FEATURE
Campfire Talks and Campfire S’Mores:
Food as an Interpretive Tool with National Park Concessionaires
A rather unique handwashing station, combining past and present. Notice the horseshoes used as water pumps on the ground. Photo by Grace Teofilo Hilker, 2025.
It takes a lot of effort to not be impressed by Yellowstone National Park, but I tried very, very hard when I was thirteen. Everything was cringe to me. The hiking boots my parents made me wear, the “buttpack” that my (to me, back then) not-very-cool parents demanded I wrap around my waist, even the water bottle holder my responsible parents forced upon me which I believed was the epitome of embarrassment (Hydration? In 2011? Forget about it). My teenage self was determined to not have a good time, and so after spending a week (pretending to be) thoroughly unimpressed by geysers, hot springs, and mudpots, I finally gave up when my family went to the Old West Cookout at Roosevelt Lodge. We listened to wranglers share history and cowboy stories as we rocked back and forth sitting in the back of a covered wagon, looking out awestruck at a gorgeous Yellowstone valley. We talked, laughed, and listened to a singing cowboy, who serenaded us as we ate a delicious dinner of steak and baked beans while surrounded by a beautiful landscape.
I really wish that I remembered the ranger programs I listened to on that trip. Instead, I remember petting the horses, eating the delicious food with my family, and feeling utterly immersed in this fantastic lineage of cowboy to wrangler that I got to be a part of for one evening. That food event has created a lifelong memory for me; one I still cherish and inspires me to this day.
A view of the Old West Cookout dinner location. A crowd is gathered around the campfire, listening to the singing cowboy. Photo by Michele Teofilo, 2011.
I believe that these food experiences are underestimated. Occasionally these national park food experiences, such as dining halls or Old West cookouts, are undersold as just simple entertainment. It’s time to acknowledge how fundamental these experiences are to many national park visitors by treating these experiences—and the staff who share them with the public—with the respect they deserve.
I presented a poster about my research on using food as an interpretive tool at national park lodges during the 2025 NAI National Conference in Virginia Beach, at the Marketplace of Ideas. There were dozens of kind, thoughtful interpreters who read my poster and responded with something like, “I have a food program that teaches campfire cooking skills” or “I interpret historic food at my living history site” or “I teach park visitors how to forage.”
This article is not about the audiences my fellow interpreters described.
Not because they aren’t great ideas! I would love to attend a historic food demonstration, and I have been to several unique food tours and educational events and loved every minute. But think of the park visitors who aren’t like me, who don’t intentionally seek out programming or campfire talks. How do we reach them? This is not a directive, this is simply a conversation I hope to start.
Horses pull two covered wagons through Pleasant Valley, Yellowstone National Park. Photo by Dean Teofilo, 2011.
Took a vacation back to Yellowstone in 2025 for “research purposes.” Thrilled that I could see the Old West Cookout once again 14 years later, this time with dear friends. Photo by Grace Teofilo Hilker, 2025.
Let’s look at Yellowstone once again. In 2012, only 8% of park visitors participated in a formal interpretive program, and an additional 10% had any kind of interaction with a park ranger. When isolated by race or ethnicity, people of color had even lower percentages of interaction. Authorized concessionaires, or the private companies that partner with the NPS to provide food, lodging, and other amenities, serve about one-third of all visitors to NPS sites. Within Yellowstone alone, about 14% of visitors stay in official park lodging. Concessionaires don’t reach everyone, but their numbers do matter.
It’s safe to assume that the numbers of those who attend formal ranger programs overlap to some extent with those who visit an authorized concessionaire to purchase a meal. We can expand the number of people who are exposed to a park’s interpretive themes by focusing interpretive strategies on areas that are currently managed by concessionaires. Knowing your audience is one of the core tenets of interpretation in the 21st century. Knowing their desires and motivations, along with their physical location and physiological needs, provides an opportunity to expand interpretive offerings to locations that far greater percentages of park visitors will utilize: food service.
Marrying interpretation to food service could mean just about anything. It could be an educational horseback ride to a campfire cookout. It could be incorporating interpretive writing into your menu design or the decor of a restaurant. The specifics will come down to you and your site, but the important thing to remember is that interpretation is changing and will continue to change as each generation becomes more reliant on technology, instant gratification, and need for immersive experiences. Interpretive offerings need to expand beyond the walls of a visitor center, and using food service could encourage new audiences to experiment with interpretive themes in ways they wouldn’t have before.
A wrangler pouring a fresh cup of cowboy coffee for my dad. We’re from the Midwest, but you can tell my dad did his best to blend in to the Wyoming fashion scene. Photo by Michele Teofilo, 2011.
A seasonal employee working for an authorized concessionaire will never replace federal employees or the institutional memory and various skills that come with being a federal park ranger. I am not advocating for any kind of replacement. But what I am acknowledging is the reality that park staff are at maximum capacity, and private companies can provide a means for a park visitor to still be exposed to essential interpretive themes, in a way that is unique and different from what a federal employee can do. As someone who has worn a concessionaire uniform and a federal uniform, I understand firsthand how visitors may mistake national park or concessionaire employees for one another. Many of the questions I was asked while I was scooping a visitor’s ice cream were the same questions that are asked in visitor centers. All parts of a park educate, so it’s important to advocate for further training for seasonal concessionaire employees so they are supported when they are asked to share a park’s mission or details. We can support seasonal concessionaire employees while also doing what we can to preserve park staff positions.
My first experience with food interpretation was located within a quick service restaurant. I wore a costume each day, was given a character profile as part of my training, and taught people about dinosaur fossils while also selling burgers and fries. My site? Walt Disney World. Working for the mouse showed me that even though I was flipping burgers, my time spent as an employee contributed to the greater story being told, and that when guests consumed the food, they were part of the story too. I worked at Restaurantosaurus in Disney’s Animal Kingdom theme park. I was encouraged to tell the story of the site to guests, to point out the dinosaur “bones” on the walls, and engage with them as they enjoyed their meal.
Exhibit designer Nina Simon calls these interactions “participatory experiences,” or the ways that visitors can construct their own meanings through ways that they interact with the material. Simon says that when a visitor is given concrete instructions of how to participate (such as ordering off a menu) and is provided customized content, such as through the food they order, they are given a way for that visitor to self-identify with the institution. Memory evocation can be increased through food interpretation, which provides another avenue for a park visitor to engage with the park’s resources.
My first national park job was scooping ice cream at the Colter Bay General Store in Grand Teton National Park. My day-to-day tasks were not interpretation, but customer service. It’s not easy to attempt to interpret the resource during an after-dinner dessert rush, but I think back to the times when it was slow, when I had the opportunity to chat with families as they were deciding what to order. Many of those families didn’t have the opportunity to ask rangers questions about the park, so they brought it up to us instead while waiting in line for their ice cream. They were curious about our favorite hikes or where to stop for food on their long drive home. On a slow evening, I enjoyed chatting with park visitors and sharing what I knew about the park. But my expertise was limited, based on what I had picked up from co-workers or in passing. And yes, my interactions with them were brief, but think of how transformative a quick non-formal interpretive encounter can be.
Wearing my “costume” as a Walt Disney World “Cast Member.” Working at Restaurantosaurus was a T-Rexcellent experience! Photo by Grace Teofilo Hilker, 2018.
The Teofilo family eating steak, baked beans, potatoes, and cornbread. You can’t beat that view! Photo by Dean Teofilo, 2011.
Millions of visitors may never watch a ranger program, but based on data presented earlier, they are more likely to chat with an ice cream attendant, talk to a bartender, or say hi to a bellhop. All those interactions matter and could further strengthen a site’s goal of sharing its interpretive themes to visitors if all of those staff receive training too.
Interpretive training for current concessionaire staff is limited or non-existent. Interpretive training managers at big parks like Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon are able to train specific employees who lead tours, like wranglers or tour bus drivers, but most concessionaire employees never receive any kind of interpretive training. Think of all the opportunities for further engagement that are lost. Of course, a bellhop’s main job is to move luggage, and a server is supposed to bring food. Discretion is essential. But curating a culture of education throughout all aspects of concessionaire operations could make a difference. No matter your opinion of the Walt Disney Company, the “Disney difference” is real, because every “Cast Member” (internal company term for “employee”) is part of the story, helping guests feel like they’re part of the magic. Concessionaire employees could do that too. When a server brings out the food, they could quickly talk about local ingredients that are connected to the area. When a concierge attendant helps a family find a favorite hiking trail, they can take a few seconds to share why that trail is historically or environmentally significant. While remaining within an employee’s job description, the possibilities for incorporating further interpretive strategies are limitless.
Scooping huckleberry ice cream for park visitors taught me about customer service but also about how to live and work in a national park. This was taken after my last shift as a deli worker at the Colter Bay General Store in Grand Teton National Park. Photo by Grace Teofilo Hilker, 2017.
Concessionaires could further the park mission and create memorable experiences by infusing interpretive practices into employee training sessions. Effective training provides the resources for staff to be able to have an in-depth knowledge of the resource, while doing their main job responsibilities well. Even a short conversation with a guest while they’re ordering their food or checking into their lodge room can introduce concepts that will spark a visitor’s curiosity to dive deeper on their own time.
Interpretive consultant Michelle Moon reminds us, “Strong food interpretation begins by thinking first about who was at the table, not what was on it.” Dining in an immersive restaurant means that ordering food off the menu is more than choosing what to eat, it is a way to place the dinner guest at the center of the story. An important caveat, especially in a national park site, is to ensure the narrative reflects history and its subjects accurately. A horse wrangler embodying the spirit of a 19th century cowboy is a fun way to entertain and educate, but a cowboy cookout may not fully acknowledge the legacy of Indigenous peoples who also shaped a park’s landscape or who also were riding horses across the plains. Just as interpreters are held to a high standard of accurate and thoughtful presentations, national park concessionaires should consider these standards as well, especially due to how often the two institutions can be confused for the other. Whether it’s re-examining decor or taking another look at menu items, it’s important for us as an interpretive field to reflect upon the ways that interpretive themes aren’t handled critically enough, or when sometimes these locations can continue to glorify myths.
When done well, this is where the strengths of a private concessionaire can come in. A fine dining restaurant within a lodge can partner with an Indigenous chef or with the neighboring tribal government to incorporate Indigenous ingredients and foods. Campfire cookouts can include new genres of music or feature entertainers or educators that go beyond the one-trick pony story. An ice cream shop can feature specialty flavors or wall decor that match a park’s mission and purpose. An authorized concessionaire is expected to be “complementary to a park’s mission and visitor service objective,” which means that these private companies can operate in creative ways that go beyond the day-to-day operations of a federal site and provide amenities for visitors to use that immerse them within the park's educational themes.
Scholar Enrique Salmon writes, “When we eat our foods, we are ‘eating our landscape,’ eating the stories, eating our histories, eating our worldviews. Our foods are more than nourishment; they are markers of identity interwoven with landscapes and culturally symbolic events that occurred on those lands.” What are ways that we as interpreters can guide a visitor’s experience in a way that links food choices to our greater identity? When I enter a space as a dinner guest, every choice matters, from the decor to the ingredients to how I am served.
Operations at National Parks have changed in the past year and the interpretive industry has evolved as well. Continuing to present strong ranger programming is essential, but additional strategies to improve the visitor experience at parks should be explored. What are ways that we can examine our relationships with our community partners, with local businesses, with key stakeholders, to introduce new offerings for visitors at our sites? How can we deepen partnership with these stakeholders, while also holding them accountable?
I would not be in the career I have today if I didn’t have my start teaching guests about dinosaur fossils or hiking trails, in between bussing tables or scooping ice cream. As a food service employee, I was just as much part of a person’s one-in-a-lifetime experience as Mickey Mouse or a Park Ranger. I might not have made the family photo album, but I did contribute by answering questions thoughtfully, providing a smile during a stressful day, or greeting them in a way that made them feel truly welcomed. Concessionaire employees may not always receive the same accolades or glory, but these employees contribute to a person’s travels in a way that makes them feel supported, comfortable, and safe.
What are some conversations you could start at your own site? How can you reach out to a partner or stakeholder who also serves guests at your site? What are ways to expand access to interpretive offerings beyond typical programming? I focus on food, but this could include gift stores, recreation, or broader hospitality. We are stronger together and can do more as a team. When a concessionaire employee joins the call to interpret a site’s resources from behind a counter or at a cash register, the mission spreads further. When a visitor encounters park themes from every staff member they meet, think of how that park visitor, and many more to follow, could become stewards and supporters of our public lands.
Some things never change. A view of the dinner bell at the Old West Cookout. Photo by Michele Teofilo, 2011.
