From the angler’s perspective they’re a nuisance. A summertime constant whose dimutitive size requires small hooks, smaller tippets, great patience, and much frustration.

From the watershed perspective they are the “bologna & white bread” of my chemically-enhanced lukewarm tomato effluent, whose great numbers and summer-long hatches ensure everything has something to feed on in between the sexier bugs and tastier fare of Spring or Fall.

Small enough to provide fodder for the smallest of fry, yet exists in such dense numbers as to ensure the residents of the marginal lie and shallow water get fed.

Dense enough in flight to lure every barn swallow and songbird from the safety of the bridge abutment, to provide a protein reward for the careening birds and their morning dogfight.

Each summer it becomes clear to me what an enormous contribution this tiny insect makes to our watersheds, both the tepid and pristine. Among the longest-lived of all the mayflies, the miniscule Trico provides nourishment to most of the watershed, not simply the fish, which we miss because we’re fixated on their presence and the fishing, never understanding how big they really are …

… just ask the spiders.

Outside of rods, scraped knuckles, and leaky waders, very little shares our outdoor tradition more than beef jerky. As kids we were schooled by trashy Westerns where both hero or villain gnawed on plugs of tobacco or dried jerky with equal gusto. Later, we read about the early explorers and their propensity for crisscrossing the Continent with little more than dried Buffalo hump and a palmful of branch water.

As anglers we relearned those same lessons about jerked beef; how easily it survived a couple of seasons in our vest, and how it made the many miles between you and the parking lot less so … not to mention how it lightened your wallet when restocked via streamside Bachelor Store …

… and in our dotage when the doctor insisted we cut out salt, we nodded vigorously and slowed our intake of pretzels, ignoring his prohibition regarding our most sacred streamside meal.

So you tie your own flies, wrap your own rods, and hike many miles from the parking to find the last vestiges of wilderness, yet for a streamside pick-me-up you’re going to settle for a salt-infused poodle turd in a festive wrapper?

Aged for 48 hours in a sweet and hot garlic mixture

… instead take a nice London Broil with as little fat as possible, cut it in 1/4” strips, on the bias (45°) to make the resultant flesh less firm, then age it for 48-72 hours in your favorite mixture of exotics:

Sweet & Spice Hot

Add half a jar of Thai Sweet Chili Sauce to a cup of extra finely diced garlic. Add a quarter cup of soy sauce to provide a hint of salt, and depending on your taste, add napalm in the form of Chinese Black Bean Hot Sauce (at least four tablespoons), or add more sweet with a quarter cup of Pure Maple Syrup.

A high quality dehydrator requires about four to five hours to dry jerky (depending on thickness of your cuts) with a setting of 155° Fahrenheit. About two hours in to the process, use what’s left in the jars to make a second batch of sauce and paint that on the partially-dried strips as a second coat.

Halfway through the drying process, second coat has just been applied

The first coat seals the meat but largely evaporates, the second coat will give the dried meat a fetching glaze and add most of its finished flavor. You can apply more coats depending on your preferences, but three coats or more will cause the finished product to be sticky to the touch – and will need to be segregated into its own bag.

There will be a long line of fishing pals insisting you bring both enough flies and enough jerky to supply them in the manner to which they will quickly become accustomed, but that doesn’t mean you can have a bit of fun at their expense ..

The mixture of sweet and pure heat the above recipe produces is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The Thai sauce is a heady mix of sweet garlic, spices, and wonderful flavor – which will make them reach for a double handful for their next swallow.

If you plan the mix right, the napalm effect starts after the sweet component leaves the palate and builds exponentially with each additional bite. As soon as they realize their predicament it’ll be too late and them gluttonous pals of yours will be attempting to soak their head in the creek.

He’s a bit tentative knowing it could be napalm-infused.

… which won’t help a bit, given the hot black bean sauce is oil-based hot, and not terribly water soluble.

The sweet gives you a quick sugar infusion and adds a bit of energy for the hike out with a nice spicy finish to clear the mind and cut the trail dust.