I started overnight camp when I was 8 years old. 8 weeks each summer in La Plume, PA. Loved everything except the end of Parent's Weekend, which was such heartbreak. All boys, no underwear. Lived in tents. Ridiculously competitive. Run by a Jewish dentist who would not allow Cokes except for one bottle a summer. Served them up when you were not even thirsty. Sardines were the contraband. Traded. Cherished. Shared in the darkness after taps.
Last week I had grilled sardines at Market Table in New York - they were exquisite. Tried them at home last night. Cleaning them was an adventure. Mine were better than dipping into an oily tin in the dark at camp but not as good as Market Table.