Hidden Valley Camp Food Memories

Candy Delivery

Photo courtesy of Hidden Valley Camp

Suddenly, all signs seemed to point to Freedom, Maine, a tiny town with 719 people. First, former Food & Wine editor Dana Cowin’s Editor’s Letter mentioned her son going to summer camp in Freedom. Next, my parents’ friends told me about the most incredible seasonal restaurant, Lost Kitchen, in Freedom. The return of “Wet Hot American Summer” to Netflix – even though the show starred adults as campers – somehow brought me back to Freedom. Even visiting my Bank of America ATM had me think of Freedom, since a llama appears onscreen as part of their latest ad campaign. My mind flashed back to the late ’80s, when I spent three summers feeding and brushing a spitting, kicking herd of llamas, the surprising mascot for Hidden Valley Camp…at the end of a dirt road…in Freedom, Maine.

To say that I had formative culinary memories at Hidden Valley Camp would be an overstatement, but I did have a lot of fun food moments in between grueling tetherball games, failed attempts to pass my swim test in the lake, and white-knuckle crawls along the camp’s ropes course.

Angelenos don’t seem to understand, but summer camp is big on the East Coast. My family was friends with the Newmans. Peter was about my brother Eric’s age, and his father Jim was either camp director at the time, or very involved with Hidden Valley, which has no connection to the popular salad dressing. When Jim wasn’t making Egg McNewmans, his shameless ripoff of McDonald’s Egg McMuffin, he helped run the show. My brother attended the camp first, and I followed him to Maine a few years later.

Most days, we piled into the barn-like mess hall for pretty standard food, most of which I can’t even remember. Thankfully, they made some exceptions. Once a year, a camp counselor would march us down the dirt road, past Hidden Valley’s entrance, to an ice cream shop called The Apple Squeeze. My brother remembers a four-mile walk through the woods, with an option to arrive on horseback, which feels overly dramatic. What’s next, a route to The Apple Squeeze on Class V rapids that requires a raft with busted oars? Regardless, I remember their house-churned ice cream being some of the best of my youth, rivaled only by Springer’s in Stone Harbor, New Jersey. Maybe it was the effort it took to reach The Apple Squeeze, or the summer heat, but their mint chocolate chip ice cream has become a cone of legend.

Hidden Valley still gathers campers on the soccer field each summer for the candy drop, a mind-bending tradition that involves people tossing heaps of candy out of a Cessna like an airborne piñata. How they get a liability waiver for this ritual is beyond me, but kids scatter across the field hunting for a spare Tootsie Roll, Hershey’s Kiss, or Starburst (yellow Bursts, be damned) while hoping they don’t catch a Snickers with their retina.

The biggest moment was the annual lobster feast, which would take place on each session’s last night. Maine lobster?! This regional delicacy was easily achievable for every camper as long as they could avoid one pitfall: instant gratification. Each summer, we each received an allowance at the snack truck, which I remember being a retooled bus parked by the basketball court. Each camper received a certain number of credits, and if you had enough credits left at the end of camp, you’d get a lobster. One of my great food regrets is never getting to crack the claws of a sweet Maine lobster and dip it into drawn butter. Instead, I burned through my credits on granola bars and soda, like I was the pathetic test subject in some kind of twisted behavioral experiment. Thankfully, in my job as a food writer, I’ve been able to enjoy Maine lobster on many occasions since summer camp, but never at the source. Eating a burger on lobster night has become one of my most shameful food memories, and likely my biggest food regret. Since I’m now way too old to re-enroll, maybe Hidden Valley will hire me as a Counselor-In-Training? Will Work For Lobster.


Joshua Lurie

Joshua Lurie founded FoodGPS in 2005. Read about him here.

Blog Comments


Say hello to Pete and the family. I still remember you driving us up from Portland the first summer that I attended.

Eric Lurie


I hope you are doing well. I live in the Atlanta area, but still have fond memories of summers in Maine. Take care.

Eric Lurie

Great article! Funny, I don’t recall the lobster being dependent on not having bought too many sodas at the camp store. I thought it was the default unless you were allergic or didn’t like it. In general I recall HVC food having a “healthy” bent to it, though you can only do so much with kids. And there were numerous exceptions.

I was in your brother’s cabin in 1983 and 84, say hi for me!

Mark, I’m pretty sure lobster depended on credits when I attended Hidden Valley. No way I would have passed up lobster for any reason other than immediate gratification. I’ll tell my brother Eric that you left a comment.

My 10 year old son recently decided to follow in my footsteps and go to Hidden Valley Camp in 2018. But, he wants to know if the candy drop I speak of happens every month or just once per summer, as he believes that is the only reason to agree to try sleepaway camp! I am so relieved to hear the Cessna dropping candy tradition is still alive and well.

Tamara, The candy drop is beyond belief, and a whole lot of fun.

Just saw a little piece on Lost Kitchen the other day. For a town with less than 800 people this definitely sounds like a spot worthy of a trip! Can’t wait to check this out. Fall would be a gorgeous time to go.

I’m tempted to go back to Freedom at some point to share the area with my family. If so, I’ll be sure to book a table at Lost Kitchen.

Great article, brought back many wonderful memories. We visited HVC
last summer to help pickup Peter’s daughter, our grandchild. Third generation of Newman HV campers !
And thank you for remembering us. Jim

Jim, Good to hear from you. Very cool to hear that your family’s continued the HVC tradition. I hope to revisit someday with my wife and daughter.

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