Flames are for show. Coals are for cooking.

The job

Build a fire at a campsite, cook dinner on it for a family of four, and put it out so completely that the next camper never knows you were there.

How the rookie does it

3:45 p.m. Arrive. Announce that we're going to "live off the land." Leave the camp stove in the truck, because that's cheating.

4:10. Fire building begins before the tent is up. Gather an armful of green branches and a pinecone for morale.

4:40. The fire is a thing of beauty in the way a house fire is a thing of beauty. Flames are two feet tall and I'm standing 15 feet back, which feels about right.

5:30. Hot dogs go on sticks. The sticks are also green. They hiss and steam and the hot dogs slowly slide off into the fire, one by one, like a very small, very sad parade.

6:00. My daughter, age nine, asks whether the marshmallow is supposed to be on fire. I tell her it is "caramelizing." She looks at me the way her mother looks at me.

6:40. Dinner is black on the outside and cold in the middle. My wife quietly produces the peanut butter sandwiches she packed "just in case." She was right. She's usually right. I eat two.

9:15. Bedtime. I pour half a bottle of water on the fire, see it hiss, and call it done. I wake at 2 a.m. wondering about it. I should have.

How the veteran does it

3:45 p.m. Arrive. Tent goes up first, while there's daylight. Fire comes later, when there's something to cook.

4:30. He uses the fire ring that's already there. He doesn't build a new one. He picks up the bottle cap and the twist of foil someone left in it, because that's the code: leave it cleaner than you found it.

4:40. Fire's lit. Small, dry wood on the bottom, bigger wood stacked over it. A bucket of water and a shovel sit next to the ring, and they stay there all night.

5:30. He isn't cooking yet. He's sipping coffee and watching the flames die down. This is the whole trick.

6:15. Flames are gone. The wood has collapsed into a bed of glowing coals under gray ash. Now he cooks. Chicken thighs in foil packets with potatoes and onions. Sausages on a grate, turned with long tongs.

7:00. He checks the chicken with a pocket thermometer. Done at 165°F.

7:30. Dinner. Everybody eats. Nobody's marshmallow is on fire, because he knows how to hold it over coals instead of in the flames.

9:00. He drowns the fire, stirs the ashes, and drowns it again. Then he puts the back of his hand to it. Cold. Bed.

What the veteran knows

1. Check fire restrictions before you leave home. Call the ranger district or check the land agency's website. When there's a ban, there's a ban, and it covers more than you'd think. Bring a camp stove and be glad you did. Fire rules change week to week in dry country.

1. Use the existing ring, and pick your spot like it matters. Stay at least 15 feet from tents, and well clear of overhanging branches, dry grass and anything else that can catch. Check the wind before you light. Smoke follows the person with the new jacket.

1. Burn dry, local wood. Buy firewood near where you'll burn it. Moving wood across long distances can carry insects and disease into forests that can't afford them. If gathering is allowed, take only dead and downed wood, and nothing thicker than your wrist. Green wood smokes and spits. Pine pops sparks, so keep it away from your sleeping bag and your jacket.

1. Never use gasoline or any other accelerant. Not lighter fluid, not "just a splash." Start with a tight handful of tinder (dry grass, bark, a fire starter), add pencil-thin kindling, then build up. Light it from the upwind side. Keep your sleeves short or tight while you do.

1. Cook on coals, not flames. After the fire's burned down for 30 to 45 minutes, you'll see a glowing bed under gray ash. That heat is steady and even. If you can't hold your palm over the grate for more than a couple of seconds, it's too hot, so wait. Use long-handled tongs and a heavy glove. A hot cast-iron handle looks exactly like a cold one.

1. Trust a thermometer, not a color. Chicken needs 165°F. Ground beef needs 160°F. A fifteen-dollar instant-read thermometer beats a family's worth of guesses. Hot dogs are precooked, but heat them through anyway.

1. Drown, stir, feel. Pour water slowly on the fire until the hissing stops. Stir the ashes and embers with a stick or shovel so water gets to the bottom. Then hold the back of your hand near the ashes. If it's too warm to touch, it's too hot to leave. Never walk away from a fire, even to the truck for something you forgot.

Pack out your trash, including foil. It doesn't burn away. Foil, cans and plastic don't belong in the ring, so don't put them there.

Your first time, done like a veteran

• Check the fire restrictions and the weather for your campsite two days before you go.
• Bring a camp stove anyway. It's the backup plan, and sometimes it's the only plan.
• Pack a bucket, a shovel, long tongs, heavy gloves and an instant-read thermometer.
• Bring two lighters. Keep one dry.
• Set up the tent before you build the fire.
• Pick up any trash in the ring when you arrive. Leave the ring better than you found it.
• Be patient. Wait for coals. Dinner at 7:30 beats dinner at 6:40 that nobody can eat.
• Drown it, stir it, feel it. Then do it again.

For more on keeping a first trip short and successful, start with your first family camping trip should be one night. The rest of what belongs in your pack is in the ten essentials and why veterans still carry them.

And pack the peanut butter sandwiches. Somebody who loves you already did.