Our second Rivian Camp. Campfire Paella.

[Snowdog]

Test #2. Working our way into the adventures of camping in the Rivian. Sorry to make this an instagram post what I made for dinner but M…. A campfire paella makes it semi ok. I think. Maybe. It’s a technique. Surely.

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[iansriv]

Brilliant! One of my most favourite dishes!

 

[Donald Stanfield]

That looks great.

 

[Ingo B]

Everything tastes 10x better cooked over a campfire.

 

[Jacopa]

I bet the bears will enjoy that too!

 

[Robin]

Test #2. Working our way into the adventures of camping in the Rivian. Sorry to make this an instagram post what I made for dinner but M…. A campfire paella makes it semi ok. I think. Maybe. It’s a technique. Surely.

And I wasn’t invited 🫤

 

[ndmiller]

Thank you for one a the few quality posts in a while here......Looks yummy!

 

[Laserboy1054]

Test #2. Working our way into the adventures of camping in the Rivian. Sorry to make this an instagram post what I made for dinner but M…. A campfire paella makes it semi ok. I think. Maybe. It’s a technique. Surely.

Magnificent!
Did you bring enough to share with the rest of the class?

 

[Snowdog]

Yes.
To:

• it’s a fun dish
• You are invited
• I always make enough for the whole class ( in fact I hate to admit this but this is my ‘small’ paella pan)
• Bears have a sophisticated palate I’m sure
• Yummy( just had seconds for lunch).

In the Custer SD area in mid June if you’re close enough that the flavors reach you stop by the campfire.

 

[mkg3]

Yes.
To:

• it’s a fun dish
• You are invited
• I always make enough for the whole class ( in fact I hate to admit this but this is my ‘small’ paella pan)
• Bears have a sophisticated palate I’m sure
• Yummy( just had seconds for lunch).

In the Custer SD area in mid June if you’re close enough that the flavors reach you stop by the campfire.

Is that wings used? Not thighs and no peas?? Looks like parsley on top.

I love paella also and do make it time on the bbq grill. I don't have an open fire pit at home and if I did, I would probably build a trip-pod to hang the pan over the fire...

 

[iansriv]

Yes.
To:

• it’s a fun dish
• You are invited
• I always make enough for the whole class ( in fact I hate to admit this but this is my ‘small’ paella pan)
• Bears have a sophisticated palate I’m sure
• Yummy( just had seconds for lunch).

In the Custer SD area in mid June if you’re close enough that the flavors reach you stop by the campfire.

You need to post the recipe and the items (pan etc) used. Thanks.

 

[Snowdog]

# Campfire Paella: "Probably Not Approved by Valencia" Edition 🛻

A recipe... ok. Sure. Let me just say up front....this paella would get me kicked out of Spain. I meant to follow some kind of tradition. I meant to bring the green beans. But somewhere between packing the Rivian, grabbing the firewood, and corralling the dog, the green beans got left on the kitchen counter.

So yeah—this isn’t a textbook paella. But it is a dang good campfire feast, cooked over open flame in a 17-inch Lodge cast iron double handed skillet, and it can/did feed/fed about 6–8 hungry humans with no complaints (and a few second helpings, and I may have finished of the last of it for breakfast this morning). Here’s how I winged it—literally and figuratively.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

## Step 1 – Fry the Wings

- Heated about ¼ inch of oil in the pan to get it shimmering.
- Dumped in all four vacuum-packed portions from the Sam’s Club wing mega-pack.
- Hit them with:
- Fresh cracked pepper
- Sea salt
fried a few minutes or so then...
- About 1-2 oz of Melissa's Black Truffle Hot Sauce (for that bougie campfire kick)
- 2 tsp garlic
- 2 tsp paprika

Fried 'em till they had charcoal crisp here and there, good color and attitude, then pulled and set them aside.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

## Step 2 – The Rice That May Raise Eyebrows (Now With a Soffrito Save and a Tomato Tragedy)

Alright...I almost did it right. Before the rice went in, I actually remembered to build a proper-ish soffrito, because somewhere deep down I wanted this to *feel* authentic.

- Tossed in a diced yellow onion and a 1/2 dozen chopped bell peppers (mini, red and orange, I think—whatever looked least judgmental in the cooler).
- Let them sweat it out in the leftover wing fat, stirring occasionally until they softened up and started to caramelize.

Now this is the part where I should tell you I added tomatoes.
But I didn’t. Why? Because in all the excitement of the campfire, the chicken wings, and my personal taste-testing of the Martha’s Vineyard Chardonnay, I straight-up forgot.

The tomatoes? Still in the bag when we unpacked at home. Never even saw the pan.
So errantly, I went rogue.

Then came the rice. I had no Bomba, no Calasparra...so I went full wild card with glutinous sticky rice from the local market. I usually fill the bottom of the pan about 1/4 to 1/3 inch deep or so.

- Stirred it right into the onion/pepper mix and let it toast, not a light toasting, either. We're talking golden and flirting with trouble.
- Once it was on the edge, I grabbed that same mysterious bottle of Chardonnay, took a couple generous swigs (gotta keep morale up), and poured the rest of it into the pan. Yeah pretty much the whole bottle of Chard. It's better that way.

That sticky rice? It drank that wine like it was last call in Napa.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

## Step 3 – The Saffron That Wasn’t (aka: Marriage-Saving Turmeric)

Now, any proper and well-funded Spaniard would have, at this point, summoned angel-winged couriers to deliver fresh La Mancha saffron, gently placing the golden threads into the pan like sacred artifacts. (in truth if you do you use saffron whether from Texas or Kashmir and I certainly believe you should, pop it in a small glass of water first then add the whole thing to the rice mixture)

But alas, I live in the real world of Trader Joe's saffron—and more importantly, I married a wonderful woman who has a genetic aversion to saffron. Like cilantro haters, it hits her like licking a rusty spoon. Totally ruins the dish for her.

So instead:
- I stirred in a few teaspoons of turmeric for that golden glow.
- Then hit it with a generous helping of sweet Spanish paprika (a flavor we can both get behind, and frankly, makes the campfire smell like heaven).

With the rice toasted, the wine absorbed, and the color looking vaguely traditional, it was time to get serious:

- Poured in about 1 quart of chicken broth, with the care of someone not trying to wake the very discerning grizzly napping nearby.
- Gave it a gentle stir to distribute everything, then let it cook down and do its thing while we cracked beers and let the fire dance.

At this point, the pan was alive—bubbling, fragrant, and somehow managing to look like a real paella, despite having no tomatoes, sticky rice, zero saffron, and the unmistakable energy of a late-night Iron Chef challenge.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

## Step 4 – The Socarrat Summit (aka: Paella’s Final Boss)

Once the broth was in and the rice had started to calm its bubbling chaos, it was time to commit.

- Pulled some logs off the fire and let the pan sit over a bed of glowing coals, chasing that perfect slow simmer.
- Added about 1 pound of andouille sausage, sliced and sassy.
- Threw in 2 pounds of mondo jumbo shrimp, tails on, because this was a party.
- And brought the chicken wings back home, laid them gently on top like victorious gladiators returning to the arena. There were oddly enough a few missing gladiators by this point... spoils of war et al. Chef's Tax maybe?

Now came the most difficult part:
I didn’t touch it.
No stirring. No poking. Just trust and fire. Spinning the pan around a bit is allowable. 1/4 turn here, 1/2 turn there.

This was the moment to build the socarrat, that crispy, golden rice crust at the bottom of the pan that separates the paella gods from the rest of us. I’ve sacrificed many a grain of rice to the culinary underworld learning how to hit that mark.
But this time?

*It. Was. Perfect.*

Campfire crisped. Cast iron kissed. Deep, toasty, umami-packed flavor that only comes from risk, restraint, and a bit of wine-fueled wizardry.

Finished it all off with a hailstorm of chopped parsley, admittedly more Mediterranean than Valencian, served it up family-style, and passed around the spoons, plates, and another bottle.

Local friends joined us along with Grandma. The fire was warm, the night was clear, Rush Ale was flowing, and as we all know...

‘Beer is for Geniuses ‘







Campfire Paella Ingredient List

• Olive oil (enough to coat ~¼ inch of the pan)
• Chicken wings (4 vacuum-packed portions from Sam’s Club)
• Fresh cracked black pepper (to taste)
• Sea salt (to taste)
• Melissa's Black Truffle Hot Sauce (~1–2 oz)
• Garlic (2 tsp)
• Paprika (2 tsp, plus a generous helping later — Smoked sweet Spanish variety)
• Yellow onion (1, diced)
• Mini bell peppers (~6, chopped — red and orange)
• Glutinous sticky rice (~2–3 cups dry, or enough for a shallow even layer)
• Martha’s Vineyard Chardonnay (1 bottle, minus morale sips)
• Turmeric (2–3 tsp, used in place of saffron)
• Chicken broth (~1 quart)
• Andouille sausage (1 lb, sliced)
• Jumbo shrimp (2 lbs, tails on)
• Fresh parsley (chopped, for garnish)

Bonus / Optional Ingredients

• Green beans (flat-style, traditional in Valencian paella — tragically left at home)
• Tomatoes (intended for the soffrito, also forgot them — still in the bag)
• Saffron (authentic, expensive, and gently banned in this marriage)
• Lemon wedges (for serving — adds brightness at the end)
  
  

 

[iansriv]

# Campfire Paella: "Probably Not Approved by Valencia" Edition 🛻

A recipe... ok. Sure. Let me just say up front....this paella would get me kicked out of Spain. I meant to follow some kind of tradition. I meant to bring the green beans. But somewhere between packing the Rivian, grabbing the firewood, and corralling the dog, the green beans got left on the kitchen counter.

So yeah—this isn’t a textbook paella. But it is a dang good campfire feast, cooked over open flame in a 17-inch Lodge cast iron double handed skillet, and it can/did feed/fed about 6–8 hungry humans with no complaints (and a few second helpings, and I may have finished of the last of it for breakfast this morning). Here’s how I winged it—literally and figuratively.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

## Step 1 – Fry the Wings

- Heated about ¼ inch of oil in the pan to get it shimmering.
- Dumped in all four vacuum-packed portions from the Sam’s Club wing mega-pack.
- Hit them with:
- Fresh cracked pepper
- Sea salt
fried a few minutes or so then...
- About 1-2 oz of Melissa's Black Truffle Hot Sauce (for that bougie campfire kick)
- 2 tsp garlic
- 2 tsp paprika

Fried 'em till they had charcoal crisp here and there, good color and attitude, then pulled and set them aside.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

## Step 2 – The Rice That May Raise Eyebrows (Now With a Soffrito Save and a Tomato Tragedy)

Alright...I almost did it right. Before the rice went in, I actually remembered to build a proper-ish soffrito, because somewhere deep down I wanted this to *feel* authentic.

- Tossed in a diced yellow onion and a 1/2 dozen chopped bell peppers (mini, red and orange, I think—whatever looked least judgmental in the cooler).
- Let them sweat it out in the leftover wing fat, stirring occasionally until they softened up and started to caramelize.

Now this is the part where I should tell you I added tomatoes.
But I didn’t. Why? Because in all the excitement of the campfire, the chicken wings, and my personal taste-testing of the Martha’s Vineyard Chardonnay, I straight-up forgot.

The tomatoes? Still in the bag when we unpacked at home. Never even saw the pan.
So errantly, I went rogue.

Then came the rice. I had no Bomba, no Calasparra...so I went full wild card with glutinous sticky rice from the local market. I usually fill the bottom of the pan about 1/4 to 1/3 inch deep or so.

- Stirred it right into the onion/pepper mix and let it toast, not a light toasting, either. We're talking golden and flirting with trouble.
- Once it was on the edge, I grabbed that same mysterious bottle of Chardonnay, took a couple generous swigs (gotta keep morale up), and poured the rest of it into the pan. Yeah pretty much the whole bottle of Chard. It's better that way.

That sticky rice? It drank that wine like it was last call in Napa.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

## Step 3 – The Saffron That Wasn’t (aka: Marriage-Saving Turmeric)

Now, any proper and well-funded Spaniard would have, at this point, summoned angel-winged couriers to deliver fresh La Mancha saffron, gently placing the golden threads into the pan like sacred artifacts. (in truth if you do you use saffron whether from Texas or Kashmir and I certainly believe you should, pop it in a small glass of water first then add the whole thing to the rice mixture)

But alas, I live in the real world of Trader Joe's saffron—and more importantly, I married a wonderful woman who has a genetic aversion to saffron. Like cilantro haters, it hits her like licking a rusty spoon. Totally ruins the dish for her.

So instead:
- I stirred in a few teaspoons of turmeric for that golden glow.
- Then hit it with a generous helping of sweet Spanish paprika (a flavor we can both get behind, and frankly, makes the campfire smell like heaven).

With the rice toasted, the wine absorbed, and the color looking vaguely traditional, it was time to get serious:

- Poured in about 1 quart of chicken broth, with the care of someone not trying to wake the very discerning grizzly napping nearby.
- Gave it a gentle stir to distribute everything, then let it cook down and do its thing while we cracked beers and let the fire dance.

At this point, the pan was alive—bubbling, fragrant, and somehow managing to look like a real paella, despite having no tomatoes, sticky rice, zero saffron, and the unmistakable energy of a late-night Iron Chef challenge.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

## Step 4 – The Socarrat Summit (aka: Paella’s Final Boss)

Once the broth was in and the rice had started to calm its bubbling chaos, it was time to commit.

- Pulled some logs off the fire and let the pan sit over a bed of glowing coals, chasing that perfect slow simmer.
- Added about 1 pound of andouille sausage, sliced and sassy.
- Threw in 2 pounds of mondo jumbo shrimp, tails on, because this was a party.
- And brought the chicken wings back home, laid them gently on top like victorious gladiators returning to the arena. There were oddly enough a few missing gladiators by this point... spoils of war et al. Chef's Tax maybe?

Now came the most difficult part:
I didn’t touch it.
No stirring. No poking. Just trust and fire. Spinning the pan around a bit is allowable. 1/4 turn here, 1/2 turn there.

This was the moment to build the socarrat, that crispy, golden rice crust at the bottom of the pan that separates the paella gods from the rest of us. I’ve sacrificed many a grain of rice to the culinary underworld learning how to hit that mark.
But this time?

*It. Was. Perfect.*

Campfire crisped. Cast iron kissed. Deep, toasty, umami-packed flavor that only comes from risk, restraint, and a bit of wine-fueled wizardry.

Finished it all off with a hailstorm of chopped parsley, admittedly more Mediterranean than Valencian, served it up family-style, and passed around the spoons, plates, and another bottle.

Local friends joined us along with Grandma. The fire was warm, the night was clear, Rush Ale was flowing, and as we all know...

‘Beer is for Geniuses ‘







Campfire Paella Ingredient List

• Olive oil (enough to coat ~¼ inch of the pan)
• Chicken wings (4 vacuum-packed portions from Sam’s Club)
• Fresh cracked black pepper (to taste)
• Sea salt (to taste)
• Melissa's Black Truffle Hot Sauce (~1–2 oz)
• Garlic (2 tsp)
• Paprika (2 tsp, plus a generous helping later — Smoked sweet Spanish variety)
• Yellow onion (1, diced)
• Mini bell peppers (~6, chopped — red and orange)
• Glutinous sticky rice (~2–3 cups dry, or enough for a shallow even layer)
• Martha’s Vineyard Chardonnay (1 bottle, minus morale sips)
• Turmeric (2–3 tsp, used in place of saffron)
• Chicken broth (~1 quart)
• Andouille sausage (1 lb, sliced)
• Jumbo shrimp (2 lbs, tails on)
• Fresh parsley (chopped, for garnish)

Bonus / Optional Ingredients

• Green beans (flat-style, traditional in Valencian paella — tragically left at home)
• Tomatoes (intended for the soffrito, also forgot them — still in the bag)
• Saffron (authentic, expensive, and gently banned in this marriage)
• Lemon wedges (for serving — adds brightness at the end)

Absolutely love it! I cant cook but I can eat. I value the dish on how much everyone loves it and it looks like this was a winner. Perhaps you should start a "what did you cook when camping with your Rivian" thread. Thanks for sharing!

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