Last weekend, I had the pleasure of sitting back and watching seven men cook dinner.

It was an absolutely amazing display of differing opinions working into a dinner of perfect harmony and contentment.

Brad and I were on our annual antelope-hunting trip in the hills of Wyoming about 50 miles east of Gillette.

We had a portent of doom when I started the truck Monday morning and locked it as I exited. The spare keys happened to be in the locked truck. We finally got it unlocked and hit the open road.

Three-and-a-half hours later, we reached Kimball and I realized I had left my wallet, with my antelope permits, in the car back home. Brad made a quick call and we turned around and drove back toward McCook. We met up with our “adopted” son in Sutherland, grabbed the wallet and headed back toward Wyoming.

In all reality, things only got better from there.

George, our host, had tried to set it up so it would be his weekend off from guiding other hunters; however one group of hunters, who had been using his guide service for years, had to change their plans. There were a total of eight hunters, and of course our guide and host, George.

We had spent all day Friday hunting and filled five of our permits. Saturday morning, we filled three more permits and then headed for Gillette.

We made it back to George’s house at about 3 p.m., Saturday and decided to try our luck in filling our last permit.

By five o’clock, I was tired of being jostled around in the pickup and told the guys it was time to head back for the house.

When we got back, the house was filled with the essence of fried potatoes. Two of the men were standing over the frying pan, discussing the merits of seasoning the potatoes.

Two others were in a heated discussion over the best time to season the meat.

“If you season the meat while it’s raw, it holds the pores open and lets all the juices out,” the younger of the two argued.

“If you season after its been cooking for a while, the seasoning will just fall off the meat,” the older one said.

While they discussed the best way to grill that part of the evening’s meal, another one was checking out the lamb roast for doneness. “This seems a little tough, George, shall I turn it up?” George agreed.

While the cooks bantered back and forth, I was in the middle of making a simple lettuce salad, with cucumbers, tomatoes, and green onions.

I nearly cut myself as I listened to all the conversation around me, thinking of how my two sisters and I had almost come to blows over the best way to make potato salad.

The two “grillers” finally came to an agreement. They would each season an equal amount of meat their way, and take a vote on whose deer turned out the best.

The two working on the potatoes agreed it was time to add the onions and by the time the grilled deer was done, the lamb was roasted to perfection.

The table was groaning by the time the two vegetables and my meager salad were added to the rest of the feast.

I’m sure the conversation was a little tamer than it would have been if I hadn’t been present, but overall I was treated like one of the guys.

We discussed our kills of the weekend and the best gun for shooting various types of large game. We talked about the best game meat we’d ever eaten and discussed the best way to cook it.

It had to have been one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten. And yes, the good company and the fact that there were seven men cooking it played a role in my enjoyment.

Our weekend of certain doom had turned into a perfect hunting trip. Brad filled his last permit Sunday morning before we left and the trip home was uneventful.

There’s one thing for certain �" the old adage that “too many cooks spoil the stew” was certainly disproved last weekend, at least when it’s seven men making the stew.