As the most popular outdoor adventure guide in this small town sitting pretty at over 7,000 feet, one of my most in-demand summertime experiences here in Big Bear Lake, California, is my Jeep tours with a charcuterie picnic. Yes, food tours are trending almost as hard as putting protein into literally everyt
hing in 2026. Protein sodas? Are you kidding me, Costco? At this point, I fully expect someone to try and sneak whey protein into a glass of rosé.
Sure, you can easily find a food tour in Paris or London. But what about a sleepy little ski town like Big Bear Lake, California? What if your idea of a perfect mountain day includes dirt roads, alpine views, and a boujie picnic spread that doesn’t taste like it came out of a gas station refrigerator? Sounds like you need to book a Jeep tour with this local travel writer with a hiking problem and a charcuterie addiction.
As a foodie and food blogger, life is simply not complete without a proper gourmet lunch. And while I absolutely love living in Big Bear Lake—with all the hiking, mountain biking, and snowshoeing my outdoor heart can handle—our food scene? Let’s just say… it builds character.
How do you like your steak? Frozen and marked up to tourist prices? Or would you prefer tacos so bland they make you question every life choice that led you to that salsa bar? Because that’s kind of what we’re working with here. Suffice to say, I don’t go out to eat in this town unless I’m feeling particularly desperate.
Which is exactly why, about three years ago, I decided to start a small business that allowed me to cook part-time—without setting foot back into a restaurant kitchen. I’ve done my time. I’ve lived the “smell like garlic five days a week” life. I’ve made my peace with it.
So when I bought my dream car, my Jeep Trailhawk, a lightbulb went off. Why not monetize the ride? Why not combine my love of off-roading, wilderness exploration, and food into one slightly brilliant (if I do say so myself) experience?
I’ve been tearing up dirt roads and getting into questionable adventures throughout the San Bernardino Mountains since the late ’90s. My Bronco days may be behind me, but the spirit lives on. And if I can share that love of the outdoors with visitors—while also feeding them something that actually tastes great—well, that’s just good business.
For over a decade, I’ve led hiking tours through some of the most beautiful, lesser-known wilderness areas throughout the Big Bear Valley. But here’s the thing: not everyone wants to hike ten miles a day “on vacation” as I do. Some people—like, say, my parents—would prefer to experience nature without needing ibuprofen and a recovery day.
And honestly? I respect that.
Maybe your idea of a perfect mountain afternoon involves sitting on a picnic blanket in a meadow, nibbling on gourmet cheeses, sipping rosé, and pretending you’re in Napa instead of at elevation with slightly unpredictable weather and one very enthusiastic Adventure Dog nearby.
That’s where my charcuterie Jeep tours come in.
Nothing Says “Sustainable Lifestyle” Like Dirt Under Your Nails
This spring, for the first time ever, I finally purchased a plot at our local community garden—and honestly, it has been a full-on game changer. Yes, we have a beautiful garden at our cabin, but after years of organic gardening, our six fruit trees have completely taken over the space from June through September. Prime gardening season at over 6,000 feet… and I’m out here being shaded out by my own apples, peaches, and plums.
The first few years I lived in Big Bear, we had the most prized tomatoes in the neighborhood. Neighbors would literally stop mid dog-walk to admire our ginormous Fairytale pumpkins like it was some kind of suburban farm-to-table pilgrimage. These days, our fruit harvest is thriving, but I miss growing the fun stuff—tomatoes, cucumbers, squash… vegetables that actually belong on a charcuterie board instead of just being emotionally supportive fruit trees.
So yes, thank you, community garden, for giving my green thumb a second act here in 2026.
Having a plot just a short mountain bike ride from my house has completely leveled up my “healthy living but make it realistic” lifestyle. And while I’m usually not thrilled when the snow melts in May (because, obviously, I’d prefer one more snowshoe), this year? I’m practically itching to buy a bag of chicken manure and get my hands into that early spring soil.
Nothing says “mountain living” quite like aggressively planning your vegetable garden while still wearing a puffer jacket.
And when it comes to my pop-up picnic lunches, I try to incorporate as many homegrown, local, organic ingredients as possible. Because if I’m serving food in the middle of the wilderness, it needs to be organic and homegrown.
But here’s the problem: if I’m going to serve a proper charcuterie spread in the middle of the wilderness, I refuse—refuse—to include store-bought, stale, personality-free crackers that taste like cardboard with commitment issues.
Which brings us to the real star of the show: Homemade Pita Chips.
Not just any pita chips. Homemade Pita Chips made with sourdough, because if we’re going to be extra, we’re going to be correctly extra. This is 2026 after all and everything needs to be chock full of sourdough.
These are crispy, golden, slightly tangy, and miles better than anything you’ll find in a plastic bag at the grocery store. They hold up to soft cheeses, stand their ground against spreads, and—most importantly—don’t crumble into sad little shards the second you try to scoop something remotely delicious.
And yes, when you’re sitting in a mountain meadow after a Jeep tour, surrounded by pine trees and pretending you’re a far more relaxed version of yourself, these Homemade Pita Chips hit differently. Because food always tastes better al fresco.
Especially when you made it yourself. Especially when it pairs with cheese, wine, and a complete lack of tourists asking where the nearest Starbucks is.
So whether you’re recreating your own Big Bear charcuterie moment at home, or just looking for a way to upgrade your snack game without resorting to protein-enhanced nonsense, these Homemade Pita Chips are your answer. Because life is too short for bad crackers.
And if I’m feeding people in the wilderness, we’re doing it right.
Lower Carbon Footprint, Higher Emotional Investment
One thing no one tells you about joining a community garden is this: you are not getting a plot… you are inheriting a mint situation.
There is mint everywhere. Not a cute little sprig situation. I’m talking full-blown botanical takeover. Mint is creeping into other plots, mint is staging a quiet coup, mint is living its best invasive life while the rest of us just stand there wondering how it got this out of control. It’s like the Jimmy Kimmel of the organic garden.
And, unlike Kimmel, the funniest part? No one knows what to do with it.
Gardeners just walk past their mint like it personally offended them. They roll their eyes, give it the side-eye, and move on—very similar to how certain people react to Donald Trump on TV every night. Just… silent judgment and mild irritation.
Meanwhile, I may be the only organic gardener showing up in a “Make America Healthy Again” tank top, happily harvesting armfuls of mint like I’ve just struck green gold. Gloves on, fully committed, zero shame.
Because where they see a problem… I see an opportunity.
YOU GET MINT! YOU GET MINT! EVERYBODY GETS MINT!
I’m basically out here giving away mint chutney like I’m Oprah, but with significantly more dirt under my nails and a lot less production budget. You get mint chutney. You get mint chutney. Everybody gets mint chutney!
Mint chutney has always been one of my favorite summertime staples—bright, fresh, a little tangy, and somehow perfect as a dip, a salad dressing, or a sauce you pretend was intentional but really just ended up on everything. And this summer? I am fully leaning into it.
When 90% of the recipe is fresh mint and your garden is producing mint like i
t’s trying to win an award, you don’t ask questions—you start picking and blending. Let’s just say… I’ve become extremely popular at the community garden.
This summertime, I started adding in my fantastic Mint Mango Chutney with sourdough naan chips to every single charcuterie platter and my guests have just loved it. Especially my vegetarian guests who visit Big Bear and get tired of going out to eat just to pay twenty dollars for a salad that is literally only lettuce and Roma tomatoes. If you are a vegetarian or vegan and visiting Big Bear Lake this summer, you simply must book a Jeep Tour with a Charcuterie Picnic Lunch. Enjoy rustic homestead veggie salads such as my
- Thai Ginger Peanut Vegetable Chop (Vegan and Gluten-Free) ($18)
- Curried Veggie Lemon Cashew Quinoa Bowl (Vegan & Gluten-Free) ($18)
- Thai-Inspired Coconut Curry Kale Harvest Salad (Vegan)($15) Add goat cheese crumbles + $8 extra
What Happens When Sourdough Meets Happy Hour
And of course, if you just created Mint Chutney, you need something to dip into it besides your fingers! Did I mention this is the best happy hour snack? This dough freezes beautifully for up to two months, also.
Air Fryer Pita Chips, How Bread Becomes Party Food
These sourdough pita chips are made using naan-style flatbread for extra fl
avor and chew before baking crisp. My original naan recipe came from Half Baked Harvest and if you are interested in her recipe, you can find it here.
1/4 cup warm water
1 tablespoon of honey
1/4 cup of sourdough starter
1 cup of whole milk, warmed
1 cup full-fat Greek yoghurt, I prefer Kirkland brand, closest to Indian curd
4 cups of flour
1 1/2 teaspoons of baking powder
1 teaspoon of baking soda
1 teaspoon of salt
1/2 cup ghee, melted
Avocado oil spray or coconut oil spray
Naan Today, Chips Tomorrow, Charcuterie Forever
First, in the bowl of your stand mixer with the dough hook attached, combine the water, honey, and sourdough starter. Give it a quick mix and let it sit for about ten minutes so everything can wake up and remember why we decided to make sourdough instead of just buying bread at Whole Foods like all those bougie city people.
Next, add the milk and yogurt, then mix in the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Mix only until the dough comes together. This is not the time to overachieve. Once the dough looks combined, stop the mixer, step away, and let the dough rest for about thirty minutes. This rest period makes the dough easier to work with and gives you time to play with your Catahoula Cajun Fur Monster.
After thirty minutes, it’s time for stretch and folds.
Yes, stretch and folds.
No, I did not make this up.
You’ll want to do six sets of stretch and folds, every fifteen minutes. If you have no idea what that means, don’t worry — I didn’t either the first time. Check out the video for what the hell a stretch and fold actually is. Basically, you pull the dough up, fold it over itself, turn the bowl, and repeat until you feel like a rustic European baker instead of someone standing in their kitchen in yoga pants that have never seen a Vinyasa.
After your sixth set of stretch and folds, cover the dough well and leave it on the counter overnight in a large bowl, or for about twelve hours, to ferment. This is where the sourdough magic happens. Also, where you go to bed and hope you didn’t kill your starter. Your dough should double in size overnight, so give it room to grow.
After about twelve hours, pull the dough together into a ball and get ready for the cold ferment. The cold ferment is where the flavor really builds, so don’t skip this unless you enjoy bland bread from the Dollar Store.
Lightly coat the outside of the dough with rice flour so it doesn’t stick to everything like a toddler with maple syrup. Place the dough into a bowl lined with a clean towel dusted with rice flour, cover it well, and set it in the fridge to cold ferment for 4–8 hours. You can go longer if you want a stronger sourdough flavor. Longer ferment = more flavor = more bragging rights.
When you’re ready to make the naan breads, let your dough sit out for 45 minutes. Then divide the dough into ten equal pieces. Roll each piece out, or flatten it in a tortilla press. Heat a large cast-iron pan over medium-high heat and cook each naan in plenty of ghee on both sides until puffed, golden, and smelling like you should open a restaurant.
How to Turn Responsible Bread Into Irresponsible Chips
From here, you have options. You can serve the hot naan fresh with my Goan Vindaloo or Moroccan Lamb Curry with Warm Spices and Slow-Cooked Flavor, which makes you look like you planned an entire international dinner on purpose. Or… you can turn them into the greatest sourdough pita chips of all time.
To make naan or pita chips, slice the cooked breads into wedges using a pizza cutter once they are cool. Spray the pieces lightly with avocado oil spray or coconut oil spray, then sprinkle with salt and whatever seasoning you like — garlic, onion, parsley, oregano, ground Aleppo pepper, sumac or whatever makes you feel like you shop in the spice aisle of Whole Foods instead of just walking past it.
Air fry in your BPA-Free Air Fryer until crispy, golden, and dangerously snackable (About six minutes at 375)
