as bad as the first. The third came out tea like again.

This was Friday afternoon so he threw his hands up and declared that he’d figured out what the problem was. Saturday morning’s coffee would be better.

I didn’t believe him. Saturday morning rolled around and with it came a yet another cup of burnt, really bad coffee.

His friend, the one from the fish story, got to camp a little later. I said something about the bad coffee so he got his coffee pot – which is the kind with the bubble on top – and made me a decent cup of coffee.

I couldn’t resist poking the bear so I looked at Troy and said “This is the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

The next morning came and his friend made more good coffee. I could not resist poking the bear again by talking about how delicious the coffee was.

A few hours later Troy tells me that he wants to make a video but won’t tell me what he wants to video.

“Just take the camera, stand over there and tell me when you’re rolling” he says.

So I did – and this is what happened.

Poking my bear has been fun for many years but I’m starting to think I shouldn’t poke him as much.

Well, at least not about his cooking skills. And I got to get a new coffee pot. The right kind of coffee pot which produces good coffee every time.