Rustic Climbing Dinner


1 hungry climber

Prep Time

16 seconds 

Cook Time


Our most popular recipe, by far. After a long day in the mountains, you wearily conclude your journey back to the safe haven of your 04' Tacoma. Your legs are a bit shaky, and thoroughly scratched, from the 3000' winding descent through talus fields. Your buddy, the one who didn't bring enough alpine draws, again, locks their eyes on the faint reflection of the moonlight off of the NOLS Wilderness First Responder sticker on the bumper of their Subaru Outback. Both of you are beat, but in the spirit of TFL (training for life), neither will admit that the 13 hour day of intense exertion has taken a toll on your levels of enthusiasm. When you arrive to your vehicles, both of you shed your heavy packs and take a deep breath of mountain air. The PBR that you know is just behind your tailgate, nestled near to your dirty dishes and a pile of socks, beckons you with a magnetic force. The contours of your dry, sunburned lips resemble the splitter cracks you spent all day ascending - and as the froth of your PBR forms rivulets and spills down those once-juicy lips, you truly feel the sweet sting of relief that you've made it back. A rumble in your stomach reminds you that all you've eaten today was three CLIF bars and most of a summer sausage. You look across the dusty road to where your pal is parked, and the longing look you see in their bloodshot eyes tells you that it's time to eat. You shout across the road, "Yo Big Dawg, can you get your stove going?" Concern flashes across their face, they've been in this situation before. "Nah dude, you said you were going to bring it." Damn. Both of you, righteous in your conviction that the other was supposed to bring their Coleman, grunt and grumble as if your guttural protest might change anything about the scenario you've found yourself in. You look down at the plastic box beside you to take stock of what food options you have. The beam of your headlamp focuses on your tortillas, and to your dismay, you see the distinctive blue of mold blooming. You kick yourself for not buying Mission Brand Tortillas, the twinkies of the tortilla world, capable of lasting years in tropical conditions. Your headlamp beam sweeps across your box and you realize that the only other food that you have is four cans of black beans and a bottle of Caldera. With a resigned sigh you reach down and grab a familiar aluminum can. You reach back into the bed of your truck and grab your spork out of the stained coffee mug it was resting in. Your hands, tender from a day of climbing, gingerly crack the lid of the beans. You sip the sweet, sweet, bean water and dig into your rustic climbing dinner.


- 1 can black beans
- 1 bottle Caldera Habanero Pepper Sauce


1. Crack can and douse liberally with sauce.