My job was to fill the kettles with water so I marched off to collect water from the `centre`. I thought to myself, “They’ve got some nerve calling it a centre. It’s not much bigger than a shed and it’s only got two toilets and a sink.” I began to fill the kettles, which couldn’t hold enough water to drown a rat, however, the water seemed a good colour to poison a rat so maybe it would have some use. The `water` was a rusty brown colour. We were told it was drinkable but I wasn’t so sure. Unfortunately, we had to drink it, as that was the only water available for miles. I showed the `water` to the group and they reluctantly filled up the pot with the sickening substance. Alex then emptied most of rice into the pot with the water.
We lit the small camping stove and waited for the rice to boil and the three cans of Chicken Curry to heat up. I realised what people meant when they say ‘a watched pot never boils’. After a seemingly interminable wait, the rice finally began to boil. And when rice boils it expands - and absorbs water. One minute the pot was full up to the brim with rice the next it was overflowing.
“The Rice!” shouted Frazer who quickly grabbed a spoon and began digging for dear life in the pot of rice. We all grabbed a spoon (little mini camping spoons) and began to dig and dig and dig our way out of the rice. We eventually managed to get the rice in the pot to an acceptable level while the pile of rice on the ground rose to an unacceptable level when the rice began to burn. It had consumed all the water and now it was just going to burn and stick to the pan. None of us had ever cooked rice before and were astounded at what had happened. I, for one, was wishing now that we had just stuck with Super Noodles. We hurriedly removed the rice from the stove hoping that it wasn’t too badly burned.
The curry was steaming by this time so I began to dish it up when Chris declared, “I don’t want no curry!” We could not believe our ears. There was enough curry to feed six people and enough rice to feed a small army for several weeks. We had gone through a lot of pain in preparing this meal while he had done very little. We all bellowed that he must eat something even if we had to force it down his throat. With Chris ‘persuaded’, I began to dish out the ‘dish’ of the day.
I began to serve up the curry onto the four plates. It smelt surprisingly nice compared to the dung we had smelled all day walking through the fields. Although, by that time we were so hungry we would have eaten that same dung!
The next mission (should I choose to accept) was to hack into the rice and attempt to deposit it on the plates. We had inadvertently put the stove on a slant so the rice on one side of the pot was burnt to a crisp while the rice on the other side was suffering from hypothermia. Unfortunately, there was no perfectly cooked middle section to eat. I dished out a mixture of the washed–out soggy rice and the flame grilled rice to each person. As you can guess the rice was inedible. You could pick up whole slabs of rice with your hand and when you bit into it crunched. One thing was for sure though, Chris wasn’t going to eat it and I can’t say I blamed him. I wasn’t going to risk it either. All the rice, enough to feed the five thousand, was hurled into nearby ferns. Never mind though, we thought, we still had the chicken curry and we could eat that without rice. However, when we bit into the chicken it tasted like rubber and we could have been there chewing it until the cows came home. Consequently, all the chicken pieces were then added to the pile of steaming rice already nestling in the ferns. Unsurprisingly we remained hungry that night dreaming of hot, steaming Super Noodles!
I have not eaten chicken curry and rice since that weekend. It used to be my favourite dish. I always found it so easy to eat; I never realised just how difficult it is to cook. Cooking curry and rice should be left to the professionals (Mum). I often think about the poor ferns and wonder if they survived the trauma. I sometimes suffer pangs of guilt fearing that some unsuspecting animal has choked on a block of char-grilled rice.
As I said before the most valuable lesson I learned was how not to cook rice. However, since that weekend I have developed a taste and a talent for cooking Supper Noodles. I don’t think I’m the only one!
