Dusty mixed his first batch of Trail Dust over a sputtering campfire, somewhere up a trail he still won't name. One dented skillet, a handful of spices, and a trout that deserved better. It worked — the whole camp went quiet, and it wasn't the scenery.
He's been hand-mixing small batches ever since, with his dog Biscuit on quality control. If Biscuit sits and stares, the batch is good. Biscuit always sits and stares.
