Friday is reserved for smoking an animal of some kind by the river at the campground and running the shuttle. There will be no canoeing. This means that people can arrive any time, day or night, but we need some interns to help Jim Myers with the smoker during the day. Applicants must be willing to sit on their asses all day drinking, fishing, occasionally lifting the lid and commenting about how good it smells, and adding a piece of hickory when Jim's voice moves you.
Pete Feldman is cooking the fucking dinner on the river the second night. Here's his report, verbatim:
Presuming I can find an adequate fish monger in the Music City the morning of April 10th, our dinner menu the following day could be as follows:
An appetizer will be served to the river men at sunset of Tuna or Red Snapper crudo, wetted with ginger vinegarette and good Guinea oil, then plated with small cubes of avocado, blood orange, baby basil leaves, slivers of jalapeno and barely dusted with sea salt.
An hour or 4 later, the main course will be served with good red wine: a 18.5 pound whole beef ribeye roast, rotisseried by water, man or kitchendog...
...accompanied simply, but elegantly, with either turnip greens, spinach, rapini, string beans or what have you that is most fresh; said vegetable shall be stir-fried in the style of the Celestial. A Yorkshire pudding will serve as the starch. Dessert shall be a good hunk of blue veined cheese, port and perhaps a berry cobbler.
Rob: we either need the battery powered rotisserie or you better let Floyd ride in the canoe on Saturday.
Tim: you picked a bad time to become a vegetarian.