As I've said, my boy Joe won't let an apocalypse get in his way of enjoying himself. When we do the movie, I get to be Joe. Otherwise, you can keep your contract. Enough said.
A proper cast iron pan and a campfire is really all a man needs to make breakfast, if he planned ahead and has powdered milk and eggs with some Tactical Bacon. Yeah, that stuff exists and you should be filling your basement with it.
Good cooking is all about improvisation. Use what you got with the methods that are handy. So far, I've featured spit-roasted fawn, scrounged ramen with fig newtons and warm soda, and beef jerky fried rice. Coming soon is the recipe for mouse-butt soup.
But the world is yours after a breakfast of scrambled eggs, Tac-Bac, marijuana and reggae.
In a cast-iron pan, he spreads strips of pork
And sets the pan next to the coffee pot.
One last drag. He snuffs the splif on his tongue,
Tucks it in the dashboard ashtray, exhales.
He stirs powdered milk and eggs in his bowl
With more water from the tank in his trunk
As the coffee percs, the bacon crackles
And he bounces to a plucked bass guitar.
The camels groan and snort, shake off their sleep
While nosing through the heather for breakfast.
From Cathartes Aura on the Road from Nowhere, Chapter One, Verse Five.
And you should probably bring some Eighty Six Rub. Tastes good on everything.