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When we first left Rhode Island for extended cruising aboard Simple Life, our Island Packet 37, landlubber friends assumed we’d be docking and dining nightly. When we told them we rarely stayed at marinas and mostly anchored out, the wide-eyed response was: But how do you eat? 

This question always made my husband, Joe, and me chuckle. We love good food. We especially love seafood, and I’ve always loved to cook. Cruising and living aboard have only expanded my repertoire. 

When the weather changes in late August, we prepare for our seasonal departure from Narragansett Bay and a monthslong cruise down the Eastern Seaboard to the Bahamas. The goal always is to arrive in northern Florida by November 1, then cross to the Bahamas from South Florida or the Keys. 

As we cruise, we adjust our diet, enjoying crab cakes in Maryland, shrimp in the Carolinas, and the local catch in Florida or the Bahamas. In our Rhode Island home waters, we’ve snagged flounder from the dinghy, foraged for clams ashore, and raked for quahogs (the local name for large, hard-shell clams) in waist-deep water. 

Luckily, our appetite for ­seafood is constantly satisfied. Joe has become a seasoned cruiser and a skilled fisherman. In Abaco, the Bahamas, he taught himself to spear lobsters using a mask, snorkel and Hawaiian sling. On passages under sail, he often snags mahimahi or tuna from a trolling line. Unfailingly, seas are lumpy whenever we catch a fish; why do they never seem to bite when conditions are benign? And whenever a fish is on the line, a brief kerfuffle ensues: Joe wrestles the fish to bring it aboard while I stand at the helm, holding a steady course through the waves and not knocking him overboard. Joe also morphs into a sailing Howard Cosell, excitedly shouting the play-by-play: “It faked left! Now it’s trying to tangle itself between the rudderpost and keel!”

One year, we had a most unexpected catch before even leaving Rhode Island. We were loading the dinghy after a provisioning run when something odd on the dock caught my eye. A closer look revealed masses of large blue crabs attached to every piling. This was a rare sight because blue crabs don’t usually gather in such abundance in Narragansett Bay. 

Quickly, we headed out to Simple Life, offloaded the provisions, grabbed some frozen chicken necks and string I’d saved just for this purpose, and zoomed back to the dock. The tide was still favorable and low. We caught at least 11 of the blue crabs, stopping only when our bucket was filled. We were well under the legal limit, but there was no reason to harvest more than we needed.

We headed back to the boat, spent the next few hours stowing provisions and getting the boat ready to go, and started to think about dinner. Fresh crab was definitely on the menu. 

While living ashore, I’d faithfully followed a crab-cake recipe that was too complex for boat life, with ingredients that could be found only in gourmet markets. Once we moved aboard, I came up with my own boat-friendly version. It has multiple ingredients, but all of them can be found in local supermarkets, including those we use for provisioning. 

The night of our blue crab harvest, I got to work in the galley so we could savor our reward. The crab cakes, made with crabmeat just a few hours out of the sea, were crispy on the outside, and delightfully moist and flavorful inside. 

As we ate and drank in the beauty of our waterfront view, I thought of those landlubber friends who imagined us ­miserably spooning beans from a can, and I burst out laughing. This was living the simple life. If they only knew.

What’s Cooking?

Crisp and Tasty Crab Cakes (makes 6 crab cakes)

• 1 lb. fresh lump crabmeat (or good-quality canned)
• ½ jalapeño or serrano pepper (optional)
• ¼ cup mayonnaise (Duke’s, if possible)
• 1 tsp. dry mustard
• 2 scallions, thinly sliced
• 1 large egg, lightly beaten
• 1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
• 2 tsp. fresh lemon juice (plus lemons for garnish)
• 1½ tsp. Old Bay seasoning*  
• 1¼ cup panko or plain breadcrumbs
• 1 Tbsp. chives, thinly sliced
• ¼ tsp. kosher salt
• 1⁄8  tsp. freshly ground black pepper
• 4 Tbsp. vegetable oil (not olive oil)
• Bibb lettuce, parsley for garnish (optional)

* Or substitute ¾ tsp. each celery salt and paprika, and a pinch of cayenne

Pick over the lump crabmeat to remove bits of shell or cartilage. Set aside. 

Seed jalapeño or serrano pepper, and chop finely. Set aside. 

Combine the next seven ingredients in a medium bowl and add chopped peppers. Whisk well. Add crabmeat and fold to blend. Stir in ¾ cup panko or breadcrumbs, and chives, salt and pepper. 

Carefully divide mixture into 6 equal portions (it might be slightly wet). Form each portion into a 1-inch-thick patty. Plate and refrigerate for at least 10 minutes, preferably up to 1 hour. 

Heat oil in a large skillet (I always use cast-iron) over medium heat. Spread remaining ½ cup panko or breadcrumbs on a plate and lightly coat crab cakes. 

Fry until golden brown and crisp, 3 to 4 minutes per side. 

To serve, arrange crab cakes atop bibb lettuce, or garnish with parsley. Serve with plenty of lemon wedges, and bottled or homemade remoulade or tartar sauce.

Prep time: 1 HOUR, 45 MINUTES, INCLUDING CHILLING
Difficulty: MEDIUM
Can be made: AT ANCHOR

Cook’s Note: For a quickie remoulade, combine ½ cup mayonnaise, 1 Tbsp. lemon juice, 1½ tsp. sweet pickle relish (or chopped sweet or dill pickle), 1 tsp. minced capers and ½ tsp. Dijon or dry mustard. Whisk all ingredients in a small bowl, and set aside for serving. 

Do you have a favorite boat recipe? Send it to us for possible inclusion in Sailor & Galley. Tell us why it’s a favorite, and add a short description of your boat and where you cruise. Send it, along with high-resolution digital photos of you aboard your boat, to sailorandgalley@cruisingworld.com.

The post Sailor & Galley: Crab Cakes and the Simple Life appeared first on Cruising World.

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Had I not fallen in love with a sailor from the other side of the world, I could’ve happily stayed in Mexico aboard Circe, my family’s Catalina 400, for the rest of my life. 

Starting from a young age, I’d spent my life sailing the California coast with my family aboard Tango, our Catalina 30. Later, on the larger Circe, we spent every spring cruising the Sea of Cortez, smitten by the region’s warm water, stunning wildlife and pristine anchorages. I never grew tired of sailing, exploring, snorkeling, spearfishing and enjoying delicious meals aboard. (I was a family cook.)

Then, I met Tristan, a Welshman who shared my love of boats and the sea. He joined us aboard Circe for a few seasons, exploring Mexico before we married. We moved from the warm, familiar shores of Mexico to a rainy isle called Great Britain, my husband’s homeland.

 We settled in Pembrokeshire, Wales, a county on the country’s western tip known for the breathtaking national park that spans its coast. The area is a step back in time; people either love or hate the slow pace of life. Those who love it have one thing in common: a lifestyle that revolves around the sea. We fit right in.

 Not long after arrival, I set sail on a weeklong Royal Yachting Association Day Skipper course. What better way to get to know my new sailing ground? Two other student crew and I boarded our 40-footer, met our professional skipper, and got settled. We sailed from Milford Haven, a tidal estuary that divides Pembrokeshire County in half from north to south. The week’s plan was to allow the tides and weather to dictate our daily passages. By the end of the week, we’d be able to confidently day-skipper our own boats. 

 Britain’s cruising grounds differ from California’s and Mexico’s in a few ­noteworthy ways. The tidal range in Pembrokeshire is more than twice that of San Francisco Bay. The weather is famously fickle. Navigation takes some getting used to. (The red-green buoys are reversed from what boaters know in the United States. Here, it’s green, right, returning.) And, unlike the Sea of Cortez, the water is cold. Snorkeling off a boat requires 4 millimeters of neoprene, followed by hot cups of tea to thaw frozen fingers.

 When I boarded the boat that gray Friday evening for the start of my course, I knew to expect these differences. In fact, what surprised me most wasn’t the dismal weather or nautical nuances, but the discovery of something Britain is most certainly not known for: delicious food.

 My fellow crewmembers and I took turns cooking the evening meals. Most of the dishes on rotation were familiar comfort foods such as curry, chili and spaghetti Bolognese, which the Brits affectionately call “spag bol.” When it was my turn to cook, I was handed a bag of pasta, some canned tomatoes and a few cans of tuna. My instructions: “Make a tuna pasta bake.” 

Truth: I’d never even heard of a tuna casserole, never mind a tuna pasta bake. I suspected that the crew had invented it just to use up our remaining provisions, but they were adamant that it was a British classic.

 As I stood in the galley, eyeing up my ingredients and forming a plan, the crew could sense my ­apprehension. One by one, they began popping their heads into the ­companionway to offer advice.

 “My mum always added sweet corn,” one said.

“I bake mine until the top is a little crispy,” another chimed in.

“I’d add that third tin of tuna,” yet another offered.

 I listened to some of their suggestions (the crispy top) and respectfully ignored some (the sweet corn). The result was a tuna pasta bake that I’m proud to say won the British crew’s stamp of approval. It was everything a cold-water boat meal should be: simple, hearty, and the perfect excuse to turn on the oven and warm up the cabin. 

British-Style Tuna Bake (serves 6)

• 1 lb. rigatoni or penne pasta
• 3-4 Tbsp. olive oil
• 2 small or medium onions, chopped
• Salt and pepper to taste 
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 8 Tbsp. tomato paste
• 3/4  cup red wine
• 1 12-ounce can diced tomatoes
• 2 tsp. sugar
• Pinch of oregano and basil 
• 3 cans tuna in oil (3.5- to 5-ounce cans, drained)
• 1 generous cup fresh baby spinach leaves or kale, chopped
• 1 cup mozzarella, grated
• 1 generous cup cheddar, grated
• Dusting of Parmesan, grated

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.

Boil pasta in a large pot of generously salted water, until one stage before al dente. (Use package directions as a guide.) Drain, but reserve about 1½ cups of the pasta water. Set pasta aside. 

Heat olive oil in the pasta pot. Sauté onions with a pinch of salt and pepper until they soften. Add garlic and cook for another 2 minutes. Add tomato paste and blend, stirring, for another minute. Stir in the wine, and allow sauce to simmer for 2 to 3 minutes. 

Stir in tomatoes, sugar, herbs and tuna. Simmer for 10 minutes. Add baby spinach or kale and cook briefly, until wilted.

Remove from heat. Thin the sauce with a bit of pasta water, then gradually add cooked pasta and mozzarella, stirring gently and adding more pasta water as needed to keep the mixture moist. Transfer to a greased 9-by-13-inch baking pan or casserole dish. Top with cheddar and Parmesan. 

Bake until cheese is melted and ­bubbling, and the edges of the bake are slightly crispy. Serve warm.

Prep time: 30 minutes (including cook time)
Difficulty: Easy
Can be made: At anchor

The post Sailor & Galley: Classic British Comfort Food Warms the Boat in Wales appeared first on Cruising World.

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There’s a food preservation zeitgeist in my world. It started with expanding our canning repertoire here in the Cabrales Boatyard in Puerto Penasco, Mexico. Our current access to a full bounty of ingredients and supplies prompted the canning projects. Gaining basic canning experience before departing on a bluewater cruise is useful and can also help cruisers connect with and anticipate a future cruising life. We are gradually stocking up and I look forward to the days when my husband, Jaime, and I will happily rely more on what’s on board instead of what’s on shore and we’ll trade well-stocked grocery stores for swaying palm trees and turquoise water. Fueling our bodies with homemade goodness from our onboard canning bounty after a hard day of snorkeling in a remote area will surely add to the pleasure of a day.

Dispelling the myth of glass jars

Although some cruisers may have concerns about glass containers on board, we use a lot of glass canning jars aboard our Stevens 47 Totem and have broken only two. The broken jars were a result of errors on our part, and not a result of the glass thrashing around in an agitated sea state or flying across the cabin. The jars get no special storage care such as bubble-wrap padding. We simply place them in a locker snugly enough to make sure they don’t go flying around. Should one drop on the cabin sole, there may be food to clean up but the durable jars remain intact.

Reducing waste 

My friend Kristen Hanes knows of my affinity for food preservation. She took time out from getting her CT41, John Muir, ready to launch to share some cool news she learned from a recent NY Times article:

• The average U.S. household wastes nearly a third of the food it buys.
• Households account for 39 percent of food waste in the U.S., which is more than restaurants, supermarkets or farms.
• In the U.S., food waste is responsible for a greater amount of greenhouse gas emissions than commercial aviation.

At a time where most levers for reducing greenhouse gases may feel out of reach for individuals, here is one that is solidly in our control. Food preservation to keep our excess food from spoiling is an easy way to reduce our individual waste. When you can your own food like this, you are not turning single-use cans into rubbish that can’t be handled in faraway places.

Kristen and I spent an hour talking about food preservation and you can listen in on episode 30 of her podcast – The Wayward Home. The food preservation tips aren’t just for tiny home living. They’re for all of us and they can make a difference.

Reducing even more wasteSpeaking of making a difference, I hope more than a few folks reading this were cheering along as Kirsten Neuschäfer drifted towards the 2022 Golden Globe Race finish line April 26 off Les Sables-d’Olonne, France. After 235 days at sea, she won the epic solo, single-handed race around the world. An emotional moment that genuinely made me well up was seeing the post a few days later from chef Jean-Louis Leclerc. He was alongside Minnehaha with Kirsten, and sitting on the dock beside them were bags with the now-empty glass jars of food he had donated to her campaign. It is a part of the race rules that all recyclable goods must be stored aboard. But these weren’t just metal cans ready for recycling. They’re glass jars ready to be used again and again. It’s a great model for cruisers.

Jean-Louis was a stranger to Kirsten when he offered to provide her with 100 jars of prepared food for the race. He surely knew that this thoughtfulness would fuel Kirsten’s mind and soul, not just her body, as she sailed around the world; she mentioned Jean-Louis’ beautifully-prepared meals in the letters she passed off in drop points during the race.

What we’re canning

In our temporary land-galley, a rack of wire shelves has a growing stash; some chosen for practicality, others for delight. My practical side appreciates that when time and ideas are running low, opening a can of dry-packed potatoes for a quick breakfast fry-up is a welcome start to a good, quick meal. Here in Mexico, green waves of ferny fronds in fields east of town attest to the end of the local asparagus season. My purchases from a street vendor, pickled with lemon, will be a treat later during our travels.

Affordable Mexican pork has been turned into jars of carnitas for a quick, yummy taco or enchilada whenever we have the craving. Jalapeño jelly and cream cheese on crackers for a snack? Yes, please. I recently experimented with canning bread (yes, yeast bread). We opened the jar after about six weeks, and while it wasn’t fresh-from-the-oven good, it was far better than anything I can usually buy locally.

A few starter ideas:

• This flexible recipe for papaya chutney is a forgiving first recipe. No papaya? Substitute other similarly-textured fruit available to you, such as mangoes or peaches.
• Canning meat helped keep our omnivore crew happy, and was easier than I ever imagined. I walked through my process for canning chicken on board.
• Rebel Canners / Canning Rebels have been a great source of recipes. “Your kitchen, your rules,” is their motto, but it’s a good idea to learn about FDA guidelines and canning safety and then make an informed decision that’s right for you.
• Other favorites: Canning Granny has provided useful methods and ideas, as has Diane Devereaux (The Canning Diva).

What do you need for canning?

I keep a list of jars and lids we use on Totem. Here’s what works for us.

• Standardizing on a single size jar. I like wide mouth pint jars. While they cost more online, you can look for deals in stores such as Target and Walmart. They are the easiest to fill and readily double as drinking glasses.
• Ditch the tin-plated rings and lids that the jars come with. They quickly become a rusty mess on board.
• Use BPA-free plastic lids (such as Tattler or Harvest Guard) which can be re-used and don’t rust.
• Make sure to get good bands. Heavier-duty 304 stainless bands from EcoJarz  used to be the only game in town, but you can source durable lids at good prices more readily now.

Of course you’ll need a canning pot, too, one that works best with your method of canning. Pressure canning (for low-acid food, like meat or vegetables) and water bath canning (for fruits with an acid added such as vinegar in chutney) are the most common.

We don’t have a pressure canner. I use a pressure cooker (see my linked post on canning chicken for how and why). I primarily use our Instant Pot the Pro Plus – which has a ‘max’ pressure setting of 15 psi. The USDA does not officially approve; my galley, my rules.

Don’t count on finding canning jars and supplies while cruising. I found it difficult to buy jars along the way. A last note on using heavier bands: while they cost quite a lot more, you don’t need one for every jar. You only need enough to use during the process. You can remove the bands from the jars for storage after the contents have cooled. Here’s an illustration of one reason to get the bands off promptly. They can corrode to the point of needing to be cut off, such as the lid and band of this delicious jar of pickled cauliflower a friend gifted us.

Storing jars on board

Jamie has figured out how to turn a new space on board into storage for nearly 100 canning jars. The spot was previously where Totem’s electrical panel used to be. I joke (but, it’s no joke) that he knows my love language. The new space is tall and not very deep, making it awkward for many other uses, but ideal for our jars. 

Whether you’re inspired by Kristen’s lower-waste living, by Kirsten’s jars-round-the-world, or eating well in your cruising life, don’t let canning intimidate you. It really isn’t that hard. If there’s someone near you with canning experience, I can almost guarantee they’ll be happy to hold your hand through the first time.

TOTEM TALKS: Anchoring

We’ll discuss anchoring techniques and politics in our June 4 Totem Talk. Register here to join.

The post Sailing Totem: The Many Benefits of Canning appeared first on Cruising World.

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Fog is a fact of life along the Maine coast, where my husband, Bud, and I cruise Opus, our 28-foot wood sloop. One day, we were anchored in the Barred Islands, a small archipelago in Penobscot Bay. It was isolated, beautiful and peaceful. We’d awakened early to a world of cottony gray, with fog so thick that visibility was reduced to near zero. A fine mist seemed to permeate everything, including our bones. 

Sailing in fog isn’t especially dangerous if you’re paying close attention to your navigation, but it can be nerve-wracking and tedious. At the time, we didn’t have a reliable radar aboard—and we were, after all, on vacation. We decided to stay put until the pea soup lifted, likely in a few hours.

For extended vacation cruising, we usually opt for Penobscot Bay because (to quote A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast) if you “dream of perfect cruising grounds, of islands large and small…of intriguing harbors and ­alluring towns, of lonely ­outposts lost in time…that place is Penobscot Bay.”  

We’d departed our home port of Kittery Point, Maine, on an extended summer cruise in search of all of the above, plus a few reunions with old friends in ports along our route. Fog was a familiar foe; our record for fogbound days one previous summer was nine out of 14 days. We knew that with the dampness permeating everything aboard, life would be a bit uncomfortable till the sun came out again.

Opus is a true coastal-­Maine sloop, designed by Ralph Winslow and built in Camden in 1953. When we discovered her for sale from a boatbuilding school in Rockport in 1984, her hull was sound, but she needed ­significant refurbishing and repair. Fortunately, Bud is a boatbuilder by trade, so tackling all this was well within his wheelhouse. We bought her and lovingly brought her back to life. 

Among her classic charms is a tiny coal stove complete with Charlie Noble pipe on the cabin top, which we use for both cooking and heat (even in summer, Maine can be chilly). Because we were growing damper by the minute, we decided to fire it up. It was a good time to get busy in the galley and bake something quick and easy that would lift our spirits and help kill the chill.

It was a good time to get busy in the galley and bake something quick and easy that would lift our spirits and kill the chill.

We always carry plenty of staple dry stores aboard when cruising; I had some canned cherry pie filling, as well as sugar and flour. I had butter in the fridge. Making pie crust has never been my favorite galley activity, so I decided on an easy and relatively quick alternative: cherry crumble. It’s perfect for boat cooks with a sweet tooth who don’t want to spend a lot of time creating elaborate desserts. 

Crumbles (also called crisps or cobblers) are also ideal for cruisers because any fruit—canned pie filling, frozen fruit or fresh fruit—will work. Apples, peaches, cherries or berries are always a good bet. 

As the crumble baked, we were warmed in more ways than one. The baking crumble filled the salon with a delicious, buttery aroma, transforming our dank, chilly quarters into a warm, cozy refuge. 

A bit later, as often ­happens in New England, the fog vanished as fast as it had descended. The sun burned it off, revealing a bright day. We weighed anchor and sailed west for a prearranged reunion with friends in Camden. Later that evening, they came aboard for a grilled-steak dinner followed by my fogbound crumble. The verdict was unanimous: utterly delicious.

Fogbound Cherry Crumble (serves 6)

• 1 can (21 oz.) cherry pie filling
• 1 cup flour
• ¾ cup white sugar
• ¼ cup brown sugar, packed*
• ½ tsp. ground cinnamon (optional)
• ½ tsp. salt (optional)8 Tbsp. butter

*Use white sugar if you don’t have brown sugar.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease an 8-by-8-inch baking dish, and spread fruit evenly over the bottom. 

In a medium bowl, combine flour, sugar(s), cinnamon and salt. Mix well. 

Melt butter (alternatively, use cold butter, diced). Add butter to dry ­ingredients. Stir and blend with a fork or your hands. This should result in a slightly dry, crumbly mixture. With your hands, sprinkle the topping evenly over the pie filling. 

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the fruit is bubbly at the edges and the crumble turns golden (check after 15 minutes). Allow to cool slightly. Serve warm or at room temperature, plain or topped with a dollop of whipped cream, yogurt, or ice cream. Garnish with fresh mint leaves if available.

Cook’s Notes: If using fresh fruit, use firm pieces. Slice if needed. Mix with 1 teaspoon lemon juice and 2 teaspoons cornstarch. Depending on the fruit’s natural sweetness, you can add up to ½ cup sugar along with the cornstarch. If using frozen fruit, don’t thaw. Increase cornstarch to 2 or 3 tablespoons.

Prep time: 40 minutes
Difficulty: Easy
Can be made: At anchor or underway

Jean Kerr is the author of The Mystic Cookbook: Recipes, History and Seafaring Lore (Globe Pequot, 2018).

The post Sailor & Galley: Chasing Away the Fog With a Tart Cherry Crumble appeared first on Cruising World.

My husband, Jeff, and I were relaxing in the cockpit of Outrider, our Westsail 42, in San Carlos, Mexico, when we suddenly found ourselves talking about Greece. We were traveling happily down memory lane, reminiscing about a summer we’d spent years ago, backpacking through the Greek islands. The taste of the meal we’d just eaten at a favorite beachside restaurant in Mexico, La Palapa Griega, had brought memories flooding back. Soon, the talk turned to food. 

Years ago, we’d arrived in Santorini, Greece, sleep-­deprived, frazzled and hungry. Wandering off the beaten path, we’d found a quiet taverna, where we sampled pastitsio for the first time. Often called Greek lasagna, this baked, meaty casserole—layers of spiced ground beef, long tubular pasta, and a rich and creamy white-sauce topping—completely revived us. The taste of that delicious first bite has stayed with us for years.

Back home again in California, as we resumed full-time work and life aboard, I tried to re-create the dish, without success. My efforts were a little bland and dry.  

Fast forward to Mexico, where (now retired) we spend every winter aboard. As full-time liveaboards for 30-odd years, the decision to sail our home south, to live our dream of cruising Mexico and the Sea of Cortez, also meant we were in a hurricane zone with scorching summers—a situation not exactly conducive to year-round living aboard. Neither of us relished the idea of living like moles belowdecks, air conditioning running, unable to venture outside during hot daylight hours. Ultimately, we decided to cruise during the cooler months and leave Outrider in capable hands, either on the hard or in a secure slip in Mexico, each summer while we headed back north.

To avoid paying double rent (a marina slip in Mexico and an apartment in the United States) we offered our services as summertime pet and house sitters to our travel-loving US friends up north. It worked. Now, though we do house-sit occasionally, we have a “liveaboard” camper van; each summer, we head north to land-cruise, camping and exploring new places every year. 

Back aboard Outrider that evening, by the time the reminiscing wound down, we’d worked up a serious pastitsio jones. We made a plan: We’d return to the restaurant in a day or two, to sample their Greek lasagna. 

Unfortunately, Lady Luck had other ideas. Later that evening, we heard what sounded like fire alarms in the distance, followed by an ominous dark plume of smoke wafting out over the ocean. It appeared that something rather big was ablaze, but majestic Tetakawi Mountain blocked our view. 

The next day, we found out the casualty was our beloved La Palapa Griega. We wouldn’t be eating their pastitsio anytime soon. 

So, I retrieved my recipe stash from a drawer, found the well-worn notes from my earlier attempts, and got busy on my Greek pasta bake. Jeff took one bite and tactfully reminded me that nothing magical had occurred over the years; the recipe was still a bit bland and dry. But, unlike before, I now had all the time in the world to tweak the recipe. 

The proper pasta for this dish—thick, hollow ­spaghetti—is hard to find outside Greece, so I went for penne. It’s hollow and about the same diameter, just shorter. I experimented with sauce-to-meat ratios and different spices. After one more trial that didn’t quite work, the third time, like that first bite years ago in Santorini, hit the sweet spot. Flavorful, aromatic and moist, it truly was a taste of times past.

Editor’s Note: Mott reports that as of September 2022, La Palapa Griega is up and running.

Meaty Greek Lasagna, serves 6 to 8

• 10-12 oz. raw penne pasta (about 3-3 1/2 cups)
• 4 Tbsp. olive oil
• 1 cup Parmesan, grated 
• 13/4 lb. ground beef
• 1 small to medium onion, chopped
• 1 24-oz. jar tomato sauce
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1/4 tsp. pepper
• 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp. ground cloves

White Sauce

• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/4 cup flour
• 2 cups milk, room temperature
• 1/2 cup additional Parmesan, grated finely
• 2 egg yolks, room temperature 
• Salt and pepper, to taste

Cook penne al dente according to package instructions. Drain and toss with 2 tablespoons olive oil and a little Parmesan; set aside. 

In a large pan, briefly sauté beef in remaining 2 tablespoons oil. Add onions, and cook till soft and meat is browned. Do not drain fat. Stir in tomato sauce, salt, pepper, cinnamon and ground cloves. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer 20 minutes. 

Grease a 9-by-13 ovenproof baking pan. Spread half of the pasta evenly on the bottom of the pan. Spread the meat sauce over the pasta in an even layer. Sprinkle with Parmesan. Spread remaining pasta on top.

Make the white sauce: In a saucepan over low heat, melt butter and slowly shake in flour a bit at a time, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon or wire whisk. Very gradually add room-temperature milk a little at a time, stirring constantly to prevent lumps. When all milk is added, continue to heat and stir until sauce begins to thicken. (This can take 10 to 20 minutes.) Add 1/4 cup Parmesan, and continue stirring. When sauce is thickened and creamy, it’s ready. Remove from heat, and let cool slightly. 

Lightly beat room-temperature egg yolks in a small bowl. Take a small amount of sauce and add it to the eggs, whisking rapidly. Pour egg mix into sauce in pan, and stir vigorously to blend. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Pour sauce evenly over pasta layers. Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 30 minutes. Briefly remove from oven, top with remaining 1/4 cup Parmesan, tent loosely with foil, and bake an additional 10 to 15 minutes, or until top is golden brown and meat sauce is bubbling at the edges. Let sit 10 to 20 minutes before cutting into square pieces to serve. 

Prep time: 2 hours

Difficulty: Medium

Can be made: at anchor

Cook’s Notes

To cut down on the prep time, you can use a good packaged mix for the white sauce. Leftover lasagna keeps well in the fridge for two days. Or freeze in individual portions, and reheat to eat. If anything, it gets even better.

What’s Cooking?

Do you have a favorite boat recipe? Send it to us for possible use in Sailor & Galley. Tell us why it’s a favorite, and add a short description of your boat and where you cruise. Send it, along with a high-quality digital photo of yourself aboard your boat, to sailorandgalley@cruisingworld.com

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Last month’s winter solstice was the perfect reminder for our family that cruising the world doesn’t mean giving up the rituals that add to a family’s origin story. After 15 years aboard our Stevens 47 Totem, we rarely spend holidays in the same country twice, but we’ve grown family traditions while sailing around the world.

It felt charming to be snowed in last month at my Aunt Heidi’s house in Washington state on the shortest day of the year. We were supposed to head south to Bainbridge Island, to meet up with my brother and his family flying in from Boston, and our son coming up from Portland, Oregon. Mother Nature had other plans. Thanks to freezing rain, we were housebound another day—with the distinct upsides of cheesy holiday movies, a snowball fight and cracking up in front of a crackling YouTube fire on the mega-screen TV.

We’ve been able to slow down and enjoy some time together. I try not to think about how fleeting it is to have a family quorum. The views out the windows of Aunt Heidi’s great room are of the Chuckanut Mountains and tidal flatlands in the basin of Chuckanut Bay. We were treated to deer walking through, and beautiful peekaboo views of Mount Baker in the distance. There was time to make ourselves useful.

There were culinary upsides, too: Aunt Heidi is an excellent cook, and her home has a well-equipped kitchen. We stocked up with groceries based purely on looking forward to cooking in the social space. And thank goodness we did, because we didn’t leave the house for five days! The cooking had to get a little creative, without an opportunity to run out for a missed ingredient or full knowledge of the kitchen’s contents. Like with our latkes: This year, we had to cheat a little, using hash browns because we couldn’t find a box grater (which, of course, turned up the next day). But who cares? Especially when the latkes are served with smoked salmon aioli or tarragon béarnaise.

On December 20, my daughter Siobhán reminded me that we should make our traditional solstice sun bread the next day. In one sentence, she warmed me with how, despite her highly nomadic childhood, we have created traditions for our family. Our children appreciate them, and seek to continue them, and share them with us. I didn’t have to look hard in our image archives to find reminders of the many examples of Totem’s solstice sun bread over the years.

Other traditions may be more constant: the decorations we bring out and activities we indulge in, like this Christmas in Thailand. Others are found along the way, like funny hats and a sunglass-clad Santa in Australia’s “silly season.”

So, Siobhán made our solstice bread while I fussed over email. A picture of the delicious outcome posted on social media brought a flurry of recipe requests, so here it is. This bread entered the Totem holiday corpus in 2011, our year in Australia. The idea that we were celebrating winter solstice in June felt odd. Looking for ways to share holiday joy and learning, I made the first batch of bread with help from the junior crew.

Enjoy it from your own galley or kitchen.

Solstice Sun Bread

Ingredients:

• 1.5 Tbsp. yeast (about two packages)
• 3 Tbsp. lukewarm milk (or water)
• 3 eggs
• 3 Tbsp. sugar
• 2 cups flour
• 8 Tbsp. salted butter, melted (or egg wash)

Preparation:

• Proof yeast in milk (or water). Let stand until foamy.
• Meanwhile, combine eggs and sugar.  Stir well
• In a larger bowl, combine flour and butter. Add egg mixture and beat well. Add yeast mixture and stir.
• Knead the dough. It will be very wet; I do the kneading on a silicone baking mat. It’s OK to add flour to work the dough.
• Scrape the dough out of the bowl, oil it, and return the ball of kneaded dough to the bowl. Wait for the dough to double in size.
• Punch down the dough, knead briefly, then divide in half. One half becomes the sun’s face, made by shaping a ball, pressing it down, and centering it on a baking sheet. The other half is divided (into six, eight or 10 parts) and turned into the sun’s rays.  
• Save a bit of dough (I pinch bits off the rays) to make facial features on the sun. You can also add features by poking into the dough with your fingers or a spoon.
• Let rise again on baking sheet. Brush the dough with melted butter (or egg wash) to create a gorgeous crust.
• Bake in a pre-heated, 425-degree oven until crust is golden. This can take 10 to 30 minutes. 

Happy New Year, from our crew to yours! If you make your own sun bread, tag us Cruising World. We’d love to see it

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Do you have a favorite sailboat recipe you’d like to share? We’d love to see it! 

Send us the recipe, along with two or three photos of yourself aboard your boat.

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EDITED BY LYNDA MORRIS CHILDRESS

We’d just hit the jackpot. We were docked in Tobin Harbor on Lake Superior’s Isle Royale aboard Sasha, our Island Packet 40, when the bounty appeared. It came along with a park ranger, who’d just happened by to check on things. As we chatted amiably, he blurted, “Would you like some fresh fish?” He’d caught far more than he could eat that day. “Call me Rick,” he said with a grin.

My husband, Radd, is a sailor, not a fisherman; he was thrilled to have any fish out of the lake. Of course, we gratefully accepted—and counted our blessings for having discovered this wonderful place. 

Our journey had been a long one. Florida is our home port, and we’d spent our cruising lives on various boats exploring the Bahamas and the US East Coast as far north as Washington, D.C. Then, inspired by an upcoming family wedding in Minnesota, we decided to cruise north, with an extended Great Loop adventure.

We started that March, heading up the Intracoastal Waterway and seeing New York City from a mooring ball on the Hudson River. We unstepped the mast in Catskill, New York, and then journeyed through the Erie Canal, where locals told us that we had the biggest sailboat they had seen all season. We branched off at the Oswego Canal, then crossed Lake Ontario and entered the Trent-Severn Waterway in Canada. 

Once we got to Midland, Ontario, we were a sailboat again, cruising on to Georgian Bay and the North Channel of Lake Huron. While most Loopers turn south at this point, we kept going straight into Lake Superior via the Soo Locks, near Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan. Since we still had time before the wedding, we headed to Isle Royale. 

Forty-five miles long and 9 miles wide, Isle Royale is more popular with hikers than boaters, so it’s never crowded on the water. It’s a US national park, albeit one of the least-visited ­because of its short season and remote location. It can be cold even in July, and there’s fog. This is remote cruising at its best. 

The scenery is unrivaled. Fjords offer protection and shelter, and there are numerous no-service docks. Wildlife includes moose and wolves, as well as plenty of fish.

The fish we received that day were lake trout, four of them. This fish could not have been any fresher. Of course, we invited Ranger Rick to join us for dinner, along with Ted, our dock neighbor. 

I’d need a meal fit for company. I decided on a quick tomato-­onion salsa to accompany the fish, assembled it, and then set it aside to let the flavors blend. As I prepared to saute the fish, I had a moment of panic: I was out of cooking oil. I mean, totally out—no canola oil, no olive oil, not even butter. I was up fish creek without a paddle.

Then, I thought of mayonnaise. It was oil-based, and I was out of options. I tossed a couple of tablespoons of it in the hot pan and—voilà!—it melted. It resembled oil. 

I threw on the fish. While they sizzled, I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

It was a memorable dinner, lively with good conversation and good company. Rick’s story was fascinating: We learned about his work with water management on the island (there is a lodge, a restaurant and regular ferry service) and his seasonal life in an island cabin. He spends every summer on the island; his wife joins him on weekends via ferry. Fish, he told us, is a staple of his diet, and he was most pleased with having it prepared in a different way. 

The “mayo fish” earned two thumbs up from all, as well as a toast to creative cooking. The fish was white, firm, mild and divine. The salsa was a classic hit too. 

Good as it was, the fish wasn’t the only thing that got caught that day. Lake Superior had worked its magic. We were ­captured—hook, line and sinker. It’s our new base for the near future. —Lorelei Johnson

Trout with Tomato-Onion Salsa (serves 4)

For the trout:

• 4 lake trout fillets, 6 oz. each (or ­substitute saltwater trout, grouper, salmon or tilefish)
• 3 Tbsp. mayonnaise
• Salt and pepper, to taste

For the salsa:

• 3 large cloves garlic 
• 3 medium tomatoes, chopped
• 1 medium sweet onion, finely chopped
• 1/2 cup cilantro, finely chopped
• Juice of 1 lime
• Kosher or sea salt, to taste

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Peel and mince the garlic. Leave it on your cutting board. Sprinkle with salt, and press the mixture with the flat side of a large knife; gather it back together, and repeat several times to form a paste. Combine remaining salsa ingredients in a medium bowl, blend in the garlic paste, and set aside. Do not ­refrigerate. 

Heat a large, heavy, oven-proof pan (­preferably cast-iron) over medium-high heat. Add mayonnaise, and spread it around with a wooden spoon. Saute fish fillets for 2 to 3 minutes without moving or lifting the fish. 

Gently lift one fillet’s corner to check for ­doneness. If it’s browned, then flip the fillets and place the pan in the oven. After 2 to 3 minutes in the oven, the other side will brown and the inside will cook.

To serve, place a fillet in the center of each plate and top with a generous amount of salsa. Serve any remaining salsa in a bowl on the table. Accompany with rice and fresh bread for dipping.

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It was Lucas, age 8, who spoke first.

“Whoa!” he hollered. “This ­chicken is, like, totally good!” 

The words drifted down the companionway and directly into my ears, which, along with the rest of me, were standing at the sink engaged in scrubbing a seriously crusty pan. We were in Greece’s Saronic Islands after a morning of sailing, anchored in a quiet spot for swimming and lunch aboard Stressbuster, our Greek-designed Atlantic 70 cutter. Our charter guests that week were a delightfully down-to-earth family of four from Connecticut. 

It’s not that I make a habit of ­eavesdropping, exactly. But I must confess, I dolisten to gauge guests’ reactions to the lunches I serve on board. Sounds of satisfaction—or complete silence except for the clinking of utensils against plates, followed by low murmurs of “yum” or “this is delicious”—are always music to my ears.

Suddenly (still not eavesdropping), I realized that Luc’s 6-year-old sister, Lyra, was ominously silent. I sneaked a peek up the companionway, dreading the “I’m so not happy” look that often precedes a kid meltdown. Instead, I saw her fully engaged in hands-on chowing down a chicken leg, face over plate, chicken bits on face, fork asunder. All good.

As crew and cook aboard Stressbuster, I try to make one daily meal that will please everyone. This can be tricky, even with grown-ups (everybody’s a kid at heart), but it is especially so when we have young sailors aboard. 

It’s a rare kid who will eat anything and everything. We’ve had finicky eaters, ­including one who’d eat only spaghetti with butter; another, only chicken nuggets; yet another, only Nutella on fresh bread or fruit, for the entire week. We’ve had trend eaters who left me wondering, How do kids decide to become macrobiotic ­vegans at age 12? Far more frequently, we have kids who are just missing familiar comfort foods from home who ask, “Do you know how to make peanut butter and jelly?” Yes, you bet I do!

Ever since my Greek husband, Kostas, and I began charters on our boat 20-plus years ago, I’ve adapted Greek recipes to make them more boat-friendly and added my own touches. That day’s lunch, Greek chicken lemonata, was one of my first attempts. Though I’d served it to a few adults, always receiving rave reviews and requests for the recipe, I had yet to serve it to my most discerning diners: the kids.

In Greece, chicken lemonata is often braised, either in a large stewpot on the stovetop, or covered with foil in the oven with lotsofwater added. Since I usually cook lunch underway, weather permitting, neither was a terrific option. Oven-braising requires frequent checks and replenishing of pan liquid, not to mention yielding mushy chicken and potatoes. And a large stewpot on even a gimbaled stovetop underway is a no-go. (We have a stove safety rail, as well as stainless-steel pot clamps, but when it comes to large pots, both fail spectacularly.) I needed to adapt this dish for safe, hassle-free one-pan cooking underway, in the oven, with its door locked.

It’s a rare kid who will eat anything and everything. We’ve had finicky eaters, including one who’d eat only spaghetti with butter.

Oregano is a worshiped herb in Greek cuisine, a fact that is not surprising because the stuff grows in Greece with almost supernatural abundance, even in the wild. The Greeks use it in, well, almost everything. Fresh herbs always trump dried, if you can get them—and I had them, from our home herb garden. In addition to the requisite oregano, I added sage, rosemary, thyme and more garlic. For the lemon sauce, I whisked olive oil together with lemon juice and a pinch of salt. No water. It worked.

After lunch that day, with the dishes stowed and galley cleaned, I rejoined the crew on deck. As we sailed downwind toward the next island, the kids’ mom, Liz, leaned over and whispered, “Lynda, the kids have made a wish: for that lemon chicken one more time before we leave. Do you think that’s even possible?” 

You can guess what my answer was. Not only did my chicken pass the kid test, but I also got to grant two kids’ wishes in the bargain. 

I’m totally good with that.

Roasted Greek Chicken Lemonata

• 4 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs
• 4 bone-in, skin-on chicken legs 
• 11/4  to 11/2  cups olive oil
• Juice of  1/2 medium lemon (about 1 Tbsp., or to taste)
• Pinch of salt
• 2 tsp. each, chopped: fresh sage, rosemary, thyme, oregano; or, 1 heaping tsp. each, dried
• 3-4 large cloves garlic, minced 
• 4 medium potatoes
• Salt and pepper, to taste

Serves 4

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Rub the chicken pieces with some of the olive oil, salt and pepper, and arrange in a lightly oiled large baking pan, leaving space for potatoes in between. (If your boat oven lacks a top heating element, then lightly brown the chicken in a little olive oil first.) 

In a large measuring cup, whisk together most of the remaining olive oil, all of the lemon juice, and some salt until emulsified and blended. Add the chopped herbs and minced garlic. Stir together with a fork (garlic and herbs will gum up a whisk). Set aside to let the flavors blend.

Cut potatoes into eighths ­lengthwise. Place them in a large bowl. Add a bit of salt and pepper and a swirl of olive oil, and toss with your hands to coat. 

Wedge the potatoes around and under the chicken in the pan, making sure the ­potatoes are touching the bottom or sides. Pour the olive-oil/lemon ­mixture over everything, ­distributing the sauce, herbs and garlic evenly. 

Bake for about 1 hour, uncovered, basting once halfway through, until the chicken and potatoes are done. The internal temperature of the chicken should be at least 165 to 175 degrees ­Fahrenheit, and the potatoes should be soft inside. 

To serve, arrange the chicken on a large serving platter, with the potatoes in the middle. Drizzle pan juices over it all. Garnish with sprigs of fresh herbs and lemon slices.

• Prep time: 1 hour, 15 minutes
• Difficulty: Easy
• Can be made: Underway or At Anchor

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After six months of using my Instant Pot, I have some opinions. One I’m sure of: This gadget is going to make the short list of galley MVPs on board our Stevens 47, Totem. Another strong opinion is that the benefits of an Instant Pot are largely similar to a conventional stovetop pressure cooker. Both will reduce galley heat, lower fuel consumption and allow great shortcuts that I detailed a few months ago in “Is an Instant Pot Worth it?” 

Readers asked for favorite Instant Pot recipes. I’ve had a lot of time to try standard family favorites, and I’ve been exploring additional recipes to fit our sailing life. I polled friends and a favorite forum to glean the onboard favorites from other folks, too. 

Preparing meals ahead helps

When I solicited input on the Pressure Cooking on Boats Facebook group, Cindy Smith on her Oyster 54 Oyster Reach jumped in to say, “Just made pulled pork tonight in prep for passage from New Zealand to Fiji.” She’s been patiently waiting for a weather window and is now on her way. One of her favorite recipes? Bobotie, a South African specialty we’ve come to love. Not just an easy make-ahead, but easily reheated in a pressure cooker too. The recipe she shared is below.

One-pot meals win underway 

“Beans are one of our go-to passage meals,” says Erin Easingwood, who sails Skookum V, a Leopard 40, with her family, and has shared a few winning recipes with me in the past. And she’s right: When you can cook a meal in one pot (especially if juggling the helm and/or two busy children), your day at sea just got one tick easier. Simplified prep, fewer dishes and pressure cookers have locking lids by design, which means added safety if seas are spicy. 

Meals (and treats) made easy

Not gonna lie: I felt a little homesick when Roberta Darrow , who owns the Islander 36 Mystic in Mexico and the Transpacific Eagle 53 trawler Happy Talk in Puget Sound, posted from the Pacific Northwest about how the Instant Pot is ideal for preparing fresh-cracked Dungeness crab on her boat. Another new trick I learned? Whole coconuts are easily peeled after a few minutes under pressure. Cooking under pressure was a lifesaver for my hearty carnivores since unaged (and never refrigerated) meat in remote locales tends to be tough otherwise.

A well-fed crew is a happy crew

Sometimes, it’s easy, healthy snacks: Setting an exact cook time on an Instant Pot results in hard-boiled eggs that are perfect and easy-peel. Sometimes, it’s more substantial sustenance, such as comfort food readily prepared after a hard day’s boat work.

The recipes

Here’s a roundup of recipes that I hope you all enjoy. The first few are staple recipes referenced by many sailors. The rest are favorite recipes for pressure cooking on board. Some are linked, some are written out, all are delicious. 

Yogurt

Being able to DIY yogurt on board is helpful for access (it’s not sold in many places) and reducing waste (no more plastic tubs). The Boat Galley has a great yogurt recipe. It uses powdered milk and a thermos, but readily adapts to use the yogurt function on an Instant Pot. 

One boater who uses this recipe in her Instant Pot says: “I got rid of the thermos to make more space, and I don’t think the Instant Pot uses much power to maintain a temperature of about 115 degrees Fahrenheit for eight hours.” 

I might actually move our single-use, rather large EasiYo Yogurt machine off the boat now.

Rice

Rice has been the most widely available staple along the entirety of our circumnavigation.

As a college student, I researched wet rice agriculture—including living in a village in the foothills of an Indonesian volcano and helping with the harvest. It is the standing family joke that I am terrible at cooking rice on the stove, but having a rice cooker on board? Who does that? Then, I was introduced to perfect-every-time rice in a stovetop pressure cooker. The Instant Pot’s set-it-and-forget-it capability leveled me up.  

One cruiser takes it a step farther: “You can even cook rice in your pressure cooker. I put my rice, seasoning and water on the bottom, then slice sausage on top and pressure cook. Total meal in one pot. The sausage juices drip down and seasons the rice. Yum!”

Passage beans

The ease of stowing dried beans makes them a favorite among cruisers. They taste better than their canned brethren, and create less garbage. Cooking dried beans is often the first thing new pressure cooker owners learn to appreciate. Aboard Skookum V, Erin makes what she calls Passage Beans that are similar to what we enjoy, too, based on this recipe and interpreted for an Instant Pot. 

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon oil
• 1½ cups chopped onion
• 1 small red bell pepper, chopped
• 3 cups dry pinto beans (presoak, or see notes on adding cook time)
• 1 chipotle pepper in adobo, with sauce from the can; use more peppers for more punch
• 2 cups broth or stock
• 2 tablespoons mustard
• ½ cup tomato paste
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1-2 tablespoons chili powder (balance with chipotle, depending on spice preferences)
• 1-2 teaspoons liquid smoke (an essential pantry item on Totem)

Optional ingredients

• Sugar or other sweetener, if you like sweeter beans
• Hot sauce, if you like more kick to your beans

Preparation

1. Heat oil in the Instant Pot or pressure cooker; sauté onion and pepper until onion is soft and translucent.
2. Add beans, chipotle pepper and broth, then additional water as needed to just cover the beans.
3. Cook at high pressure for 15 minutes. Erin’s hot tip: skip pre-soaking, and increase cook time to 40 minutes.
4. Release pressure when time is up. Stir in mustard, tomato paste and seasonings. Heat (sauté function on an Instant Pot) another 10 to 15 minutes to bring flavors together. Taste and adjust as desired.

Bonus: If you do pot-in-pot cooking, a stacked pot can cook cornbread at the same time as the beans. Dinner’s on.

Hard-boiled eggs

These are a great cruising staple, for a few reasons. Keep a few in the fridge for an easy, delicious, healthy snack. Eggs are usually widely available, and they’re an inexpensive option for protein. Whoever brings deviled eggs to sundowners earns everyone’s appreciation.

I never nailed easy-peel hard boiled eggs until I had the Instant Pot to make the cooking dummy-proof. Susan Travers, on the Privilege 445 Motu, shared her go-to reference on cooking times for various levels of doneness. With room-temperature eggs and subtropical-temperature water, I find they take even less time.

Ramen is a big deal for our crew, and two minutes at low pressure makes an ideal “jammy” egg to marinate for topping a bowl of ramen.

One-pot pasta

Cooking in a pressure cooker means you don’t have to boil water (and then juggle the hot pot). This recipe, which teenagers love, uses the pasta’s starch to help thicken the sauce. And the recipe is more of a method, readily adapted to whatever you have on hand. Any kind of meat, veggies and pasta will do.

Preparation

1. Sauté meat and heartier veggies.
2. Add pasta, seasoning, broth or water to barely cover the pasta, and the more-tender veggies.
3. Cook for five minutes at pressure, and then allow to release naturally for five minutes before opening the pot.

Here’s how we interpreted this preparation a few nights ago:

1. Sauteed three links of sliced Polish sausage; added ½ diced onion and a couple of sliced carrots; cooked to soften, adding some minced garlic partway through.
2. Added half a 16-ounce bag of pasta, two cups of broth and sliced bell peppers. Stirred, put a 14.5-ounce tin of diced tomatoes over the top, and then a bit of water to cover the pasta.
3. Cooked as above, and then released pressure and opened the pot to add a bunch of spinach (I add a lot, like pot-height). If you stir it in, it wilts, so there is no need to cook further. 

We passed this dish around with Parmesan to sprinkle. Alternate versions include ham and peas, kale and walnuts, and sundried tomatoes with olives and capers

Baked potatoes

For years, we went without baked potatoes, partly because russets are scarce in the tropics, but mostly because it meant using the oven … or so I thought. Under pressure, potatoes come out perfectly (and quickly, and don’t heat your boat).

Preparation

1. Puncture scrubbed potatoes all around with a fork.
2. Place whole potatoes on a trivet. Top with salt and pepper, with water underneath for pressure.
3. Cook under pressure for 20 minutes, then allow to release naturally.

Loaded potatoes are a great family-pleaser meal. This preparation works with sweet potatoes, too.

Fish curry

Two salty commenters, Jaye Lunsford and Cheri Hanes, brought up fish curry as a favorite. It’s the only dish on this list of favorites we’ve never made, and now I’m wondering why. Seriously, fresh seafood plus coconut? What’s not to love? Cheri, who owned the Endeavour 42, Consort, recommended this favorite from Hip Pressure Cooking, and Jaye, aboard the CSY 33 Cinderella, shared one from a recipe book.

Lazy cabbage rolls

Amy Alton turns impressive meals out of the galley on Starry Horizons, her Fountaine Pajot Helia 44, so I paid attention when she suggested lazy cabbage rolls. “Take any cabbage roll recipe, follow it up to assembling. Throw it in the pressure cooker, add some extra water and then the cabbage on top. Cook for six minutes, and then naturally depressurize. I do it in my stovetop pressure cooker.”

This technique readily adapts to stacking in an Instant Pot. Amy has a circumnavigation under the keels: I trust her recommendations (also, I can’t believe I never thought of making this in a pressure cooker). She sent another recipe that riffs on traditional cabbage rolls by filling them with Asian flavors.  

Creamy chicken pasta

Deanna Landers and family are in the crunch period of projects on their Leopard 46. As they prep Erin Skye for offshore cruising, they are close to cutting the docklines, but can’t use the stove on board yet. We made the family’s Instant Pot favorite, creamy chicken pasta, partly to try it out, and partly to get a food photo. It was delicious. We dug in, polished it off and were rubbing our bellies when I remembered: the photo… 

Bobotie

Bobotie is part of Cape Malay cuisine, in which Asian spices meld with South African ingredients. When we were in Langkawi, Malaysia, the kids came home from a sleepover raving about it. We don’t have it often enough, because it requires using the oven, or so I thought. Cindy Smith is a tenured cruiser and Instant Pot pro; this is among her favorites recommended for preparing in a pressure cooker. Instant Pot users can readily adapt this bobotie recipe that Cindy recommended.

Dungeness crab

I might have had some pangs for our home waters of the Salish Sea when Roberta Darrow mentioned that an Instant pot is perfect for steaming fresh crab. “Our small pot fits four halves (two crabs with guts removed). Add ½ cup water, pressure cook for 5 minutes and then quick-release outside on the rear deck.” When we visited last month, crab season wasn’t open yet. I wonder if we can make it back in time this year?

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