I'M IN CHARGE OF THE MENU

This weekend is our annual guys' campout. Also known as Bill's third annual bachelor party. It's a two-nighter full of poker, paintball, fishing, beer and, of course, lots of food high in sodium and saturated fat. I'm in charge of the menu and buying the food (everyone will chip in when we get there to cover the tab).

I have to be in charge of the food. Bill suggested asking everyone to "bring something," but then you wind up with four cans of baked beans, a pack of cheese dogs and a bag of Ruffles. And that would be bad. Granted, it's not the quality of the food I'm worried about (there's still beans, cheese dogs and Ruffles on the menu), it's the quantity. I can't run out of food on a campout. I have to have something to skewer on a stick and roast over the fire between hands of Hold 'Em. Or when I get back from not catching any trout. Or after a hike. If I run out of food, suddenly the woods feel like, well, woods. And what would be the fun in that?