When me and my brother lived in the Prins Clausplein tower where we grew up we didn'thave a nice place to play inside.

Mainly because everywhere were vases and other fragile objects that were valuable to my mother. Often we went outside to act like we were grown ups (we were 12). We loved it and we thought that grown ups would make fire for some reason, so we did. It was a lot of fun, but we wanted more. We wanted to feast of our little fire adventure fire project.

Next time we brought our mothers cast iron pan with some utensils and even some salt. We placed the pan on the fire to grill some beef strips we prepared in secret in the small kitchen in our apartment. A little oil, just like our mother always did when she cooked, and then in with the meat. After a few minutes and nervous flipping it was done. We took it out and decided it in two with a stick and our hand because we found it too scary to steal a knife from our house. I remember that it was a perfect medium rare, I don't know how we pulled that off but it was incredible. It probably was the best bite of meat I ever had in my life. That was because WE made it.