Someone told me about a website that offers recipes for meals that can be made in a Sierra Club cup.
The cup, named for the famous outdoors club or environmental group, was an icon, hanging from the belts of hikers of an earlier day. Perhaps it still is.
The steel cup had a shallow bowl with a flat bottom. It had a curved wire handle you could hang from your belt.
The cup was controversial 50 years ago, when I first saw one. Critics said the steel conducted heat too well. You’d burn yourself drinking coffee. Critics also said the cups were too small to cook in and that steel was too heavy for a serious hiker to fool with.
Aficionados praised the cup’s versatility. You could cook in one, and, if you’re hiking, carrying a Sierra Club cup beats carrying a drinking cup and a cooking pot.
Even back then, aficionados shared recipes tailored for Sierra Club cups. I remember hearing a discourse on a concoction involving dried beans, oatmeal and pemmican.
Having never owned a Sierra Club cup, I have no part in the argument.
I like the cup but could do without the icon.
What struck me 50 years ago still strikes me now: How people — perhaps Americans, especially — can turn the experience of the outdoors into something that involves products, consumer ratings, status. It seems far afield for those who love to go far afield.
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