This was shared by David Pack from the LDS-BSA relationships office at a Little Philmont training last Saturday. I wish I could have recorded it word-for-word because it was so good. But I can't, so you get my re-telling of it.
There is one cuisine that you'll only find at a Scout camp. You're probably all familiar with it. Blackened Scrambled Pancakes.
Every troop has a boy that always complains about being cold and hungry. You probably have a picture of him in your mind right now.
At camp, this boy who is always cold and hungry, gets up in the morning and, you guessed it, is cold and hungry. Since cold trumps hungry, the first thing he does is build a fire. And you know boys, it can't be a small fire. If it's small, he is disappointed. So he builds a big fire. Then hungry takes over.
He goes over to the patrol box and grabs a frying pan. He runs back to the fire and puts that frying pan right in the middle of the hottest part of the fire. He goes back to the patrol box, grabs the box of Krusteaz and dumps some in a bowl. He adds a bit of water until he thinks it looks good and starts to stir. He gets it mostly mixed up; there are a few clumps of powdery mix still left, but he's hungry and doesn't want to take a lot of time on this.
He goes back to the fire and, without thinking that the frying pan might need a little oil, he dumps a glob of his pancake mix right into the pan. Of course, the pan has been sitting for several minutes in the hottest part of the fire. It doesn't take long for the boy to realize his pancake is burning. He runs back to the patrol box to grab a spatula, then back to the fire. Since he didn't think to use any oil, the pancake is stuck. He does his best to scrape the burning mass of pancake off the bottom of the pan and flops it over onto the other side.
Since the pan is still really, really hot the pancake starts to burn again. He runs back to the patrol box to grab a plate, then back to the fire to get the pancake. He does his best to scrape what's left of his pancake onto the plate then, as his patrol mates watch dumbfounded, he begins to pour syrup all over it.
He takes one bite and says, "Mmm. Just like Mom makes."
The moral of the story: When the boys cook it, they like it.