Roast Dinner at sea

by Esme Robinson

Sailing from one land to anther is a romantic notion that is associated with blue skies, gentle winds and dolphins playing on the bow.  You leave one world and arrive into another having feasted on fresh tuna sashimi and Wahu fish and chips. It is a terrific adventure that can also be terrifying. When the winds pick up and the waves are aggressive, the experience becomes altogether nauseating, especially when you are down in the galley being thrown around like a raw potato in a blunt blender.

Sailing from the Galapagos to Tahiti in a 90ft sailing boat took about 19 days. We were sailing ‘down wind’ and cruising over gentle pacific rolling waves, occasionally being hit by flying fish. All the hatches were open so fresh warm air was flowing through the boat and all 6 crew were relaxed and happy. I had so much fresh fish in the freezer I had to ban the boys from fishing for a couple of days, as there was no more room! We had a huge branch of bananas strapped onto the mast that were ripening quickly. Banana smoothies and banana cake were on the menu everyday. We were very gently and contentedly being blown all the way to French Polynesia.

On one particular day half way through the trip I decided to cook a roast chicken dinner for the crew, a simple but favorite dish. The chicken was defrosted and marinating in the preserved lemons I had made previously.  All of a sudden, a wave hit the boat and about half a bucket worth of water came through the galley hatch above, and drenched the chicken and me.  The hatches were instantly shut and I mopped up the water. The Captain said the wind had shifted and we were coming into a bit of a storm. I looked at the chicken, cleaned it up and decided it definitely didn’t need any more salt!

After some very jerky motions I went up on deck to see what was going on. The main sail had been brought right in and we were now heading up wind and the skies were threatening ahead.  It was 2 hours to dinnertime and I had to cook the chicken.

The galley was far forward in the boat, which means you really feel the waves. I sprinkled the chicken with herbs and stuffed it with the remaining lemon and garlic and put it straight into the oven.  Ovens on sailing boats are on ‘gimbles’.  As the boat moves the oven is free to move too so you always have a flat surface (supposedly). On the stovetop you also have metal rods that hold the pans in place. I found the potatoes and started to chop them, only to notice that we were starting to lean more to the starboard side. The chopped potatoes starting to roll away from me and as I went to catch them, the knife then rolled towards me too, narrowly missing my hand! Clearly now everything had to be wedged into a corner with the horrid non-skid plastic to keep in one place. I would normally blanche the potatoes before roasting them, but today was a day to avoid large pots of boiling water! I also prepped some carrot wedges to be roasted and went back on deck to see what was going on.

On deck the boys were in their foul weather gear and preparing themselves for the worst. It was now quite cold outside and the usual stars could not be seen. When the boat starts slamming into the waves, the whole boat shudders, as do you.  The grey tanks which hold all the boats dirty water start to shake around and a nasty smell of sewage starts to permeate through the boat. I had also noticed that there was a slight smell of diesel wafting through the boat and asked the first mate if he had any idea what this could be. He said one of the tanks up in the forward storage must have lost its lid in all the movement. He couldn’t do anything about it now because if a wave hit the boat we would take on water.

I went back down below to the hot smelly interior to continue the dinner with a sense of foreboding. The chicken was starting to smell so I put the potatoes in the oven too. The boat was really slamming now and we were healed over quite dramatically. The mixture of sewage, diesel and roast chicken with the stuffy hot interior and jerky motion was starting to make my stomach turn. The easiest option for vegetables at this point was frozen peas. Opening the freezer was a slight issue because at the angle we were at, gravity was going to try and hurl the contents out. I opened it cautiously, trying to use my hands and body to stop all the fish falling out.  Boom! We hit a massive wave, I was thrown back and all the frozen fish fell out. The galley floor is protected with clear plastic for everyday wear and tear. As I scrambled back up the floor, which was now at a 40-degree uphill angle, I slid back down again as the plastic had become wet. Ten minutes and a lot of swearing later everything was back in the freezer and the peas were found. By this time, nausea had taken over and I ran up on deck to get fresh air.

Up on deck it was raining heavily, I was asked if I was OK as very pale. I replied ‘”I think I am going to be sick!” The first mate took me to the down wind side of the boat and held onto the back of my shorts whilst I crouched down and vomited. This is always such a horrible experience looking into the dark endless sea getting soaked by seawater and rain. Now I was shivering, but felt slightly better.

10 minutes later and back in the galley the peas were cooked and drained. The chicken was cooked and the vegetables were almost finished. I took the chicken out of the oven and rested it on the stovetop wedged in-between the metal rods so it could not move.  Boom! We hit an even bigger wave and the roasted chicken flew out of the baking tray and landed behind the oven. This would never normally happen, but because we were healing over so much the oven was at a serious angle, which made a perfect gap for the chicken to hide in. All the chicken juices started to pour underneath the oven and down onto the plastic floor! Now this was really impossible and the language coming out of my mouth was getting worse.  I climbed up next to the oven with a wooden spoon as my weapon on choice. I put my arm behind the very hot oven fishing for the chicken whilst holding onto a cupboard so I didn’t fall. At this point I really was swearing and the first mate walked in, wondering when dinner was going to be ready! Between us, we managed to rescue the escaped chicken and I once again cleared up the mess.

Everything was now ready. The salty chicken was beaten up but cooked to perfection, the roasted potatoes were not crispy but ok, the carrots were caramelized perfection and the baby garden peas were clearly lovingly prepared! No gravy and definitely no desert!! Mind you by the time all the crew had come downstairs and smelt the sewage and diesel, no one really wanted to eat!