Power lines on the open prairie overlooking Havre, Montana.

I went to the store to get some supplies yesterday. A mundane task, but necessary nonetheless.

I have to confess; it felt like I was cheating. I got most of what I needed from the Super Walmart in Havre. It hardly feels like I’m in the old west when buying goods from a big box store that looks just like every other Walmart in the world. Instead I should be saddling up a horse and heading into Walnut Grove to see Nels Oleson about a sack of flour, some coffee beans, and a dozen eggs. That would have felt much more appropriate.

My list of supplies wasn’t very long. Eggs, butter, milk, bread, mustard, and sausage.

I also made an impulse buy and got me a new cast iron skillet. I have yet to perfect the art of frying the perfect egg and I was always told a cast iron skillet would best accomplish that goal. It would also come in handy when camping. I cooked my first eggs on it this morning. Sadly the results weren’t any better than my old frying pan. The eggs stuck to the bottom of the frying pan and broke apart as I tried to flip them. I don’t think I’m using enough butter. I will have to experiment with that more later.

I also bought a small coffee pot. I don’t much coffee, but after being invited into the house of a rancher east of Chinook I decided to give it another try.

They were an older couple; probably in their late 50s. They said had lived on a ranch all of their life and met when she went to college in Havre. She also muttered something about him coercing her into marriage. But they seemed content, if not happy, together.

More to the point, they owned land with an abundance of wildlife. A lot of land–5,000 acres. And a lot of wildlife–mule deer, elk, sage grouse, pheasants, coyotes, snowshoe rabbits, and pronghorn antelope. But I digress.

When I arrived the Mrs. asked if I wanted a cup of coffee. Impulsively I declined; something I have done every time I was ever offered coffee for many, many years. But this place seemed to suit coffee. It was an old log cabin of sorts sitting alone on the snowy Montana prairie. I could smell pork chops cooking on the stove. They were being served for breakfast. And the smell of coffee seemed to compliment everything here quite well.

“On second thought,” I said. “I’ll have that cup of coffee…if you don’t mind.”

She then asked me how I drank my coffee. Since I have never really accepted coffee before I didn’t know how to answer. Her husband’s coffee was served dark and black, so I figured when in Rome I should do as the Romans.

I drank my hot cup of dark, black coffee. The conversation turned to wildlife, my experience growing up on a dairy farm, tractors, politics, and a few other miscellaneous issues of the day. I don’t know if that was the best cup of coffee in the world, but it sure tasted like it. I really enjoyed it.

So this morning I decided to break in my new coffee pot with my new cast iron skillet and make me a cup of coffee. I used two tablespoons of coffee for every cup of water, but my first pot this morning was far too strong for my liking. Nonetheless, I gritted my teeth and drank it.

No, the coffee wasn’t perfect, but it complimented my broken cast iron eggs well. Not a perfect breakfast, but it was made right in Montana. And that seemed to make all the difference…even if the supplies came from Walmart.