tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601869053820008622024-02-19T06:22:48.836+01:00c h a r t e r b o taward-winning professional galley wenchcharterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-53098934932848033402012-07-24T20:05:00.000+02:002012-07-27T09:36:05.394+02:00Gdańsk: a Sunday at home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We wake to the muted ringing of church bells as pale sunshine spills onto the wooden floorboards of our little apartment. There's no rush to get up, not today—it is Sunday morning, our day off.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYOpmm30K7oGrwQHxGrKxPAOCrNdNSJkZTEwwvICshyphenhyphennmP8iRN70Q08QKDDny4jX8yL51NfDy6FmhuXvdE891U4k_cWIekRvvNV_yffJfl6a8X4gLn3nniOaslzBnVW-y8dagOChLMCmF0/s1600/Gdansk12+%257C+gauffres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Gdansk sunday brunch" border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYOpmm30K7oGrwQHxGrKxPAOCrNdNSJkZTEwwvICshyphenhyphennmP8iRN70Q08QKDDny4jX8yL51NfDy6FmhuXvdE891U4k_cWIekRvvNV_yffJfl6a8X4gLn3nniOaslzBnVW-y8dagOChLMCmF0/s640/Gdansk12+%257C+gauffres.jpg" title="" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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Sunday brunch at home: tiny fragrant <em>fraises du bois</em>, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries on local yoghurt <br />
with dark honey and waffles</div>
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It is a year since my last post, and we are back in the old city of Gdańsk. Once again, we are here to oversee the work on a new boat. We've watched her take shape, day by day, timing our shipyard visits to coincide with the workers' break so we don't get underfoot. We swipe our security cards on the unimposing little door that opens out into the huge hangar-like workspace, and walk the yellow safety lines towards our new boat. Dusty sunlight high on the rafters, the rasping and clanking and hammering cacophony, the melange of new-boat smells: sweetish thin solvent fumes, the phenolic dryness of wood shavings with the occasional hint of vanillic coumarin, the dull blandness of epoxy resin—and out of all this emerges the shape we are learning inside and out. Day by day, we watch as her structural bones are fleshed out and panelled and polished, as she is inlaid with neat bundles of wire and circuitry whose electrical pulsings will order her movement and fill her with light and sound, as ridged and curved tunnels of plumbing are laid in her bowels. We snap photos, so we know what lies behind each panel; we record serial numbers of each pump and each bubble-wrapped appliance. We ask questions. We make lists, and compile orders for suites of spare parts, for water toys, for uniforms. It is work, and it is fun.</div>
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But not today. Today, we sit back in bed to enjoy the sounds of home—the leafy rustling outside the windows, the birdsong, the bells. There will be a lazy leisurely brunch made from our eager selections at the open markets the day before—there were generously heaped pyramids of fruit, and brown eggs, and dark honey and delicious local yoghurt as thick as clotted cream; there were fine-boned little elderly women speaking a stately formal English, sitting behind displays of ruffled chanterelles and the plump lewd shapes of ceps. There will be seconds of coffee (and perhaps thirds). Later on, when the bright panels of sunlight elongate and fade, there will be the deep red gleam of wine. It is <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KnizH8lI2Ik" target="_blank">Sunday</a>, the day off. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>only 10 zloty per kilo of these beauties!</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLgjsnpmI4C0k-B57_N_SIRPPjqnQPKq6VdCWsttfDHGk6Dt1MRXJiHamRIHYQ5WzDKWh7KKyst55j04C4v7_Moh0h_gjbcgFUfJ7tEHoPjM47bOFvcot612LcUPFt2UkI_tWhhyphenhyphenqir8DH/s1600/Gdansk12+%257C+blueberries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Gdansk markets blueberries" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLgjsnpmI4C0k-B57_N_SIRPPjqnQPKq6VdCWsttfDHGk6Dt1MRXJiHamRIHYQ5WzDKWh7KKyst55j04C4v7_Moh0h_gjbcgFUfJ7tEHoPjM47bOFvcot612LcUPFt2UkI_tWhhyphenhyphenqir8DH/s640/Gdansk12+%257C+blueberries.jpg" title="" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>fresh succulent berries at the markets</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we bought plants to brighten up the flat—a pot of lavender to crush between the fingers for the scent, mint for tea and salads, basil for everything</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDE4riHByH1zpBneU__VbQpsL7i4vSGoaLwH786STtlBpfeis_o_uxJ4B81w1kuApuP48zslQz5utbKeaVtmQZjUb_XyDPuO0BpKPVO8lG30OiABJyc1DqMAVF5XIO4oobQobEW02oTTDy/s1600/Gdansk12+%257C+flat1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Gdansk sunny flat" border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDE4riHByH1zpBneU__VbQpsL7i4vSGoaLwH786STtlBpfeis_o_uxJ4B81w1kuApuP48zslQz5utbKeaVtmQZjUb_XyDPuO0BpKPVO8lG30OiABJyc1DqMAVF5XIO4oobQobEW02oTTDy/s400/Gdansk12+%257C+flat1.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our sun-filled little flat in the Stare Miasto (old city)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">so sweet and juicy—even the inimitable <a href="http://www.austen.com/emma/vol3ch06.htm" target="_blank">Mrs Elton</a> could have had no cavil with these<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqA7cP2MuRsfUyUW2jZPqvN4p35xhfUE3k2BcZgeCShEsY_zQtvjN54xKJlxlj68IJh-_oNQJexXqQ8ZeeAphyk2DQ9sY7Zx1lI0Pwi3a-MQZx3CjpaXHH8HTdMtOTB-xpAj0MARNWynY/s1600/Gdansk12+%257C+shopping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Gdansk markets bounty" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqA7cP2MuRsfUyUW2jZPqvN4p35xhfUE3k2BcZgeCShEsY_zQtvjN54xKJlxlj68IJh-_oNQJexXqQ8ZeeAphyk2DQ9sY7Zx1lI0Pwi3a-MQZx3CjpaXHH8HTdMtOTB-xpAj0MARNWynY/s640/Gdansk12+%257C+shopping.jpg" title="" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the best of shopping at the open markets<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-23631447150550579982011-06-07T20:01:00.000+02:002012-07-24T20:57:44.371+02:00Stare Miasto, Gdańsk: a Sunday morning stroll<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZL7IKL-hy6B8_gLJyfbzBwkE59GQHTpI8pOcocEhqFDpNjWw5T1Oi-jc6548PsWcbWAnfbRi2CIYUiuFlv1wNoxlFyUL-JzcgLFsdVjyFSGXJN2OkNCkQVBAxsrIdLnI2gOM9RdptjDpI/s1600/GdanksSM_11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZL7IKL-hy6B8_gLJyfbzBwkE59GQHTpI8pOcocEhqFDpNjWw5T1Oi-jc6548PsWcbWAnfbRi2CIYUiuFlv1wNoxlFyUL-JzcgLFsdVjyFSGXJN2OkNCkQVBAxsrIdLnI2gOM9RdptjDpI/s640/GdanksSM_11.jpg" width="451" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">The countenance of the smallest child is priceless.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSdbrHim4nKyM3ch42jtkiaqAh8_nhjnXTUg5yQvpWLov2OuPnyaLGOMFi7UfoFAhM9nQbwAbTvIim7SzJYYtmgl9KSsuAyAJkpLUC6m0i9D5t36JWWH5pjDNOLUbABvpyhrzcmqcxuBd/s1600/GdanksSM_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSdbrHim4nKyM3ch42jtkiaqAh8_nhjnXTUg5yQvpWLov2OuPnyaLGOMFi7UfoFAhM9nQbwAbTvIim7SzJYYtmgl9KSsuAyAJkpLUC6m0i9D5t36JWWH5pjDNOLUbABvpyhrzcmqcxuBd/s400/GdanksSM_6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">A mermaid at the fountain of Neptune in the heart of the </span><em style="background-color: white;">Dlugi Targ</em><span style="background-color: white;"> [the Long Market]—the headdress places even this oceanid squarely in the fashion of the time. The lumpen infant on her back is less pleasing.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NLYf4GYDrHeFkHZvHSMbhNpAJ-BayPD-MR8lezvoAZmPeYpdZM0G29Zk6sGuM2jLwzydGwA5ifxJnT-udBQMJyvpUFA2Arevyw5tQHAzAcJ3kFOZq9jiGM70ce8XMJltxIc-Cf61Qbst/s1600/GdanksSM_5a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NLYf4GYDrHeFkHZvHSMbhNpAJ-BayPD-MR8lezvoAZmPeYpdZM0G29Zk6sGuM2jLwzydGwA5ifxJnT-udBQMJyvpUFA2Arevyw5tQHAzAcJ3kFOZq9jiGM70ce8XMJltxIc-Cf61Qbst/s400/GdanksSM_5a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">Neptune / Poseidon is truly an appropriate symbol for a port city that has been a maritime trading power since at least the 10th century. How I've loved being in a city with the sea in its veins!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQcg9GkUoLdUMypx28l5YorOXZp5BF9MDZnWaVJDNeHxowoNtrUVW4t2NquSa-YgkRJbcJbUyz7QYRdF0yVGe0OrvRPIsg_GeiLZknFyJFQ5WcI-DtYJpCgAVDMJlx1P1tyFNBz6AJfBpW/s1600/GdanksSM_13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQcg9GkUoLdUMypx28l5YorOXZp5BF9MDZnWaVJDNeHxowoNtrUVW4t2NquSa-YgkRJbcJbUyz7QYRdF0yVGe0OrvRPIsg_GeiLZknFyJFQ5WcI-DtYJpCgAVDMJlx1P1tyFNBz6AJfBpW/s400/GdanksSM_13.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">Such vivid colour, even on an overcast day.</span><br />
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This plump little demon lay smirking indolently at all the virtuously hurrying churchgoers that morning.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">These </span><em style="background-color: white;">poupettes</em><span style="background-color: white;"> entranced me—such detail. I love the aviator's shearling jacket, the gleam of mischief in the harlequin's smile, and the bridal couple floating blissfully up towards the rooftops like a Chagall painting.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0fD6UNM_x-qarhTDg2PWYwOKOvWkWMyZwIakSVkjB-OIyVdHIBhYKXbByw3fHSUnSy4tMDeOPSO4QU5t_WkN9Bz8jxzipztQFTQWsq4GukxGdmziijbk6wLLdlwhhq6Fab42T5uNAYoKn/s1600/GdanksSM_8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0fD6UNM_x-qarhTDg2PWYwOKOvWkWMyZwIakSVkjB-OIyVdHIBhYKXbByw3fHSUnSy4tMDeOPSO4QU5t_WkN9Bz8jxzipztQFTQWsq4GukxGdmziijbk6wLLdlwhhq6Fab42T5uNAYoKn/s400/GdanksSM_8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">But of course my heart went out to the raven-haired beauty in her fine brocade frou frou and the feathered topper tilted smartly above her wistful face—I expect some rake of a </span><a href="http://www.classicreader.com/book/1566/5/" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank">Mirabell</a><span style="background-color: white;"> or Comte de Valmont has been toying with her affections. Or perhaps she was merely contemplating the next order for her dressmaker. See the marvellously pleated sleeves, the lustrous handsewn pearl beading on her pelisse, the rich gold damask of her gown </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: xx-small;">(I think we are looking at 1780s fashion, here)</span><span style="background-color: white;">—can one have cause for melancholy while bedeck'd in such finery?</span><br />
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Well, Ihab Hassan says yes. From the <a href="http://www.ihabhassan.com/cioffi_interview_ihab_hassan.htm" target="_blank">interview with Frank Cioffi</a>:<br />
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<em>...I have no calculus of human suffering, and I don’t know which is greater, the pain of a homeless, hungry man or that of a spiritually stricken woman. But I know that they are both intolerable, and that alleviating the one does not necessarily alleviate the other.</em></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewxhkG6RaiGs5xd4zWx3TqE6unrbDv9SA34_HrZ3_zIAc-z67ZK2ZTU6sKdjrYKFHai0guW-XCDW8b2TIn92Rqy63KwOJxyck1U0hWefZHO6PqL8Q2NC1DC7Ou3iUOJDt6uFUkidKapOh/s1600/GdanksSM_10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewxhkG6RaiGs5xd4zWx3TqE6unrbDv9SA34_HrZ3_zIAc-z67ZK2ZTU6sKdjrYKFHai0guW-XCDW8b2TIn92Rqy63KwOJxyck1U0hWefZHO6PqL8Q2NC1DC7Ou3iUOJDt6uFUkidKapOh/s400/GdanksSM_10.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">The odd little statuette on the left must be the Cheshire cat, melting away into thin air even as we watch. I do rather love the artfully curled tail.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivabZ_iJVGuXYP6NixY_nCrjEvs8M3DyNXzDX8eGPhNoiq6GNgw_AU2kZ27K1vzLySwW6JDra1__mQtEzviYCN5ujSipE2YgaZAHAgLeA71Zxt63z38mDN7kszQmBFp0ixBsaYpOGRzD63/s1600/GdanksSM_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivabZ_iJVGuXYP6NixY_nCrjEvs8M3DyNXzDX8eGPhNoiq6GNgw_AU2kZ27K1vzLySwW6JDra1__mQtEzviYCN5ujSipE2YgaZAHAgLeA71Zxt63z38mDN7kszQmBFp0ixBsaYpOGRzD63/s400/GdanksSM_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">I can't be the only person who thinks this child is a funny wee mortal.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pJRzxht2DWON0s39ANGXLiJsmYNokmLr5Y8vKjov4aoIHFkObRqmfFUg6lcTRlvPHtclqzUWg4zGZPLMIw8dplCmPUMW3ltZ0rzu6daGMY5Nsq6SjgXbzDA-ixWdF-WbnV0_vY1M6OcW/s1600/GdanksSM_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pJRzxht2DWON0s39ANGXLiJsmYNokmLr5Y8vKjov4aoIHFkObRqmfFUg6lcTRlvPHtclqzUWg4zGZPLMIw8dplCmPUMW3ltZ0rzu6daGMY5Nsq6SjgXbzDA-ixWdF-WbnV0_vY1M6OcW/s400/GdanksSM_3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">The gleeful dance of Rumpelstiltskin must have looked very much like this. Or perhaps it's a Polish </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdMCAV6Yd0Y&feature=youtube_gdata_player" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank"><em>haka</em></a><span style="background-color: white;"> to intimidate the evil rubbish-bin he was confronting earlier.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">The reverse of this sign reads </span><em style="background-color: white;">antiques, stamps, coins</em><span style="background-color: white;">. The rooftops on </span><em style="background-color: white;">U. Dluga</em><span style="background-color: white;"> [Long Street] have such a Dutch look to them—well, after all, Gdańsk was once a prosperous member of the Hanseatic League.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">My beloved laptop is throwing a tantrum and flatly refusing to start up past the grey screen—I shan't be able to upload any more photos till we can get the recalcitrant creature to an Apple service centre whe we arrive at Cannes next week. (That sounds quite calm, but really, I am </span><em style="background-color: white;">gutted</em><span style="background-color: white;">.)</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-61213730405446992952011-05-19T07:44:00.000+02:002012-07-25T08:45:48.140+02:00PassagesToday we shall finally cast off our lines—first heading west into the Baltic Sea, following the setting sun towards Denmark. Then through the <a href="http://www.kiel-canal.org/english.htm">Kiel-Canal </a>and into the grey North Sea, the cold English Channel, the Bay of Biscay, the Atlantic Ocean off the coasts of Portugal and Galicia and so on until we reach the warm reaches of the Mediterranean, this new boat's summer home.<br />
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It will be a three weeks' passage, and the most challenging one we will have done together. The enforced delays—necessary modifications, tardily delivered paperwork—have made us chafe at the bit, we want so badly to set sail.<br />
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I think this passage actually began nearly two months ago, anchored off a small island in the Caribbean on a sunny morning. Or perhaps it began three years (or is it four years now? I forget) earlier in a small town in France, when we packed up our belongings to fly to the Virgin Islands.<br />
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But the Captain thinks it began on the 5th of April when we cast off our lines from the marina dock that had been a home—of sorts—for three years, and raised our sails, heading south to deliver our former boat to the Windward Islands for her last charter with us as crew.<br />
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That was a rough 50-odd hours. We watched as the swell grew into deep rolling troughs, shielding our eyes against the needle-sharp spray as the bow reared up like a distressed animal and came crashing down again, foamy white sea shooting up and past us. The force snapped many of the plastic fastenings to which the trampolines were rigged, and soon enough, the ragged edges of this corner or that were blowing in the wind. The spray forced open a corner of one of the portside UV screens; later on the second night, the screen blew off altogether. But the wind itself was fitful, gusting up uncertainly only to die again, leaving our sails limp and dispirited. Starting the engines gave us little better headway—earlier in the season, the three-blade propellers had been replaced with slower two-blade ones. This meant a loss of speed of half a knot per hour, which seems negligible until you multiply that over the course of a day—then another—and another.<br />
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Though the winds did not favour us, the open sea was generous with her gifts: one day we saw whales breaching; the next, we were treated to the joyous larking about of dolphins at the bow. They were so close we could hear their snorting <i>huff</i> as first one then another leapt and dived before our eyes. We saw the lights of Guadeloupe in the distance, and passed the long flank of lovely Martinique. Later, we sighted St Lucia's Pitons, their twin fangs wreathed with cloud; then the rich green peaks and deep valleys of volcanic St Vincent.<br />
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We tied off safety barriers in the cockpit at night, and took turns doing our watches. Mugs of hot tea warmed and woke us; we shared a ceremonious cold drink together every sundown. We slept very little. The night sky was very beautiful.<br />
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At the end of the third day, quiet little Admiralty Bay in the island of Bequia welcomed us at last. We arrived just after sunset, the orange light catching and reflecting off the salt crystals drying on the boat. When I turned to smile at the Captain, I felt the fine film of salt crack on my cheeks. I licked my dry lips, and tasted the sea.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-45187108913319392252011-05-18T16:36:00.001+02:002012-07-25T08:46:34.091+02:00New boatTen days ago—<br />
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The boat is beautiful. Her glossy white topsides catch the light, and the vivid red of the genoa cover and the gennaker, the bimini and the sailbag, look cheery even under cloud. The light teak of the cockpit harmonises with the blonde wood and dark accent panels of the saloon and galley, giving the interior a pleasantly warm, airy look. Only ten days ago, she looked so different—bubblewrap and protective foam layers everywhere, cardboard sheets underfoot and the ceiling and walls gaping uncovered, bristling with neatly tied bundles of wire and cable.
We are so impressed with workmanship of the boat—quality materials through and through, and the attention to detail is very pleasing to observe: even the backs of the wall and ceiling panels (which no one but us crew or the occasional technician will ever see) are neatly finished. She has been so well-designed to make sure that maintenance of all her systems (plumbing, electrical, hydraulic) are easily accessible—which makes the 'invisible' part of our job as crew, the behind-the-scenes work that keep a charter running smoothly, much easier.<br />
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We can't wait to start welcoming our first charter guests aboard—she is a stunning boat, and will be a real joy to work on.<br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-743916701187405322011-05-17T22:45:00.004+02:002012-07-25T08:46:18.517+02:00Poland: Stocznia Gdańsk<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>cranes near our dock</i></td></tr>
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The day is overcast; against the flat grey sky, the articulated skeletal limbs of cranes move slowly, as if numbed with cold. The weather suits the place, which on superficial inspection appears to be a great heaped junkyard—a grave of robot bones, vast warehouses filled with little more than dusty light and populated only by crumbling piles of plastic refuse, remnants of hoses like dead snakes on the floor, walls patched with fading posters of women with glossy open mouths. Layered traces of old grafitti emerge from the peeling shreds of newer ones. There is every shade of drab, from oxidized ferrous russet to mossy copper viridian to soot-stained lead. It is as if the clean outlines of a <a href="http://www.google.pl/search?q=charles+sheeler&hl=pl&client=firefox-a&hs=q1l&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=ivnso&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=MtTSTbG8MsWg-wau9M2PBg&ved=0CCcQsAQ&biw=1362&bih=687">Charles Sheeler </a>painting had been filled in with the raucous visual textures of <a href="http://www.google.pl/search?hl=pl&client=firefox-a&hs=s1l&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial&biw=1362&bih=687&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=robert+rauschenberg&aq=f&aqi=g1&aql=&oq=">Robert Rauschenberg</a>. A pair of incongruous white swans glide as gracefully upon the dull green canal as if it were a pristine lake.<br />
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This is Stocznia Gdańsk, the historic shipyard built on a sluggish canal of the river Martwa Visla (the aptly named "dead Vistula") which empties into the Baltic Sea. To this day, perhaps precisely because its modern industry lives both on the surface of and in-between the undemolished relics of its former life, a ramshackle grandeur suffuses even the disused tram tracks burrowing into the chipped and sprouted cobblestones, and lends a sort of apocalyptic glamour to the rusting abandoned pipe systems that rear abruptly against the sky like mechanized robots from a 1950s science fiction film. Their great welded joins must once have safeguarded the passage of oil and gas through the labyrinth of pipes that fed the industrial beast of old. Now, many of them carry only echoing wind and history.<br />
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But on the rare sunny day, the working cranes can look almost festive against a surprisingly blue sky, as they come alive with explosive insectile creakings. A row of dwarfish metal blowers guards the front lines of a troop of of taller machines—a squat robot army with large blank heads standing sentry over their discarded former demesne. The machines have not won, after all; humans now occupy the day. Unusually, there seem to be as many women as men here, all clad in an Orwellian uniform of dull overalls, swarming purposefully over the hulks and shells of pleasure-boats in the making.<br />
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Walking in the shipyard, each step kicks up a small puff of storied dust that settles back into the ground or on the strewn debris, powdering them with a protective sprinkling of drab. And yet in shaded corners and on the ragged periphery, the trees—tender of leaf and sweet of bud—are reminders that this is Maytime. Cheerful weeds like the bright yellow dandelions—<i>pisse-en-lit</i>, as the French call them—push determinedly between cracks in the paving. They grow so lush that one morning, we arrive at the shipyard and see them being mown down. The air is faintly peppery with the smell of their dismemberment. <br />
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I like being here in the spring, imagining (probably inaccurately) that some of these walks take me through the very grounds where the thousands of workers of the Solidarność movement also walked; I like thinking that from here, the dominoes began to fall, and the oppressive former regimes of Eastern Europe began to crumble away—a giddy thought. It makes me think of the other side of the world, of the other spring of liberty awakening, albeit more painfully, in countries as isolated from hope as this one may once have been. So it all changes.<br />
<i><br />
Omnia mutantur nos et mutamur in illis</i>. Everything changes, and we change with them. Here in Poland, with cold yellow clouds above me, surrounded by the sweet steely fumes of solvents and the urgent whispered conversations of shipwrights and electricians, our former Caribbean life shrinks into the distance. Yet it was only forty-seven days ago when the Captain and I were crouched over the laptop in our cabin, while our charter guests were off snorkeling the gentle blue waters nearby. A stray patch of sunshine fell across the computer screen. The email we were re-reading offered us a job on a new 70' catamaran chartering the Mediterranean in the summer months followed by a transatlantic voyage and the winter months chartering the Caribbean. We looked at each other one more time, a silent question, asking, <i>Are you sure? Are we sure?</i> He nodded. A drop of sweat trickled down my arm as I moved the keyboard towards me. I typed out our answer and clicked the "Send" button with a smart nervous flourish. <i> </i><br />
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<i>Yes,</i> I had written, <i>yes we will, yes</i>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>old pipe systems</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>disused cranes in front of the office</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>a robot army</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>another view </i></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIWCtP1k8-d8OL28fYgncGC2OKv51s-EhBddtir4VqWh-OosOtiGSgIEcFe-Pdtk460XSoTxI7eXhizMypzf28R8KyCIy2d3oTHyVQwNyrXYXGpp3NG7kYd-AyrqVugCbjpKLYgabAnKi/s1600/Stocznia+Gdansk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIWCtP1k8-d8OL28fYgncGC2OKv51s-EhBddtir4VqWh-OosOtiGSgIEcFe-Pdtk460XSoTxI7eXhizMypzf28R8KyCIy2d3oTHyVQwNyrXYXGpp3NG7kYd-AyrqVugCbjpKLYgabAnKi/s400/Stocznia+Gdansk.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-74652358631901680982011-01-28T11:51:00.004+01:002011-01-28T18:05:23.923+01:00sapphires and caramels: more than the sum of their parts"<i>My mother was a very strong character and she dominated us completely," <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">says one of our guests as she leans companiably over my galley counter, "</span>Oh, we grew up poor, really—we didn't have very much, and had to learn to make do. But. Every time my father was in the doghouse with my mom, </i><i>he would come home with a </i>five-pound box<i> of chocolates for her. My brother and I always got to taste some as a treat. But after the first day, the box would mysteriously disappear, never to be seen again!</i>"<br />
<br />
There is laughter all around. On request, we've stocked up the boat with bars of dark Belgian chocolate, but a large box of See's candy also sits on the salon table, a generously shared gift from one of the ladies.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><i>"I grew up in Japan—we were a military family,"</i> says another guest, her delicately featured face crinkled into a smile. <i>"I remember these caramels wrapped in rice paper—edible rice paper. We weren't supposed to have them! My mother was worried about, you know, sanitation; she didn't want us to get sick from eating something... but we loved those caramels, and somehow talked our nanny into bringing them for us!"</i></div><div><br />
</div><div>I've no doubt they tasted all the better for being a forbidden treat...</div><div><br />
</div><div>In my mind's palate, I can taste the soft creamy bonbons from the peace offering given by one man to his strong-minded wife; I can taste the first crispness of the fragile rice paper, melting almost instantly into the caramel chewiness of a furtive gift.</div><div><div><br />
</div><div>This is one of my favourite times of the night on this charter—dinner service is over, and people often stop to chat, their last glass of wine in hand, as we finish washing up the dishes. In this last week, we've had the pleasure of hearing stories about living in Russia and Malaysia and Nashville and Montana, of hunting elk and deer, how to use a paper guide for quilting, a stay in a Tuscan villa with a wonderful chef. Stories of running a friends' culinary club at home, of the most awesome intro to a live Rolling Stones concert ever (<i>a man strolled casually onto the stage without fanfare and launched into a rousing and joyfully strident guitar solo... that man turned out to be Keith Richards</i>). We've heard what it is like to facet a sapphire for the first time. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I didn't know that sapphires come in so many colours. Like jewelled confectionery—gleaming citrus lime and orange, a deep violet that flashes green, a startling hot pink, as well as the blue that I associate with sapphire itself. <i>The stone is called corundum,</i> says our guest as she shows me her handcrafted ring of Montana sapphires,<i> it comes in all these colours. Except when it's red—then it's a true ruby, not called a sapphire.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div>Later, I find out that the word <i>corundum </i>comes from "kuruntam", a Tamil word meaning "ruby".</div><div><br />
</div><div>"<i>The first sapphire I ever faceted... oh I was nervous,"</i> she says. "<i>It was given me by a friend of my father—it was he who taught me how to cut gems. Well, it turned out smaller than it should have!"</i></div><div><br />
</div><div><i>"But you </i>did <i>it,"</i> I tell her, fascinated and admiring. <i>"It must require such precision—a meticulous eye."</i></div><div><br />
</div><div>When I first saw the p<a href="http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011-charter-challenge-1-for-year.html">reference sheet</a> for this charter, my heart sank. I imagined seven long days and nights of rigidly planned logistics designed to accommodate each and every one of their listed preferences. I imagined arduous hours in the galley, hunched over a tightly regimented series of separate chopping boards, utensils, pans; I imagined a constant fight against time to get the separate meals plated and ready.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Well, I was right about the fight against time... but I had forgotten something important: that our guests are so much more than the boxes they have ticked off on their preference sheets. <i>Chicken?</i> Check. <i>Beef?</i> Check. <i>Pork?</i> Seven yes, one no. Bombay Sapphire or Tanqueray? Dewars or JWB? <i>Water consumption</i>-high. <i>Soda consumption</i>- moderate to low. All this tells me nothing of the real people with whom we will share seven days and nights exploring this lovely little string of islands called the BVI.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And now I find the charter I thought I would remember solely for the intensive planning and the logistics, is a charter I remember for the people. For their stories. For their generous sharing of moments that gave us vivid, beguiling glimpses into other histories, other lives.</div><div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-49102211553516085222011-01-16T12:44:00.006+01:002011-01-16T13:16:07.206+01:00Deep breathIn about four hours and twenty minutes, The Captain and I begin the first of a series of five back-to-back charters, all on 24-hour-turnaround—that means forty-two days straight of work.<br />
<br />
That seems like a great deal, until one considers that last season, we did a solid <i>seventeen consecutive weeks </i>on-charter with only <i>one</i> full day off in that seventeen weeks. To this day, we are not sure how we pulled that one off without going insane (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">although going to Venezuela instead of insane would have been my preferred choice at the time</span>). Forty-two days suddenly seems lightweight in comparison, especially if we keep reminding ourselves of the <a href="http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/search/label/jobperks">perks of the job</a>...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-29870422951088845462011-01-16T12:23:00.006+01:002011-01-16T13:20:04.735+01:00Foam on the seaI'm so happy—I think I've cracked the solution to presenting a stabler foam with my lobster bisque. It could still do with a some refinement, but I think I'm finally understanding the principles of structure.<br />
<br />
The whole idea of intense pure flavour in floating lightly on the dish as an evanescent foam appeals to me, it is so appropriate for our sultry Caribbean weather.<br />
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This is a lobster and mango salad presentation: whole Maine lobster tails poached lightly in coconut milk, shallots, fennel, celery, ginger and dry vermouth. I eased each fat tail out of its shell, cooled them and sliced them into medallions for the salad. Then I returned the shells to the poaching liquid and continued the stockmaking till the liquid could absorb no more flavour. <br />
<br />
The base is the lobster stock from the shells, infused with fresh ginger. I reduced that to half the volume and added some creamy coconut milk and the barest hint of lime. It is as pale as foam on the sea without the addition of saffron threads or tomato!<br />
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The first treatment I tried: no stabiliser, just 250 mls of reduction in the ISI whip charged with one nitrous oxide capsule. <br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5359908494/" title="lobster espuma | sans stabliser I by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="lobster espuma | sans stabliser I" height="332" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5163/5359908494_1b7eb3dd4d.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
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The dense mousse-like texture degraded quickly into a more open foam as we served it, as seen below. <br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5359908190/" title="lobster espuma | sans stabiliser II by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="lobster espuma | sans stabiliser II" height="332" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5161/5359908190_97231c09f2.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
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For my second try, I used the same base but this time I whirred 1/2 teaspoon of lecithin granules with 250 mls of the base using an stick immersion blender in place of the ISI whip.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5359909334/" title="lobster espuma | immersion by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="lobster espuma | immersion" height="200" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5124/5359909334_dfca161444.jpg" width="142" /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5359296179/" title="lobster espuma | lecithin by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="lobster espuma | lecithin" height="200" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5168/5359296179_b4cfc488a3.jpg" width="142" /></a><br />
<br />
The foam that collected on the surface was light, with large frothy open bubbles that remained stable for presentation. I did notice that halfway through consumption, the foam had begun to dissolve back into liquid at the bottom of the martini glasses. <br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5359909730/" title="lobster espuma | plus stabliser I by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="lobster espuma | plus stabliser I" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5290/5359909730_b9de9c70b3.jpg" width="357" /></a><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Salade d'homard et sa ècume</span></i><br />
<br />
This time, I presented the Maine lobster tails as retro-kitsch 1970s avocado cocktail salad.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5359297051/" title="lobster espuma | plus stabliser II by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="lobster espuma | plus stabliser II" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5207/5359297051_e312e63058.jpg" width="357" /></a><br />
<br />
I may try next time to thicken the reduction a little with a <i>liaision</i> to see if the yolks and cream might give a little more protein structure, and compare that to thickening with a standard roux. <br />
<br />
I am having so much fun playing around with this! Next stop—xanthan gum...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-83142374334071867612011-01-11T16:42:00.006+01:002011-01-11T16:52:41.089+01:00Views from the office<div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I ought to add that considering my current 'office views' fore and aft this morning, I've absolutely <i>no</i> cause for either wailing or repining about my lot in life. </div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5346457786/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Office View, aft by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Office View, aft" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5248/5346457786_c8ffd44d1f.jpg" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">my office view, aft: The Captain getting ready to pick up our guests from their island idyll</span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i>Oyé mire—¡una isla encantadora!</i></div></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5345847381/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Office View, fore by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Office View, fore" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5086/5345847381_ae8e0e8b16.jpg" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">office view, fore: our lovely guests meeting their private 'water taxi'!</span></div></td></tr>
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</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Today's date is 01•11•11. This makes me happy (yes, I am easily amused).</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-31515513435647508812011-01-11T16:38:00.006+01:002011-01-11T21:13:27.020+01:00Charter Challenge #1 for 2011<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The preference sheet I received for our upcoming charter reads, in part:</div><ul><li>1 x lactose-free diet</li>
<li>2 x gluten-free diet</li>
<li>1 x low-salt, low fat diet</li>
<li>2 x seafood allergy (one of whom also does not eat pork)</li>
<li>2 x allergy to the <i>Capsicum</i> family (so no bell peppers or chillies of any sort)</li>
<li>1 x allergy to walnuts</li>
<li>2 x no garlic</li>
</ul><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">... out of a full group of eight.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The preference sheet is one of the charter chef's best friends. This invaluable document is the one sent out to all the clients, in which they tick off boxes and/or detail their likes and dislikes, preferred wines, spirits, mixers, preferred breakfast style, favourite flavours, any allergies etc.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">When your crew receives this document, we follow it up by emailing and/or phoning you to confirm the information—we want to make sure that we stock up the boat with as many as your favourites as possible, and that we plan our menus to accommodate each group's particular idiosyncrasies. It's all about personalising the trip for <b>you</b>—we <i>want</i> you to enjoy yourself thoroughly!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We've had a remarkably easy run lately—both our NYE group (a charming Louisiana family) and our current guests (a lovely genial group from Buenos Aires) have been incredibly easy-going omnivores. So I suppose I've been about due for more of a challenge!</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Although I've dealt with all of these specialised preferences in the past (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and perversely—or so my friends tell me—have enjoyed the fun of having to be creative with the dishes</span>) this will be the first time I deal with ALL of these <i>on the one charter</i>. This is going to be an interesting challenge for me—unless they are having chicken, every meal will have to be customised.</div></div><br />
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<div>Time to switch on the charterbot's Ingenuity and Logistics panels...</div><div><br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-89821133629032082542011-01-05T11:02:00.010+01:002011-01-16T13:15:10.859+01:00Whip It! [whip it good!]<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5314990745/" title="Whip It! by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Whip It!" height="400" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5208/5314990745_a575887041.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>When a problem comes along, you must whip it</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Before the cream sits out too long, you must whip it</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">...ah, <b>Devo</b>. To think I am old enough to remember them...</span><br />
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Rather late in the day for the culinary zeitgeist, nevertheless, contemporaneity be damned... I am having far too much fun making <i>espumas </i>and 'air' with my <a href="http://www.isinorthamerica.com/foodservice/products/gourmet-whip-plus/en/">ISI Gourmet Whip</a> (a lovely thoughtful gift from The Captain, who spotted me gazing yearningly at it in the manner of a lovesick sheep while we were in Sint Maarten).<br />
<br />
So much fun, in fact, that I've spritzed my merry way through my original supply of nitrous oxide capsules with alarming rapidity... lobster espuma, chocolate chilli velvet and mango foam are the top three so far (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">not on the same plate, mind. Well, not yet. Ha</span>). Fortunately, a kind friend brought me back another two boxes of nitrous oxide from Naco in St Thomas—thanks, Admiral!<br />
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The kitsch retro packaging makes me even happier than the possession of the actual capsules. Seriously, is this not all sorts of adorable? I am in <i>love</i> with the go-go boots, the 1960s backcombing and best of all... the girl on the package is <i>actually wearing a semblance of the amazing 1965 </i><a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/C.I.69.23">YSL 'Mondrian' shift dress!</a><br />
<br />
::giggle::<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I went speed-shopping yesterday and treated myself to a tin of lecithin granules and a packet of xanthan gum... I'm keen to </span><a href="http://www.edinformatics.com/math_science/science_of_cooking/foams1.htm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">learn how to stabilise some of my foams</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> now. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I am loving my fun ride on the late [foam] train... stay tuned for updates and tales of </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">s p l a t t e r (o, the horror).</span></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-81850935740353621642011-01-03T17:45:00.000+01:002011-01-03T17:45:17.406+01:00the charterbot in All At Sea magazineThe January edition of <i>All At Sea</i> magazine's coverage of the CYS Boat Show culinary competition includes the charterbot, who counts herself so lucky to be featured alongside the likes of the amazing <a href="http://www.cyabrochure.com/eb/436/cdb/2381/5/9/">Lisa Mead</a> (chef and artist) of motor yacht <i>Viaggio, </i>and Lori Cady on the beautiful catamaran <i>Saboré</i>.<br />
<br />
Thank you <i>so</i> much for the interview, <a href="http://www.shiptoshoreinc.com/author.html">Captain Jan</a>!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-16040556222897138642011-01-02T16:13:00.003+01:002011-01-02T20:04:22.032+01:00Hello, new year<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5314990741/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Anegada morning by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Anegada morning" height="374" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5205/5314990741_b49f73d56b.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>early morning, one of my work views</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-47780193000220466512011-01-02T16:04:00.006+01:002011-01-05T14:00:02.919+01:00A menu for the end of 2010The final meal of 2010 for our current charter guests, before we greeted the new year—<br />
<br />
:: miso-seared hamachi with a ruby grapefruit and avocado salad dressed in rice wine vinegar and chilli oil, garnished with crisped nori sheet<br />
<br />
:: prawns flash-fried dry in the wok with <i>sel gris de Guerande</i> <i>aux cristaux </i>and crushed fragrant Szechuan peppercorns, served on a swirl of butternut squash 'pasta' ribbons and julienned snap peas, drizzled with black rice wine vinegar<br />
<br />
:: lobster à trois: classic bisque served with housemade crème fraîche and white truffle oil, handmade ravioli of lobster seasoned with ginger oil and scallions topped with an <i>espuma </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"> (thanks for the whip-it capsules, Admiral!)</span> of intense lobster & coconut milk reduction infused with saffron and vanilla bean and lemongrass<br />
<br />
:: palate cleanser: shotglasses of honeydew melon, mint and jalapeño granita<br />
<br />
:: slow-roasted spice-crusted Kurobota pork belly on a sautéed mélange of <i>mougrabieh</i> (pearled couscous), celery dice, chestnuts and Spanish onion, with a tamarind balsamic glaze<br />
<br />
:: dark chocolate chilli velvet accompanied by raspberry and Cointreau sorbet and a warm ganache smear<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(I forgot to serve the espresso parfait, oh the shame... ah well, The Captain will eat it)</span><br />
<br />
I was especially happy with my lobster trio—although I do think I might dial back a little on the vanilla bean in the <i>espuma</i> reduction next time.<br />
<br />
Only a few hasty pics (and not even garnished yet!), because the timing of service was just too tight for me to photograph the finished plates. We are only a two-person crew!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5315614445/" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="NYE palate cleanser: honeydew melon, mint & jalapeño granita by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="NYE palate cleanser: honeydew melon, mint & jalapeño granita" height="227" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5090/5315614445_77f0477f4b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">palate cleanser, before garnish</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5314990747/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="NYE Szechuan Prawns by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="NYE Szechuan Prawns" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5201/5314990747_65d98eb902.jpg" width="357" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Szechuan prawns, before garnish</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-27770146927193144432011-01-01T03:31:00.008+01:002011-01-01T19:32:08.373+01:00the Old Year's Night, the New Year's EveHere in the BVI, the night of the 31st of December is called <i>Old Year's Night </i>rather than <i>New Year's Eve</i>—a charming tribute to the year just lived, instead of our unseemly hastening (before the old year has even breathed its last) to pay homage to the year unborn.<br />
<br />
When I look at this last year, laid out in its finery for the end, so many bright moments of pleasure shine. Even during some of the more difficult passages, the music that filled our heads and spoke to us was the richly sonorous composition of Philip Glass for <a href="http://www.spiritofbaraka.com/koyaanisqatsi">Geoffrey Reggio's</a> film <a href="http://www.koyaanisqatsi.org/films/k_defs.php">Koyaanisqatsi</a>. It is named for the Hopi Indian word that means, among other things, <i>life in turmoil </i>or <i>life out of balance</i>. It can also mean <i>a state of life that calls for another way of living</i>. Every so often, we played the music for each other, and its slow alien consonances and dissonances both soothed us and gave us the energy to create the changes we needed. And here we are at the year's end, content with our work and eager with our hopes.<br />
<br />
As Samuel Pepys wrote three hundred and forty-three years ago on this very same night—Old Year's Night or New Year's Eve as you please—I am thankful that I too can write,<br />
<br />
<blockquote><b>Thus ends the year, with great happiness to myself and family as to health and good condition in the world.</b></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">~ from <i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1058575877">The Diary of Samuel Pepys</a></i><a href="http://www.pepysdiary.com/"> </a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(via the good offices of </span><a href="http://www.gyford.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Phil Gyford</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-34335697534042976362010-12-31T22:07:00.001+01:002010-12-31T22:08:47.330+01:00Afternoon prep for the New Year's Eve five-course dégustation dinner<div>Between half-past two and half-past four, I have:<br />
<br />
:: made the chocolate chilli velvet, put it in the freezer<br />
<br />
:: done the espresso cream parfait, put that in the freezer too<br />
<br />
:: strained the lobster stock I've had simmering all morning, divided it into two portions, reduced one portion with lemongrass, ginger and coconut milk for my espuma, reduced the other portion and finished it off as a classic bisque (hello wine, hello roux, hello crème fraîche, hello love...)<br />
<br />
:: finished and put away (for cooking off later) 20 handmade ravioli filled with lobster head meat seasoned with ginger and shallots<br />
<br />
:: whisked up the marinade for the hamachi fillet (shiro miso, rice wine, soy, hint of tahini, pickled ginger juice)<br />
<br />
:: popped the pork belly in the oven (it has been curing in a dry marinade of garlic, coriander seed, cumin seed, sage, orange zest, sea salt and black pepper)<br />
<br />
:: diced the butternut squash, chestnuts and celery to accompany the pork<br />
<br />
:: finished off the tamarind balsamic glaze for the pork<br />
<br />
:: washed up and cleaned the galley ready for the next round of prep<br />
<br />
<br />
Still to do:<br />
<br />
:: portion out the hamachi fillet<br />
<br />
:: do the ruby grapefruit and mint salad for the hamachi<br />
<br />
:: cook off the mougrabieh<br />
<br />
:: defrost the prawns (shell-on)<br />
<br />
:: make some sort of garnish for the dessert<br />
<br />
<br />
I have been <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">b u s y</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">!</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-81542403454837307732010-12-28T11:18:00.024+01:002010-12-28T16:35:24.893+01:00A Caribbean YuletideDecember brought us a mixed blessing (is there any other sort?) this year. Although we missed out on a Christmas charter because the boat owner did not choose to truncate his holiday dates, on the other hand we had the rare pleasure of sharing the holiday with just each other. For frantically busy crew (we did 27 weeks of charter last season), even a small breather like this is a gift in itself.<br />
<br />
We worked steadily up to the afternoon of Christmas Eve, then cast off the mooring lines at base and treated ourselves to a little time off from sunset of Christmas Eve to the morning of Boxing Day. The wind-sculpted cliff faces of the south side of Norman Island led us to secluded and beautiful little Money Bay. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5295975965/" title="Christmas anchorage by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Christmas anchorage" height="332" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5088/5295975965_d03cbbeee6.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
The Captain amused himself with putting up fairy lights in the cockpit and helping me deck out the salon with shiny ornaments, and I amused myself with the other rare pleasure of cooking for... just two. Well, just two people and the magnum of Champagne from our boat show spoils. We tossed some fresh pomegranate seeds into the non-vintage bubbly—so festive: tiny ruby baubles fizzing up with the bubbles.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5295973041/" title="Holiday Cheer magnum by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Holiday Cheer magnum" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5244/5295973041_b4dba3eafb.jpg" width="227" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5296568964/" title="Holiday Bubbly 1 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Holiday Bubbly 1" height="400" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5250/5296568964_577e4228a1.jpg" width="265" /></a><br />
<br />
We had a trio of salmon for dinner on Christmas Eve. First, a plate with sashimi nouvelle-Japonaise style—with a mixture of chilli infused sesame oil, ponzu and rice wine vinegar heated to almost boiling and poured quickly over the translucent rosy slices. Then a tiny timbale of salmon tartare—fine dice of raw salmon and raw fennel tossed with salt-cured capers, a little Dijon mustard, a drop of hazelnut oil, a squitter of lemon. The contrast between the unctuous salmon dice and the crisp fennel was very pleasing to us. We followed that with one of The Captain's favourites of my menu on charter—lightly grilled salmon fillet served on a jewelled wild rice mix, accompanied by fennel confit and a sauce more-or-less-Maltaise (I had to use a Valencia orange, as blood oranges are no longer to be had, alas).<br />
<br />
Christmas lunch was as pictured. This time, we had a trio of hamachi. We began with a little tower of hamachi ceviche and avocado flavoured with mirin, fresh ginger and ponzu; then I smeared part of the hamachi fillet on both sides with the shiro-miso (white miso paste) and seared it in a very hot pan. The mild nutty sweetness of the fine film of miso was just right to enhance the deliciously buttery texture and subtle flavour of the seared hamachi. I sprinkled on some sesame seeds to provide texture and to boost the nuttiness; and perched a flame-scorched piece of savoury nori for its intense flavour of the sea. To finish, we ate the remainder of the hamachi as simple sashimi with avocado slices, and some more ponzu and pickled ginger by way of accompaniment. The firm <i>al dente</i> bite of the raw fish contrasts nicely with the creamy avocado slices; and the crisp pickled ginger was just the right thing to 'cut' the unctuous combination.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5296564814/" title="hamachi trio : stack by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="hamachi trio : stack" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5043/5296564814_5c13990056.jpg" width="357" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5295969401/" title="hamachi trio : seared fillet by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="hamachi trio : seared fillet" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5201/5295969401_be3b1ebc04.jpg" width="357" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5296563346/" title="hamachi trio : fillet + sashimi by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="hamachi trio : fillet + sashimi" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5164/5296563346_b1e3500e0e.jpg" width="357" /></a><br />
<br />
If I were on charter, I would have served this with a shot glass of ruby grapefruit and Campari salad by way of palate-cleanser, and some form of starch as ballast. Just for us though, it was pure indulgent pleasure to enjoy the various flavours and textures of the fish on its own.<br />
<br />
Supper later that evening was mere grazing at a big wodge of Pont L'Évêque—the pungent feet-y exterior so different from the mellow silkiness within; and squares of rich, moist triple-ginger Christmas pudding served hot and doused with black rum sauce. We went to bed sipping at glasses glowing red with spiced mulled wine whose fragrance while simmering had filled the boat with festive perfume: cinnamon stick and cloves and nutmeg, parings of lemon and orange peel, fresh ginger, crushed cardamom and allspice berries. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5295971893/" title="The Captain's cheese 2 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="The Captain's cheese 2" height="400" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5170/5295971893_1dcf2f68a9.jpg" width="285" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5295972363/" title="The Captain's cheese 1 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="The Captain's cheese 1" height="400" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5042/5295972363_b0a3009c4b.jpg" width="285" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5295971311/" title="Yuletide mulled wine 1 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Yuletide mulled wine 1" height="400" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5045/5295971311_0d082bc732.jpg" width="285" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
We also had the pleasure of greeting friends for the holidays—the hard-working and creative Tara and Sasha, of the <a href="http://sailtrue.blogspot.com/">Sail True</a> blog ( a wonderful insiders' account of life as dedicated charter crew) as they shared the anchorage with us for the afternoon while on-charter with their boat owner.<br />
<br />
We loved our Caribbean Yuletide celebration—its memories will sustain us for months to come.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5295974963/" title="Christmas Eve sunset by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Christmas Eve sunset" height="300" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5163/5295974963_6c070c6186.jpg" width="500" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-53590282524100034392010-12-27T13:24:00.000+01:002010-12-27T13:24:22.356+01:00Happy Holidays!<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5296568582/" title="Holiday Bubbly 2 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5089/5296568582_beca10251e.jpg" width="357" height="500" alt="Holiday Bubbly 2" /></a><br />
<br />
We're raising our glasses to life and love and adventure! Wishing everyone the same...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-50688212480643832552010-12-21T12:10:00.007+01:002010-12-21T17:27:34.444+01:00Inconstant Moon<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"<i>O swear not by the moon,</i> <i>th'inconstant moon</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>That monthly changes in her circled orb..."</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">~ Wm Shakespeare</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5280058440/" title="lunar shortbread bikkies by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="lunar shortbread bikkies" height="357" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5242/5280058440_94f6579e1a.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">baked for the eclipse party: lemon rosemary coconut shortbreads</span><br />
<br />
This time, the inconstancy was in the fitfully cloudy sky—not the maligned moon, who held still as the shadow of the Earth slid a ruddy veil across her face.<br />
<br />
A crisp wind blew across Trellis Bay, swinging the boat around this way and that, as we lay back on the trampolines and watched the slow dimming of the moon into darkness; then marvelled at the faint smudged glow as she re-emerged from the shadow of a hundred revolving sunrises and sunsets.<br />
<br />
Orion and Canis Major, red Aldebaran and the bright twins Castor and Pollux pointed to her when the cloud cover grew too thick; when the darkness fell, we strained our eyes hoping to see some of the Ursid meteor shower opposite. In the background, the Last Resort's generator rumbled discontentedly; from the open galley hatch, the rich brown smells of freshly-made coffee and molten hot chocolate wafted towards us.<br />
<br />
O, it was a night of wonders!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5280058432/" title="lunar eclipse night 2 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="lunar eclipse night 2" height="200" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5046/5280058432_7d24148d38.jpg" width="132" /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5280058438/" title="lunar eclipse night 1 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="lunar eclipse night 1" height="200" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5166/5280058438_9812b74207.jpg" width="142" /></a><br />
<br />
Click to see some truly beautiful photos from around the world on the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/imthere/">NASAJPL Flickr community!</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-83465676673701284632010-12-20T11:48:00.006+01:002011-01-11T19:03:30.670+01:00The Captain's pick: salade de chèvre chaud<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5277017908/" title="croustillant de chèvre 1 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="croustillant de chèvre 1" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5167/5277017908_8a046003ed.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
The Captain adores this classic salad of goat cheese, of which there are literally <i>dozens</i> of variants—and he has taken it upon himself to sample them <i>all</i>, plate by plate and menu by menu, every time we are in the French Antilles. Well, someone has to do it...<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>It's all about the delicious contrasts—the hot creaminess of the goat cheese and the cool crispness of the salad leaves; the tangy savour enhanced by the hint of honey in the dressing.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It was time to treat my guests to a little something extra the other night, and so I introduced their main course with a small plate, just enough to whet their appetites—too large for an <i>amuse-bouche,</i> but certainly smaller than a standard appetiser. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I chose to serve a riff on the classic <i>salade de chèvre chaud</i>: instead of presenting the cheese on crisp, garlicky rounds of toast, I cut the fresh mild goats cheese into fingers and wrapped each in a sheet of delicate Tunisian <i>brik</i> pastry and scattered each with poppy seeds. Then I slid them into a hot oven to warm the goats cheese into a melting creaminess within the light golden shell. I love <i>brik</i> for its flexible translucent sheets, more easily workable than filo and not needing to be layered with an additional coat of butter or olive oil.</div><div><br />
</div><div>For the dressing, I bruised a large sprig of fresh rosemary until the pine-y aromatics rose to my nose, then chopped it fine and tossed it into a beaker of golden honey. I warmed this gently, and left it to infuse. To layer the rosemary flavour, I repeated this process with some good green extra-virgin olive oil. Then I whisked a dab of Dijon mustard, the rosemary-infused honey and the rosemary-infused olive oil in a bowl till they emulsified nicely. I added a little Spanish sherry vinegar—<i>vinagre de Jeréz</i>—drop by drop until the flavours balanced.</div><div><br />
</div><div>For the salad leaves I chose tender baby spinach leaves to contrast with the slightly bitter frill of <i>frisée </i>(curly endive), a few finely-sliced curls of baby celery and a couple of shavings of fresh red beetroot for sweetness and crunch.<br />
<br />
</div><div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5277012352/" title="croustillant de chèvre 2 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="croustillant de chèvre 2" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5288/5277012352_d03d792406.jpg" width="357" /></a><br />
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</div><div>Now I had all my contrasts: the hot cheese, the crisp pastry, the fresh salad, the fragrant and lightly honeyed dressing. The verdict? Well, the plates came back clean (in one case, wiped enthusiastically with a licked finger), and The Captain, having eaten his separately-plated Captain's Tithe, pronounced himself well pleased. </div><div><br />
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</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-24558524613875797322010-12-19T14:18:00.009+01:002010-12-19T16:02:31.090+01:00A red moon for the holidaysThis year, the winter solstice brings us a wondrous gift: a total <a href="http://www.nasa.gov/topics/solarsystem/features/eclipse/dec21-eclipse.html">lunar eclipse</a>!<br />
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Click here to check the <a href="http://www.mreclipse.com/LEdata/TLE2010Dec21/TLE2010Dec21.html#Visibility">marvellous Mr Eclipse</a> for detailed viewing times and locations, or here for <a href="http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2010/17dec_solsticeeclipse/">more information</a>; and click here for a fun <a href="http://www.nasa.gov/topics/solarsystem/features/watchtheskies/index.html">list of NASA activities.</a><br />
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Could there be anything better worth staying up for on the shortest day of the year? We'll be serving hot chocolate, tea, little shot glasses of glowing liqueurs and a tray of homemade cookies (moon shaped, of course) on our boat for the viewing!<br />
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<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The Moon's North Wind's cooky.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">He bites it, day by day,</span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Until there's but a rim of scraps</span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">That crumbles all away. </span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The South Wind is a baker.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">He kneads clouds in his den.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">And bakes a crisp new moon that...</span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">greedy... North Wind... eats again!</span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">~ </span><a href="http://jmww.150m.com/Lindsay.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Vachel Lindsay</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky (What The Little Girl Said)</span></i></blockquote><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-10904221079652149082010-12-17T16:56:00.003+01:002010-12-17T20:58:14.101+01:00Perks of the job: a dolphin at the Rhone<div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
The descent into cloudy blue. The controlled fall punctuated by the slow hiss of inhalation, the bubbled uprush of exhalation. The softly enveloping water contrasts with each long dry swallow of bottled air. I tilt my head to the side and feel the <i>pop!</i> of relief as the pressure in my inner ear equalises with the ambient water pressure. </div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I signal <i>OK</i> to The Captain, and glide behind our guest, hovering unobtrusively a little above her, at the ready in case she panics or drifts upwards while he puts her through her refresher exercises. We’ve already done her weight check at the surface and she looks fairly comfortable, albeit still a little restless as she grows accustomed to being back in the water. Mask fill and clear. Regulator out. Regulator retrieval. Pleased, I see her stream of bubbles settling down as she relaxes into her breathing rhythm. All goes smoothly, and we leave the dim slant of the descent line, finning towards the wreck. </div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The wreck of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RMS_Rhone">RMS Rhone</a> is quite deservedly one of the best-known dives in the Virgin Islands. Lying in no more than twenty-four metres of water, it is shallow enough to explore at length; and open enough for a brief<span style="font: normal normal normal 10px/normal Verdana;">—no more than a quick fin-stroke or two—</span>penetration. My personal favourite spot on the dive happens to be at the long upended deck supports that I call, privately, the Roman pillars. Silhouetted dramatically against the tall shafts of light filtering into the water, they rise from the sand like the columnar ruins of a temple. </div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Were I to be left to myself, I would be content to hover quietly there for the duration of the dive, watching the play of light and the ever-changing traffic of sea life. A shadow crossing the light as a turtle glides overhead. The intent, wide-eyed countenance of a solitary porcupine fish, its odd wedge-shaped body surprisingly large when seen up close. The peculiarly open-mouthed expression of a yellowtail snapper submitting itself to cleaning station attentions, the tiny cleaner fish darting and nibbling. Surreal elongated trumpetfish, or here and there a thick frenetic swirl of feeders.</div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I am at the pillars, communing happily with a pair of absolutely enormous angelfish, as blank-faced as pagan gods, when I see a movement out of the corner of my eye. My normally serene captain is gesticulating in the most uncharacteristic manner. Finning the short distance to them, I turn my head. </div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">It is a dolphin. </div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">It is a dolphin, not three metres away from us. Simultaneously our three streams of bubbles halt for an instant, our breath arrested as the beautiful pewter-grey creature swims alongside us before swerving away past the jutting anchor relic.</div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Such joyous experiences as these are the perks of the job. </div><div style="color: grey; font: 11.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="color: grey; font: 9.0px Verdana; line-height: 17.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><a href="http://www.bareboatsbvi.com/salt_island.html">Salt Island</a> nearby, with its spiky wild scrub, salt pond and itinerant goatlets feeding plaintively on the wild sage bushes, provides a pleasant hiking spot for guests who do not dive—a cannily packed picnic does not go amiss. Whenever we are here, I am obliged to brush from my greedy mind certain nebulous longings involving very young sage-fed goats... a tender haunch to roast in the oven with slivers of garlic and a good rub with olive oil and salt, or chunks skewered on rosemary twigs and charring deliciously on the barbeque, for instance. Or a pot on the stove, simmering with red wine and bay leaf and a cinnamon stick. Or better still, perhaps, the entire kid laid gently on a bed of wet sage branches, and buried in a fire pit in the sand, to emerge after long hours of baking transformed into a sweetly smoky and herb-scented marvel... I say nothing aloud, of course, not wishing to either alarm or repulse any of our less gluttonous and more sensitive guests; but a girl can dream.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-43466768159923850512010-12-14T17:00:00.052+01:002010-12-17T21:12:14.323+01:00Sculpted with the hands: manaqish bi za'atar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5260525415/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="manakish by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="manakish" height="185" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5282/5260525415_e2aa971cb4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">The Arabic word for bread, <i>aish</i>, is also the word for <i>life</i>; and we say in English, <i>Bread is the staff of life</i>. It is at once the simplest and most basic sustenance, as well as one of the simplest but most evocative of pleasures—there's no mistaking the aroma of freshly-baked bread, the comforting savour as you bite into a piece still warm from the oven.</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manakish">Manaqish</a> is named according to its method: the surface of the dough is pressed with the fingers, creating a pattern of little wells for the toppings. It is a wonderfully easy bread to make and serve on charter—it needs only an hour's rise, so its journey from nothing more than a mound of flour to puffy golden disks fragrant with herbs and good olive oil and flakes of sea salt is brief.</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">When I first tasted it, I was a starry-eyed young traveller wandering the old city of Damascus, and it came accompanied by deliciously tangy <i>labne </i>(a drained yoghurt cheese) and ripe tomatoes... a breakfast I have relished in memory time and again, and have tried to recreate in floury-handed fact many times since.</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I've since learnt, via the wonderful food blog of <a href="http://thefoodblog.com.au/2009/12/manakish-lebanons-favourite-breakfast.html">Fouad</a>, that it is also a favourite breakfast in Lebanon—his evocatively written entry is a must-read.</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I've adapted and modified <a href="http://arabic-food.blogspot.com/2008/12/manakish-recipe.html">this recipe</a> to make it as charter-friendly as possible for a busy boat chef; and I've also rung certain non-traditional variations with the toppings, depending on my guests' preferences. But never do I fail to tell its story, and to serve at least one in the way I had it first and love it best: topped simply with olive oil and <a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/za-atar">za'atar</a>, that storied mix of sesame seeds and tart sumac and herbs—thyme, oregano or what was called hyssop—that links us, with each savoury bite, to the daily life of people of other landscapes in these essential forms:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Wheat. Olives. Wild herbs. Water. Salt.<br />
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<div><div style="color: grey; font-family: Helvetica; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Verdana; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">web references</span></b></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://thefoodblog.com.au/">http://thefoodblog.com.au</a></span></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://arabic-food.blogspot.com/">http://arabic-food.blogspot.com</a></span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Manakish | Manaqish | Manakeesh</span></span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div><div style="color: grey; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Verdana; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">modified for the charter chef</span></span></i></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">serves an 8-pax boat for breakfast, plus the usual charter accompaniments</span></span></span></i></div></div></div><div style="color: grey; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Verdana; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div></div></div><div style="color: grey; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Verdana; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">For the sponge: whisk together 2 tablespoons of plain flour, 2 teaspoons sugar and one packet of dried yeast. Sprinkle on top of half a cup of water (at warm blood temperature), stir gently, and leave ten minutes until it forms a creamy and sweetly beer-scented foam.</span></span></div></div></div><div style="color: grey; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Verdana; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div></div></div><div style="color: grey; font-family: Helvetica; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Verdana; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">For the dough: combine 2 cups of whole wheat flour and 1 cup of plain flour in a large bowl. Make a well in the centre, and add the sponge mixture. Begin to stir, adding up to another 1/2 cup to 2/3 cup of warm water as necessary. The dough should be a little wetter and stickier than a pizza dough.</span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Knead firmly for about ten minutes, or until the dough feels silky and elastic, with a lively 'spring'. Cover and leave in a warm spot to rise for about an hour. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Portion the dough out into fist-sized balls (I have a small hand), and press or roll flat. Press your fingertips into the surface of each to form an overall pattern. Brush generously with a quality, flavourful extra virgin olive oil, and sprinkle with za'atar.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Bake for 10 to 12 minutes in a hot oven (200º C for me on our boat), or until the bottoms are crisp, and the tops are slightly puffed and golden. The rising aroma will let you know when they are ready! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Serve with bowls of chopped ripe tomato, cucumbers and chopped fresh mint. Tell the story.</span><br />
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</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5261698904/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="manaqish | knead by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="manaqish | knead" height="141" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5045/5261698904_93c7a1566f.jpg" width="200" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: grey;"></span></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5261698910/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="manakish | dough by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="manakish | dough" height="142" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5162/5261698910_eee874a686.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5261698914/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="manaqish | press by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="manaqish | press" height="142" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5001/5261698914_5bab7cdb68.jpg" width="200" /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5261698916/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="manaqish | oliveoil by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="manaqish | oliveoil" height="142" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5288/5261698916_25439e2102.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5261698924/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="manaqish | zaatar by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="manaqish | zaatar" height="142" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5123/5261698924_9543b1f8c3.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5261764140/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="manaqish | baked by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="manaqish | baked" height="142" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5010/5261764140_bf4d646fba.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">variations</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I may sometimes top a few manakish with one or a combination of: chunks of fetta cheese, or slices of water-packed bocconcini, or roasted butternut squash and a handful of rocket, or cherry tomatoes or caramelised sweet golden shallots and lumps of chèvre... etc</span></span></i></div></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5261698928/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="manakish | breakfast by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="manakish | breakfast" height="400" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5043/5261698928_46ca734bfe.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>plain manakish + manakish with molten fresh mozzarella</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5261698924/" title="manaqish | zaatar by charterbot, on Flickr"></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-59397015838846003832010-12-12T13:40:00.010+01:002011-01-28T21:05:22.430+01:00Perks of the job: sunrise on Anegada<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5253956788/" title="Anegada Sunrise by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="Anegada Sunrise " height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5010/5253956788_1468a23f82.jpg" width="334" /></a><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">early-morning view from the deck, as I was polishing the stainless</span></i><br />
<br />
The Captain and I have just completed yet another <i>same-day</i> turnaround—an incredibly tight logistical exercise in an industry where twenty-four hour turnarounds (which seem a great luxury now to us in comparison!) are the minimum standard.<br />
<br />
During the hard-driven hours of intensely focused work, it always helps to remember the many small quotidian pleasures of the job. One of the things that kept us cheerful amidst the flurry of scrubbing and the headaches of no-show deliveries and chasing tasks was our memory of the sunrise we were lucky enough to witness a few days ago while anchor'd off the island of Anegada—the shimmering Impressionist pastels of that morning, the luminous silence on the living water.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760186905382000862.post-55718107676178129352010-12-09T16:00:00.005+01:002010-12-20T11:49:07.840+01:00Dry-roasted short ribs in a pepper'd spice crust<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5246546834/" title="pepper spiced short ribs 1 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="pepper spiced short ribs 1" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5168/5246546834_a0d023c16d.jpg" width="334" /></a><br />
<br />
Our kind friends Wanda and James came to our rescue one evening, when we had spent many a long day immersed in cleaning and scrubbing and polishing the boat for the trade show. Like benevolent genii from a fairytale, they whisked us away to their beautiful hilltop aerie, then fed us and watered us and returned us to the boat before we even knew quite how it all came about.<br />
<br />
We sat on their patio with the blue evening sky above us, admiring the long golden oblongs of light cast by their open French doors, sipping at glasses of wine while their cat twined itself around our ankles in a furry sinuous welcome. Later, plates of richly savoury food appeared in front of us. Their company and thoughtfulness fed more in us than simply hunger, and we returned to our work the next day with stout hearts and good cheer.<br />
<br />
One of the dishes from that night was a sublimely tender pile of ribs, which James had coated in a dry spice rub and slow-roasted for hours.<br />
<br />
I usually braise my ribs in some kind or other of spiced and seasoned wine before finishing them off to char them, and that's what I plated out for my charter guests' main course; but I wanted to try out this dry-roasted method too, so I amused myself with a little experimental starter for them.<br />
<br />
I crushed a generous handful of colourful mixed peppercorns—black and pink, green and mild white—in the mortar and pestle, along with some coriander seeds and cumin seeds for savour. A couple of fine fat cloves of garlic pounded to a creamy paste with plenty of sea salt, and a little chopped thyme, to bind it all together. Pungent and floral and spicy, this paste was rubbed generously into the flesh of a couple of pounds of beef short ribs, which I slid into the top shelf of the oven while a pan of my braised ribs simmered away below.<br />
<br />
Two and a half hours later, I took out the tray. The fat had rendered off, and the spice-crusted meat lay in tender fragments on the bones.<br />
<br />
I chose to serve this small 'taste' on cucumber slices for their cool juicy contrast, layered some translucent shavings of our house-made pickled cucumber, and finally topped the stack with fine-sliced red radish to play on the mélange of pepper flavour. This is also my nod to the Roman gourmand <a href="http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Apicius/home.html">Apicius</a>, for whom the piquant duo of <a href="http://www.peppertrail.com/php/displayContent.php3?link_id=98&link_id_tmp=97&parent_link=10">pepper</a> (a beloved spice of the ancient world) and vinegar-tart pickle would have been comfortingly familiar.<br />
<br />
This pleased me enough to make me think about quantifying the proportions into a proper recipe to post at a later date. I may even have the cheek to try serving this one night to Wanda and James the next time we are off-charter, by way of return of hospitality...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/charterbot/5246547384/" title="pepper spiced short ribs 2 by charterbot, on Flickr"><img alt="pepper spiced short ribs 2" height="500" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5170/5246547384_a3dea334f8.jpg" width="334" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href='http://thecharterbot.blogspot.com/'>text and images copyright © 2010 charterbot
all rights reserved</a></div>charterbothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13222174677757752473noreply@blogger.com0