Sophie couldn’t sleep. The jet lag had reared its ugly inevitable head. All that sleep on the plane had thrown her body out of whack and now she was lying wide awake in the quiet of the forest, pondering her life choices. Except it wasn’t totally quiet. She heard frogs, owls, and other things skittering around in the dark.

Realizing that she wasn’t going to get any more sleep, she decided to get up and investigate her new kitchen. She had worked with top of the line equipment in England, but she wasn’t scared off by this rough and tumble challenge. She was like an Old West pioneer, making do with what she had.

Flipping on the kitchen lights, she wandered around opening drawers and cupboards, finding all the usual suspects. She checked the burners on the stove, all in working order. She came across a clipboard hanging with a meal menu from the previous cook.

Yuck, it all looked like canned or packaged meals. Obviously fresh wasn’t in the previous cook’s repertoire. She also discovered a key behind the clipboard that had a tag that said Storage on it. Looking out the window, she could see a trailer like you’d see behind a lorry sitting behind the building.

Grabbing a flashlight by the door, she headed out to investigate what she was now going to affectionately call her refrigerator. Fitting the key into the lock, she pulled open the door and saw a power cord hanging down the side of the container. She ran her hand along it until she found a toggle and flicked it. Three rows of lights flicked on exposing shelf after shelf of food. Some of it didn’t need to be refrigerated, but was clearly here as part of the storage.

The rest was a bounty of fresh food. Vegetables lined up in wood bins, meat in huge slabs bundled together. There was a wall of dairy products and near the back an entire rack devoted to fruit. Every berry you could imagine, local and clearly picked recently. There were a few exotic fruits, papayas and some mangos, but mostly it was huckleberries, and red currants and the like. There were also chest freezers full of more perishable items like ice cream and frozen cakes.

The last person might have liked frozen cakes, but that was not something Sophie was comfortable with. Looking around she remembered Wyatt saying that they were going to put out cereal for the staff in the morning. Breakfast was still a few hours away; she had time to at least whip them up something hot to keep them going for the day.

Grabbing an armful of supplies, and knowing she was going to be making a few trips, she left the light on and headed into the kitchen.

Sophie had to put on her serious planning cap to figure out how to make up enough food for fifty men. She got some venison sausages going in the oven. She whipped up pancake batter in the industrial mixer. Once that was setting to rest, she put together three different berries, including some frozen blackberries she found into a big pot. She added sugar, vanilla, and honey and put it on a slow simmer.

She decided to whip up a little honey butter too, to go with the pancakes and berry compote. She noticed there were huge gallon jars of honey stashed not only in the fridge, but the kitchen as well. She discovered them when she was taking inventory. Someone must really like honey.

Luckily in her planning and research for being a logging company cook, she had come across a popular American cook that lived on a ranch in a state called Oklahoma. Sophie figured feeding cowboys had to be the same as feeding lumberjacks. She wasn’t trained in traditional American meat and potato meals at Le Cordon Bleu, so she hoped her cowboy recipes worked out.

Hearing some sounds start up outside, doors opening and closing, she figured it was around time for the men to be getting up. Glancing at the clock she saw it was quarter to six. Good to know how early she was going to be starting around here.

Turning on the flat top griddle, she got to work making her pancakes. For her first real attempt she thought they turned out pretty good, they looked like the picture in the cookbook at least. She tossed them into a steamer tray as they were done. She figured she could put out the first batch and keep making them as long as they were needed.

Walking out to the hall, she set out the pancakes and sausages. She’d transferred the now thick and sticky compote into another tray. The door to the mess flew open and a large burly man with a long beard down to his chest stepped in.

Looking around, he boomed out, “Are you an angel from heaven? What is that I smell? Smells like my momma’s kitchen when I was a boy!”

Smiling sheepishly, Sophie blushed and introduced herself, “I’m Sophie, the new cook.”

“Amos, nice to meet ya young lady. I was coming in to get the cereal out before the savages start howling their stomachs are rubbing against their spines,” he chortled. “I also grab one or two of the guys on limited work duty from injuries to help me make up sandwiches for the men’s lunch boxes. They come in and grab what they want, no need to fuss with them. They usually take chips and cookies and go.”

“Well I couldn’t sleep, the jet lag had me knackered, so I figured might as well try to get something warm into the men before they head off to work. Can you think of anything I missed?” she asked looking around at the steam trays.

“Coffee,” he boomed. “Men won’t do anything until they’ve had their coffee.”

Looking a little lost, Sophie spun around. “I didn’t even think of that! I don’t drink coffee, I’m English, we drink tea. You don’t think they’d want tea do you?” she said in a panic.

“Settle down there missy, I’ll get the coffee brewing. You go grab those big jugs of milk and orange juice from the cooler. That will keep ‘em happy for now,” he assured her.

Running back outside she found the milk and orange juice, brought them out to a table and found some buckets to fill with ice to keep them chilled.

Sophie really hoped this first breakfast wasn’t a disaster. She would hate to crawl home so soon.