Fourteen summers camping. And every evening at six o’clock that same question.
Ellen, 51. Our regular spot in the Ardennes, for nine years now - the same one. Two kids half-raised in that awning. I love camping. Sitting outside until it’s dark, kids coming home dirty and not minding at all.
But around six o’clock I was always in that little kitchen. Two gas burners too close together, a cooler with barely anything left in it. And then that question came.
What are we eating tonight?
Pasta. Again.
“Every evening, that question again. At the campsite it’s even worse, because you’ve got two burners and a cooler.”
I thought that was just part of it. Until one morning in France.
The neighbor walked by with a basket of fresh rolls
She came back from the bakery on site. We had rusks from a packet, and yesterday’s leftover bread that had already gone tough.
Small moment. But it stuck with me. Because it’s not just bread. It’s the difference between getting by and actually having a vacation.
From that summer on, I started trying.
I’ve tried all sorts of things. It was all in that cupboard.
An aluminum pan on the gas burner. Clever idea, but it takes up your only free burner and it doesn’t brown.
A little oven from the camping shop. Black on top, not cooked through inside. The rolls came out pale.
So I thought: I’ll just bring the air fryer from home. At least that one actually cooks.
That wasn’t a good idea.
Ten minutes later, half the row was without power
Air fryer on, the kettle was still on too, and it got dark. Not just for us: four pitches were on one circuit.
So you end up walking to reception at dusk. And everyone knows who it was.
That vacation I didn’t turn it on once. On vacation you have to compromise on food, I thought.
What nobody says out loud: cooking isn’t a vacation
Three weeks away is twenty-one dinners. And it always lands on the same person. In our case, me.
While everyone is sitting outside, you’re standing in the heat pushing two pans against each other. And then the dishes too, in a tub, with water you had to go fetch.
“Cooking for 5 on 2 burners in the heat… We’ve since had the luxury of our own cabin. But not everyone gets that.”
Then someone in a camping group mentioned an oven I’d never heard of
That first evening it looked a bit too good to be true sitting there. Not a brand from the camping store. I ordered it with low expectations: the Safecourt Power Oven.
What’s different about it, in plain language: it’s made to run on a campsite hookup. It draws less power than the post gives you, so nothing trips out.
And it’s not a toy oven. A whole two-kilo chicken fits in it, or two levels of rolls at once. There’s no non-stick coating inside, just steel and glass.
At eight o’clock there was a basket of rolls on our table
Ten minutes, that was all it took. The kids came out of the tent on their own and the neighbor came to ask where that smell was coming from.
That was my basket.
I’m no longer standing in that little kitchen at six o’clock with that question. I put something in the oven and I sit down.
What I’d want to know before I bought it
I’m not a salesperson, so here’s the less fun part too.
It needs to vent its heat
30 by 30.5 by 32 centimeters, five kilos. On the road it goes in the cupboard, but during use keep ten centimeters clear. So on the table or the counter, not in a cupboard.
How much fits inside
Twelve liters, so a whole two-kilo chicken, or two levels of rolls at once. For two people, everything goes on the table in one go. With five of you, you cook in two rounds: first the chicken, then the oven fries go in while the meat rests. No one with us has ever had to wait.
Will it work on the hookup?
Other than that, it’s simply an oven you can take in the caravan, and the rest of the year it sits on my kitchen counter at home.
Delivered before your next trip
