'Tough as nails and kind of crazy'

At the mining camp in Tok, the kitchen is a wall tent, the pantry is a Conex trailer and the menu is studded with sandwich meats, Wonder Bread and hearty comfort-food favorites. On the Tsiu River, outside Yakutat, the chef works out of a luxury fishing lodge serving vacationers from around the world.

While the two locations are drastically different —a bustling Interior Alaska mining camp and a high-end retreat near the base of the Alaska Panhandle—Kristin Jones has worked in both places. Both jobs follow the same routine: Cook. Serve. Restock. Repeat.

But these aren't your stereotypical Hollywood chuck wagons, and no two kitchens are the same.

In Alaska, camp cooking is a piquant blend of frontier spirit, foodie culture, colorful characters and local flavor. It's an essential ingredient for businesses around the state, from oil and gas operations to fisheries, construction projects and tourist attractions.

For Jones, an Anchorage-raised graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, the job is a chance to exercise culinary freedom for an especially appreciative audience. Between stints in Tok and on the Tsiu, she's served food for miners, scientists, families, sportsmen and guides. With food, she aims to make everyone feel at home, even in places far away from the real thing. It takes some practice.

"You've got to read your audience," she said one afternoon, a few months out from her next season on the river. "I want [meals] to be the bright part of their day."

Feeding dozens of people in the Alaska wilderness is unlike any restaurant job around. Look at the schedule. Camp cook gigs follow the work, whether that's a May-October hitch at an Interior mine or a winter turn at a fish plant in the Aleutians. At the Tsiu Lodge, Jones cooks from August through October.

It's like a marathon: She prepares for those months throughout the year, jotting down recipe ideas and grocery list additions. There's a big shopping trip before the season begins. Afterward, food is flown in daily, Jones said. Frozen meats and shelf-stable goods are stored at a company hangar in Cordova, while produce and other perishables are purchased fresh as needed.

Miles from any town, Jones makes things like pistachio pesto with balsamic lamb skewers and Israeli couscous; beer biscuits with scallions and cheddar cheese; hearty-yet-light Sicilian soup stuffed with bratwurst, red potato and kale; carnitas assembled from bacon-cumin beans, citrus-glazed pork butt, Cuban slaw and handmade tortillas; almond-crusted desserts, plump with fresh fruit.

At the Tsiu camp, days filled with fishing begin with an opulent breakfast spread. Jones prepares all the staples: eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes with fresh blueberries. There's oatmeal, fruit (dried and fresh), nuts, berries, house-made granola and a little something extra; maybe quiche or biscuits and gravy. Lunch could be soup and pasties, or fresh salmon, lemon and creamy beurre blanc by a fire down at the shore. Dinner is an all-out affair.

Lodge life revolves around the luxury of the Alaska wilderness.

To Jones, "the food is just sparkle on the whole thing."

On the Tsiu, she cooks for approximately 35 people a day, serving hundreds of individually plated meals a week. In Tok, that number nearly doubles. The priorities change, too.

"You have to feed 75 people by 6 o'clock, no matter what. And if you don't get that food out to them at certain times, then the drillers who work the night shift don't get to eat," Jones recalled. "And it's crazy. You can't have mutiny."

Mining camps are hard, gritty places where companies spend millions of dollars and miners put in long hours of tough physical labor. The meals keep everything running. But not everyone wants the same thing. There are the drillers who take sandwiches with extra helpings of meat and cheese, and the geologists who request vegan selections and special salads. A mining camp cook's days begin before 4 a.m. Breakfast is laid out by 6. Then comes the second part of the job: Keeping the coffee pots hot and ready to refill empty thermoses for tired workers.

The big tent where it all takes place is part kitchen, part convenience store. At lunch, the mining camp workers have access to endless varieties of soft drinks and sports beverages, bags of chips and candy bars and other snacks. In years past, the store inside the tent was completely depleted twice a day, Jones said. The camp goes through approximately 5,000 pounds of food per week. The numbers make her laugh.

"The sheer amount of food that comes in is just hilarious," she said.

It's like that in most camp kitchens. To cook out here, you have to be strong enough to wrangle all the supplies that come your way. You have to be strong in other ways, too, Jones said. You'll work long stretches in relatively isolated places. You'll meet cantankerous old roustabouts who like their breakfast eggs just so. If you're a woman, you might be one of the only ones in camp.

But that's all part of the job, Jones said. It's challenging and satisfying and exhausting and exhilarating.

"Being a chef—and especially being a female—you have to be, like, tough as nails, and kind of crazy."

RECIPES FROM THE CAMP KITCHEN

KJ's Kickin' Dr. Pepper BBQ Sauce
Courtesy of Chef Kristin Jones

1 2-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper
1 bottle ketchup
1 cup honey
1/2 cup dark molasses
2 cups minced garlic (food processor is fine)
2 medium sweet onions, small dice (food processor is fine)
1/4 cup Sriracha
salt and pepper to taste

Par cook ribs in Dr. Pepper, use the resulting liquid (after removing ribs) as the sauce base. Do NOT strain! Pork deliciousness is key!

Pour sauce base into stockpot and set on medium heat, reduce by half, then add remaining ingredients.

Once it starts to bubble, turn heat down to LOW and let simmer for an hour or more.

Use immersion blender or pour small batches (two cups at a time) into regular blender to finish sauce.

Mac 'N' Cheesy
Courtesy of Chef Kristin Jones

1 pound cooked pasta
1 quart heavy cream
1 pound white Tillamook cheddar, shredded
1 pound Gruyere, shredded
1 pound Velveeta,* cubed (don't laugh, this is an important ingredient)
salt and pepper to taste

Prepare pasta, toss in oil to prevent drying and clumping, set aside.

Pour heavy cream into a pot at medium heat. Add cheddar and Gruyere, stir constantly. When incorporated, add Velveeta* in batches, stirring constantly. Once all cheese is incorporated, it should be quite thick. Salt and pepper to taste.

Toss pasta in sauce and pour into serving dish. You may keep it warm in a 200-degree oven with a foil cover over the dish.

This is NOT intended to be a "baked" pasta dish. I like to top it with crispy fried pancetta and scallion-garlic oil breadcrumbs or French friend onions or scallions.

This story first appeared in the June 2016 Adventure Issue of 61°North. Contact the editor, Jamie Gonzales, at jgonzales@alaskadispatch.com.