My mother is an amazing dutch oven cook. Apparently I did not inherit the gene. Then again I left the men to tend the ovens so I guess that was probably where I went wrong. I mixed up a delicious stew for us and some good friends of ours. I got it all set up on my coals and then it started to rain. We put a piece of plywood over the fire pit to protect it. When our friends arrived the men took over the fire while the moms and kids hung out inside. By the time they thought to check my stew there was no liquid left and a generous amount of it was stuck to the sides. Luckily the middle was still edible and along with some bread nobody starved. Then they went to retrieve the cobbler which had been baking while we ate the stew. this is what we found.
After it cooled a bit the guys just had to play with it.
They had to prove it wasn’t a complete failure by breaking it open to get at the unburnt middle. I have to admit it wasn’t that bad but there was only enough good stuff for everyone to have a bite or two. The kids especially got a kick out of chewing the insides out of their hunk of charcoal.