With A Serving Of Hot Custard

We’re here! We made it!

After 3 weeks and 1 day, we have arrived in Gosport, England. It’s a good thing. It’s a very good thing.  In fact, I’m so pleased that the trip is over, as is everybody else onboard, I am even finding Gosport a joyous place to temporarily reside in despite it being less then idyllic with its weird purple flats, its industry and kebab shops. Very young girls wander round in next to nothing with babies in pushchairs, cigarettes and foul mouths long overdue a bar of soap and I’m finding it all very quaint.

For now.

That was a long and uncomfortable trip and I’m not going to sugar coat it. It is easy to forget once you’ve landed how bad it was but maybe as I get older the rose coloured glasses are beginning to lose their tint a bit. I’m looking back on the delivery as I sit, nice and still in a quirky little bar on an old Light Ship called – ‘The Light Ship’ – with some lovely poached eggs and a cup of English Breakfast Tea and I am in no way looking back with fond memories to regale you with.

I lie. And how ungrateful of me. We did see a large pod (pod?) of whales very early one morning with one swimming very close to the boat.  One night we had around 15 dolphins laughing their heads off whilst playing in the slip- stream of our bow, an awesome sight.  Dolphins never fail to amuse.

And also on the plus side, I suppose, the Bay of Biscay was a doddle. However we didn’t catch one fish.
So it had its ups ‘n’ downs in all sorts of senses; as well as the kind that makes you want to dangle your head over the side of the boat and never eat again.

But now here we are in sunny Gosport and ‘pop’,  the crew are already up in numbers to twelve. The boat is being de-rigged of her delivery gear and is now looking rather more like the beautiful racing boat that she is. Her top mast went in today, always an exciting event involving a crane and my fiancé up the mast in a harness.

I’ve been buying and cooking all things English to show off to our Italians and Americans and the Australian. Cream teas with fresh strawberries, toasted crumpets and proper mature Cheddar cheese, roasted Gammon with parsley sauce and Jersey Royals, Bangers ‘N’ Mash with free range organic pork and apple.  Jammy dodgers and Elderflower cordial, curly kale and Brambly Apples!

I am really enjoying myself.

So I’m pretty convinced my next recipe to share will be heartily English followed swiftly by the odd Diamond Jubilee/my Birthday cake experiment. The crew have been very forthcoming with their suggestions for that one having had much time to ponder over happy cake memories whilst sitting in dripping wet weather gear and harnesses on cold, rough dark watches.

Ah, home and cake. It doesn’t get much better than that. Unless of course, it comes with a side serving of hot custard...

Thanks for reading.
Cheers!

The moon and the lighthouse

The beautiful Benodét - The home of sailing

It Aint all Rock 'N' Roll

I'm so glad thats over! I just crawled into my bunk having cooked and eaten lunch. And I am exhausted. As we crawl our way up the Portugese coast, finally out of the Med and heading North, the seas have a distinct Atlantic 3 meter swell topped with added 2 meter, choppy waves from which a cold salt spray treats us regularly to a surprising faceful. And it's about to get alot worse according to the latest weather report. Splendid.

It took me 2 whole hours to make a minestroni soup with potato gnocci. This boat was designed excellently for racing - for open sea passages it was not. She rolls like a pig in a mud and worse. Hense our average speed of 5 knots. My Dad's plastic 38 footer can go faster than that.


The unpredictable motion of the sea caught me off guard more than once sending me flying. You can't just get a couple of onions out of the drawer and chop away in a sea like this, everything has to be done one at a time, slowly and systematically whilst 'brace-bracing' up against the cupboards. Either that or play an endless game of 'chase the onion around the boat'.
The crew are pretty knackered and very fed up with living in this exagerated, continuous rolling.   If you're not on watch, the only other place you can be is in your bunk. But a short kip is a tense affair when one is wedging oneself into the confines of a bunk and lee cloth in the attempt to stay in one spot long enough before the next big wave and bow-slammer catapault you skywards. For the partially dozing, finding your body airborne above your bunk is most odd. And the landing will put an end to any idea of sleep. 

And here I am holding on tightly in my bunk about to attempt the impossible. So here we go, wish me luck.
Cheers!

The Buisness of Cooking

I really love being the cook onboard. Yes, I'm aware that a week ago I was praying for tera firma as we bashed into a nauseating swell whilst also being solely responsible for providing  good food for 9 others; friends, Fiancée and comrades at sea. But now that my sea-legs are confident, my strong urge to please them with tasty, sustaning meals is navigating my motivation towards the UK, fully floating my boat, the wind in my sails.

I love a good sailing cliché.

That all makes me sound like a lovely, caring person in the buisness of giving; The Florence Nightingale of the wave-riding, gimballed-oven, galley collective. But trust me, there is massive selfishness lurking behind every proffered dish. Compare it to being the one at the party who chooses the music (never me). The folk who are so sure and confident that their taste and knowledge of music will be enjoyed by everybody else without the fear of ridcule, that their Ipod holds the key to the nights ambiance and above all, so that they can listen to what they want to listen to. Thats like me and cooking. If I really fancey Italian meatballs and spaghetti then thats what I cook and thats what everybody else eats. The trick is making them all think that that is exactly what they would have cooked themselves if they'd had the choice.

Reading your audience well in the given situation is a strong asset to cooking for the same people twice a day or indeed if you happen to be DJ'ing for a large group of expectant party-goers ready to unleash some moves.  And when the praise comes your way, tummies are being rubbed, lips licked, depending on the skill of the dancers; or if you're the cook and folk are full and happy, possibly a little satisfied belch being stiffled under a napkin, you can sit back and feel pretty good about yourself. Not only have you just enjoyed the meal of your dreams for that day, you made everybody else feel just the same.

So, on reflection maybe the buisness of cooking is only a little bit selfish. Maybe it's also about sharing your love of food with 9 other people and enjoying the added bonus of being paid to do it.
On a clasic wooden yacht about to pop through the Straights of Gibralta, out of the Med and into Atlantic stuff.

Now lets all pray together for a nice little South Westerly please...

Cheers!

Washing Off The Damp

It's peculiar how you have to wash damp off. I have just come down below from my evening 7-10 watch and I've had to wash a clingy layer of damp from my face and hands. It's not enough to just dry it off with a towel. Hot water and soap and then you're sweet.

The wind has gone from a lazy 10 knots to a dashing 21 in the 3 hours of my watch, the sea from oily flat to 3 foot waves and although that's not huge cause for concern we're headed for port to hide from bigger things happening the other side of the Gibralta Straights. And as usual it's all coming to us bang on the nose. Bummer.

We had the sails up today. Wow (with sarcasm attached). It was a beautiful day on the water, a good breeze, sunshine and we all had a bit of excitement pulling on some halyards. There wasn't quite enough speed to turn the engine off however. This has been the story so far on our journey to the UK; massive sea's and robust winds so that we can't put the sails up or the boat will break, or not enough wind and when there is an acceptable puff, it's coming at us bang on the nose so we can't put the sails up.
    
Boats.

Or, old wooden boats, more to the point.

The Spanish Coast

So I'm crawling into my bunk which is situated just starboard of the engine. It's a bit like trying to sleep underneath the bonnet of your car ('lid' for the Yanks), with the engine at about 3000 revs. Funny though, you do just sort of accept the noise and manage the miracle of sleep. I did have a dream last night though, I was shouting and shouting but nobody could hear me...

I guess the anchor being lowered will wake me around 4 in the morning and then we shall see where I get to go shopping for food supplies tomorrow. How exciting. New Spanish port, new shops and a bit of an explore. The Thai fish curry I made today went down very well. But I'm running out of fresh veg and have no fresh herbs left. The crew are at no real risk of getting scurvy as yet but I'm pretty pleased for the opportunity to stock up on some fresh vitamins.

Well I'd best close my eyes now and think exceptionally quiet thoughts in an attempt to drown out the noise.

Billy doing something pretty nautical...

Goodnight!

You have no idea how many of these sunset shots I had to sift through to decide which one to put on this blog

A Bit of Calm After Lots of Storm

The sun is finally out as we cruise past Spain on our passage to the UK on Mariquita. The sea has a definate attitude about it but compared to the last 24 hours worth of behaviour, it's quite pleasent really. Foulies are hanging out to dry and the salt chucked at us during last nights assualt is emerging as encrusted white swirls of a gentle reminder as to who's boss.

I had to use one of my rough weather meals last night as it was physically impossible to cook in the galley. That and I felt absolutely sea-sick. Which happens once in a while but thankfully not that often. Never let sea-sickness beat you! I Just about managed to spoon one of my pre-made meals, a chilli-con-carne in a pan, added extra kidney beans and served that with nachos, hot baguettes and grated cheese. Apparently it was delicious...

Turns out we leak like a sieve when water is flooding the deck at the rate of yesterdays show-down. The water didn't just drip through into the interior of the boat - it poured. Layers of putty and cat-wrap have since been applied to suspected areas of leakage, the bilges pumped and with any luck, we wont be doing any more impressions of a boat thats in strong danger of sinking.

And I am feeling a whole lot better after a good bowlful of chicken, fennel and noodle soup. I filled it with tarragon, garlic, fennel seeds and leeks and life is good once more. It's funny how quickly you can forget how crap it was, bashing into a huge sea slowing us down to sometimes only 2 knots of speed, the constant spray and cold, wondering when the old sea-legs might decide to kick in. But they have and Spain looks lovely from here but I hope we keep plugging on so that we can make up for lost time and get to the UK as soon as possible.

A brief stop into Barcelona for some fresh stocks and fuel. I made me hasty way to the Barcelonetta market. Awsome.

I need to dive into my vegetable stocks whilst the sea is not too huge and I can actually prep real food in the galley. So I think tonights dinner will be a huge cauliflower and broccoli cheese with a good mustardy sauce, some gruyer cheese and crispy fried lardons served with some hot freshly baked bread. And ketchup. Gotta have ketchup with cauliflower cheese.
Thanks for reading, hope your floor is nice and still.
Stay tuned.
Cheers!

Jim, our fearless leader.

Give Peas a Chance!

I arranged this blog to be posted whilst I am otherwise engaged in the gruelling process of sailing an old wooden boat in hefty seas (forecast) with strong wind on the nose as we head West towards the Gibralta straights on our way to the UK. Whoopee!  I do hope that my sea legs are not failing me in the galley as I attempt to cook for ten hungry (or not) crew. And before you turn green at the thought, here is the besest, tastiest, easiest, cheapest and most wonderful recipe for soup that should make you smile, with a little poem to serve it with. Calorie free (the poem that is).

This poem must be read out loud with a frightfully-frightfully British accent to your kids or your partner, or whom ever is around you to enjoy it, right before you dive into a bowl of pea and mint soup. Serve this wonderfully green pea soup with some warm soda bread straight out of the oven and some feta cheese marinated in chilli and lemon zest and rejoice that spring is here and that means it’s almost summer...

The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are, you are, you are,
What a beautiful Pussy you are."
Pussy said to the Owl "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing.
O let us be married, too long we have tarried;
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose, his nose, his nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling your ring?"
Said the Piggy, "I will"
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon.
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand.
They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Edward Lear 1812-1888

For Pea and mint soup you will need;
1 onion, finely chopped
2 tbsp of fresh mint, roughly chopped
1 tsp fennel seeds
2 cloves of garlic
500 ml/1 pint of chicken or vegetable stock
500g, ½ bag frozen or fresh garden peas
200ml crème fraiche
1 lemon, zest and juice
Mince and slices of quince (but only if you have a runcible spoon)
Method;

• Sauté the onion in a little butter and olive oil in a good sized saucepan.  Sauté gently until they are starting to lightly colour.

• Add the fennel seeds to the pan. Turn the heat up then add the frozen peas with the garlic. Stir well as it all starts to have a good sizzle.

• Now pour the stock into the pan and bring to the boil. As soon as it comes to the boil, turn the heat down so the soup simmers gently for ten minutes.

• Turn the heat off then add the mint the lemon juice and a few tablespoons of the crème fraiche. Use a hand blender to puree the soup till it’s nice and smooth and the most vivid and pleasing green.

• Mix in the rest of the crème fraiche and add the lemon zest to garnish. 

The mint goes in at the end to maintain its fresh flavour and colour. This is one of my most favourite soups of all time and is full of the flavours of a sunny garden on a weekend. Lush. And what a vibrant pea-green it is – the soup, not our boat, or us for that matter.  Although Mariquita is hopefully as you read this, dancing in the light of the moon, the moon. Dancing by the light of the moon.

Thanks for reading,

Cheers!

Ready to Go...

All aboard and ready to go. Dying to get going in fact. Funny how when you’re supposed to have left a place and you’re still there, it doesn’t feel right somehow. Like being in school after everybody else has gone home.

Monday is the big day. The Captain comes on board tomorrow night and Monday morning we’re off. The weather does not look ideal but we have a plan. Basically we will hug the coast so that if we need to, we can dive into a port and cower somewhere or other. Then as soon as the weather allows we will hop across to Majorca or Menorca and see how we go from there. It’ll do for now. The crew are itching to leave.

Living in the crew quarters in the forepeak. Cosy...

 

Good job we didn’t go when we planned to though. Good decision. We’ve heard rumours of braver boats then us, who have broken quite important parts of boat in the very weather we are hiding from. Ouch.

My food stores are ready and distributed around the boat wherethey will fit. The owners shower has been a great spot for storage. Having limited fridge and freezer space means I have to be inventive with where it all goes and how to circulate it. Fingers crossed I dont have too much wastage. Hate waste and rotten food, especially in rough weather. A situation of GET ME OUT OF HERE proportions. Mind you last time my freezer kept defrosting...



Full to the brim



Anyway! Im sure it’lll be sweet. I’ve stocked up the sea-sickness pils.

So for now it’s checking out time and hope to blog soon in pastures new. Wish us luck with the weather and stay tuned for adventures at sea. An old wooden boat with ten crew battling to get to the UK. Bon Voyage!!

Cheers!