TRUE TALES
FROM THE LYING LOG By Bufford T. Clapsaddle Clapsaddle has been told many times that countless delectable recipes acquire a distinctive taste totally by accident. Such, it turns out, was the case with Clapsaddle’s highly popular green bean stew. In the late 1970s and early 80s the looked-forward-to concoction traditionally began its preparation on the second day of horse pack trips into the Rocky Mountain high country. Stewing was an all-day, communal effort. Post breakfast, those not hobbling horses to graze for the day, began snapping a generous bag of green beans and tossing the two-inch lengths into the large cooking kettle. Water started to boil and the co-op cooks volunteered for their responsibilities to the slow simmering pot. Wayne kept feeding the fire. Phil chunked potatoes into one-inch squares for mid-afternoon addition. Chopped carrots and onions were Mark’s contributions in late afternoon. Within the last half hour prior to chow time, Duane tossed in an abundance of slivered mushrooms, followed by a couple of pounds of tasty Wisconsin summer sausage, ala Brynn. Charlie augmented with at least 24 ounces of shredded sharp cheddar. Coors and Budweiser cans were popped, the two most popular brews not contained in difficult-to-pack bottles in those days. (We enjoyed Fat Tire and Mama’s Little Yella Pils on the latest trip in 2015.) The U-shaped Lying Logs became silent when dinner was served as is consistently the case when pairing mountain appetites with savory green bean stew. So the genesis of the unplanned, enhanced stew was set in motion in a 1977 sojourn of the Knight Riders (a collection of college buds from across the country who came to Colorado annually to join Clapsaddle for a horseback retreat). Cutthroat were biting actively that previous day at Mystic Isle Lake near the old mining town of Fulford south of Eagle. Not an angler, Christian volunteered for complete green bean stew duties for the day. Therefore, when the sun was disappearing over Iron Edge Mountain that evening, comments on the Lying Log were unanimous: this was the most mouthwatering stew yet. Succulent! Scrumptious! Even epicurean! Eventually, Christian confessed. At some point in midafternoon, he was enjoined by a bad case of the high country nods. Upon awakening, he readily noted the water had boiled away from the stew and he had neglected to fetch some H2O from the stream. Being a quick thinker, Christian grabbed a quart of Dewar’s and emptied the entire bottle into the stew. The supreme complement. The only “neigh-sayer” was ol’ Pepper, the lead pack horse, who for many a year had to tote in an extra bottle of Scotch. Bufford T. Clapsaddle (aka Wilbur Flachman) is a retired newspaper and magazine publisher who has guided hundreds of horse pack trips into the Rocky Mountains for family, friends and business associates during the past 45 years. Majority of his tales are revealed only at timberline.
ThirstColorado.com
Winter 2016
13