Christmas dinner onboard BSL

22 12 2011

Christmas dinner. Turkeys will be basted and hams will be glazed, and we will be boiling up some water. I love cooking Christmas dinner, and have taken great pleasure the last two christmases at home in choosing an organic snow goose from our local organic farm near Lymington, and creating a feast. I’m not a fan of the bog standard turkey, sprouts and other trimmings that is the staple meal of a UK christmas. That can be had at any time of the year.

This year though, options are somewhat limited. Our food program is Ross’ responsibility. Within a week of starting from Palma it descended into chaos. The general idea was that there would be a bag of food for 5 days, that included all the bits and pieces needed for that 5 days – paper towel, sugar, coffee etc, and you start at the top and work your way to the bottom, and just eat what comes up next which should be fine with some planning – you will not always get your favourite meal but you will get variety. Finish this bag, open a new one. This is how it normally works, and works very well. In our case though, something went wrong. We now have all the coffee and sugar stowed in one part of the boat, all the condiments in a plastic bin that also contains WD40, watermaker pickling agent, winch spares and spare electrical tape to name a few random items. The paper towels were stored in the bow until we lost a few to water, so are now all wedged against the deck head above the nav station. And the contents of 1 week of food is dumped on the leeward bunk, so you can go and make your selection, much like your average buffet. Kind of works, but the last week of any leg is painful as the only meals left are the ones we don’t like.

Another Ross-ism today. We both have thermal beanies/caps with ear flaps, waterproof and fleece lined. Bloody great as they work really well with the dry tops. Ross got up this morning and got dressed and couldn’t find his. Cursing and swearing and bashing and crashing for 3 hours looking for the bloody thing. Wanted to take mine. Wanted me to get out of my bunk and help him look. I could see the near accusation in his eyes that I had taken it. My turn to get up, Ross to go to his bunk. He takes off his dry top and hey presto there is the hat, on a piece of string around his neck under the dry top.

If I had 50 days, and 50 chocolates, I would have one per day. Ross would sit down and eat the lot, complain about feeling sick then pester me for the next 50 days for a chocolate because I have lots left, and come up with a million reasons why I should give him half of them.

I guess all this is good training for when my son gets to the age of about 6.