Dining Notes

Many years ago, I helped a guy named Stu sail his 25' Coronado sloop "Sloopy Too" from West Palm Beach to St. Thomas, USVI.  I was 19 or 20 at the time, and Stu was moving to St. Thomas to set up shop as a marine electrician.  For all I know, he's still there, plying his trade.  I remember four things from the trip.  First, he had an extremely hot and young girlfriend, and on the passage, on this tiny tiny boat with two other guys on board (myself and a friend of his), the two of them would disappear below, close the hatches in the hottest part of the day, and leave me and his friend with no misunderstanding or uncertainty about what was transpiring (and perspiring) down below.  I mastered the art of dignified nonchalence.

Second, in heavy waves, the entire hull of this tiny, not-really-ready-for-the-ocean boat would flex inward a good 4-5 inches.  Scary -- nay terrifying -- at first, but better a reed than an oak tree on a storm as they say.  Third, I remember arriving in the Virgin Islands, on the island of St. John's, in Francis Bay.  I say "on."  We beached the boat at the conclusion of the 1100 nm trip.  The boat was so light, and so shallow in draft that we could -- and did -- literally sail the boat to shore.  I have a wonderful picture of Stu scratching his head as if to say, "How did this happen?"

The last thing I remember about this trip was that we encountered three + days of miserable weather -- winds in our face, steep seas, and just plain miserable conditions.  The girlfriend got really seasick, as did Stu's friend, and my enduring memory of those three days boils down to food.  We knew we needed to stay nourished, but cooking was out of the question.  After a day or so, we ran through all the ready-to-eat/prepared-in-advance foods, and we went to the corned beef and hash.  Stu was an old U.S. Navy  radar operator, so corned beef and hash must have been a favorite on his ships, because he had stocked a large number of #10 cans of this stuff -- that's the size you see in elementary school cafeterias.  With no preamble, he grabbed a can, opened it with his pocketknife, stuck a fork in the brownish mush, and passed it to me.  We ate out of the can for two+ days, passing it back and forth when we were hungry, and keeping en eye on each other's energy levels.

All of this to say that, to paraphrase the good Dr. M.L. King, I've been to the valley bottom of shipboard dining.

Rest assured, fair readers, I have also been to the mountaintop.  Here's a major shout-out to Jennifer and her boat cuisine.  With food purchases in DC, Florida, Panama, and then Tahiti, I have never eaten food as healthy, tasty, fresh, diverse, nourishing, and downright delicious as on this trip.  Whether it's fresh fish, curried with rice and real herbs, or a pasta dish with diced chicken, or, yesterday's concoction, fresh homemade chicken noodle soup, or this morning's freshly baked banana bread with walnuts and cranberries -- it's a gustatory delight here on ile de Grace.  While in port, many's the meal with a fresh salad, and on Sundays, we have crepes, with a delicious topping of caramel.  It's a real art -- and a chore to be sure -- to think about meals every day and to plan and execute such a diverse menu; my part starts when hers ends, and I'm pretty good as a dishwasher, but the real culinary kudos go to Jennifer, my wife, best friend, and co-captain

Hallelujah!