You would think that the last thing I'd want to do on my day off was jump on a boat. For the past 14 years I've lived onboard various yachts, but my days are busy inside the boat cooking for guests and crew, so when we arrived in Costa Rica the first thing I did was look for a guide with a boat to show me all I'd missed.
We hadn't motored more than 100 feet from the black volcanic sand of the beach into the bay when Herardo pointed over the water.He swung the bow of the boat toward the mouth of the bay. Two islands covered in a vibrant green canopy of trees blocked the waves of the Pacific and the view of endless blue, but I doubted the serene beauty was what had the man excited.
Suddenly, the water exploded and the ridged mouth of a humpback whale shot into the air. To the right, the water opened again and a smaller, less wrinkled identical mouth broke the surface.I swiveled on the wood bench, clutching the rail and stared in awe.
The massive body seemed to hover half out of the water like it was suspended by invisible marionette strings before arching backwards and splashing into the calm water. White water rocketed up and sprayed the calf as he too sunk back into the bay.
And you thought they were myths. My husband's eyes twinkled the same color as the water around us. His smile created as many ridges around his eyes as those on the underside of the whale.
I've never seen a whale. I told Herardo, knowing he couldn't understand me but hoping he sensed the excitement in my voice.
Patrick laughed. "We used to see them every morning in Tahiti. They were everywhere."
"Yes, but you never came and got me."
"You were busy making breakfast."
"For you!" My voice squealed. "I was making breakfast for you!"
Herardo laughed. He may not understand what we were saying, but the exasperated banter of husband and wife was universal. He pointed again.
One of the mama whale's pectoral fins sliced out of the water and rolled through the air.
Herardo slowed the boat and leaned against the center console to watch the show he'd probably seen a thousand times.
As if sensing they had to make up for my years of missed sightings, the humpback and her calf breached, jumped and frolicked in the water for the next 20 minutes while the roasting sun rose higher, and I swore I'd leave the galley more if this was what I'd see.
Patrick fidgeted in the seat beside me, eager to get to the surf spot of our destination. He'd seen plenty of whales. His life on the outside of the boat was much different from mine inside.
"Vámonos!" Herardo swung the panga away from the aquatic Cirque du Soleil and headed for open water.
We sailed past Red Rock Cliffs and Seaside Caves. It wasn't long before the next show started. A school of spotted Pacific dolphin leapt across the bow and raced in our wake. Their white spots flashed in the sunlight as we sped to the wave.
Patrick tossed his board into the water, vaulted over the side and paddled toward shore before Herardo had the anchor down, leaving just the guide and me to divvy up lunch.
Herardo lifted the front hatch of the boat. The rusty hinges squeaked. He pulled a foil-wrapped dish from the ice and held it out to me.I removed the cover and peered inside. The black beans of the gallo pinto had turned the rice a grey color. Flakes of red pepper peeked out from between the grains I'd seen with every meal since we'd arrived in Costa Rica.
"Tu cocina?" I pointed at Herardo hoping I had the right tense but doubted it.
He shook his head and held out another dish. "Mi esposa."
With my broken Spanish and his little English I pieced together the menu his wife had cooked us.I opened the next dish to the sight of ceviche. Tu pesca?His wide toothy smile needed no translation. I knew he'd caught the fish himself.
The tang of lime juice lit up my mouth and punched through the soft delicate fish. The heat of the chilies burned my senses and awakened my hunger. This was spicier than the other versions I'd tasted along the coast.
Turning back to the hatch, he pulled out a coconut and machete. He swung the blade at the coconut, peeling the husk away, then tossed the coconut in the air, caught it and swung again. Hack, toss, twist, hack, toss, twist. He continued until the top of the coconut showed the white meat inside.
I checked to see he still had all his fingers and smiled.
He took the tip of the machete and pierced a hole in the meat of the coconut and handed it to me.I brought the coconut to my lips and drank. The cool water inside beat back the roasting sun and quenched my thirst.
Muy rica I used the Costa Rican term to express how delicious it all was, but Herardo wasn't listening. Instead he pointed at two sea turtles bobbing in the swell. I hung an arm over the side and trailed my fingers through the warm water. Maybe I'd never return to the galley.
As boaters emerge from the cocoon of winter, so begins the social bloom of cruiser potlucks, docktails and dinghy raft-ups celebrating warmer days and the renewal of friendships.
Pulling the ingredients from the pantry, I’m preparing to make my first potluck dish of spring. I let out a chuckle as the memory of our first cruiser potluck comes rushing back. We had just completed our first ocean passage to French Polynesia and were in the process of setting the hook when the VHF radio crackled to life. Battling through the fog of sleep deprivation and the giddy euphoria of making a long-awaited landfall in paradise, I tried to decipher the message relayed by our neighbors in the anchorage.
I had received an invitation from the island’s newly elected chief to be his guests at a luau and was asked if we could we bring a traditional native dish to share. How could we refuse? But what to bring when you’ve been at sea for 32 days and provisions were dipping dangerously low?
Arriving a day earlier, the other boat crews had already baked peanut butter cookies and a pan of brownies. The sun was getting low, and time was short, so we scrambled to cook up our favorite all-American snack — but what to carry it in?
With no time to unpack and lower our dinghy, we hitched a ride to shore with our new neighbors. I could feel the sideways glances as I settled into the dinghy with my potluck contribution contained in a “none-too-chic” big, black, lawn and leaf bag.
Greeted by the islanders, we were ushered along a narrow sandy path to the community bamboo and thatched hut. The woven palm frond mats that blanketed the floor were topped with elephant-ear sized banana leaves serving as tablecloths.
Our communication was limited to broad smiles, head nods and lots of hand gestures as we were introduced to the village elders in the Marquesan tongue. Surveying the sumptuous spread laid out before us, I felt embarrassed at our humble offering as I passed over the duffle-sized plastic bag to the chief.
Once seated on the floor we were encouraged to feast on an overwhelming display of grilled fish, thin slices of raw octopus, coconut rice, thick taro root pudding and a cornucopia of fresh fruit. I was eager to try a little of everything passing my way ... except maybe the jar of Fafaru, which was a local delicacy made by placing chunks of fish in a bucket of seawater that is then left in the sun for a few days to ferment. I guarantee the translation of “Stinky- Fish” was accurate, but it was surprisingly tasty.
Taking in the festive scene, I was astonished to see our unconventional container had somehow migrated to the head of the table. Encircled by a wreath of pink hibiscus flowers as if to highlight its special status, the chief kneeled over the open sack and was personally overseeing the distribution of this strange new cuisine that had made the long journey from the New World to theirs ... and it was evident that our Jolly Time popcorn was a hit.
We had pulled off being Potluck Superstars with popcorn that first time but repeating the feat closer to home proved to be more challenging. On our boat Rogue One, our petite galley consists of a two-burner stove, toaster oven and a small fridge with a freezer perfectly sized for a single ice cube tray and my pint of Rocky Road ice cream.
Although I love a baked spaghetti casserole and grilled ginger chicken wings, I’ve discovered that on our pocket-size ship, simple finger foods made with a few basic ingredients make the perfect fare for a boater’s potluck either onboard, dockside or at a raft-up.
It is customary to bring and share something at any potluck, even if it’s just a bag of chips and dip, but to make the “A-List” and become a Potluck Superstar requires a memorable signature dish created in your own galley.
We first sampled Rum Runner’s Toffee Brittle at a marina potluck in Cartagena, Colombia, and when cruisers were sneaking bits off the tray while the captain was walking up the dock, I knew he had something special. I had to have that recipe and even though it cost me a bottle of Venezuelan rum, this dish has brought us back to celebrity status once again ... and it can do the same for you.
If you have never tried Rum Runner’s Toffee Brittle before, I’m warning you that this yummy concoction is very addictive! It strikes the perfect balance of sweet and salty with just a hint of rum to bring out the sailor in us all. But keep it our secret. With only five ingredients, this recipe is also one of the easiest to pull together and your hot ticket to becoming a Potluck Superstar.
INGREDIENTS
1 sleeve saltine crackers(about 36 crackers)
1 cup of butter (2 sticks)
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
1 shot of spiced dark rum or
1 teaspoon of rum extract
1/3 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
Optional Topping: 1/3 cup chopped pecans, sea-salt
INSTRUCTIONS
Step 1. Preheat oven to 350° F.
Step 2. Line a rimmed cookie sheet with parchment paper. Lay out a single layer of saltine crackers on the cookie sheet.
Step 3. In a saucepan melt the butter and brown sugar over medium-high heat on the stovetop and bring to a rolling boil, then add the rum. Reduce the heat to medium and continue to boil for exactly 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Step 4. Remove from heat and immediately pour the mixture over the cracker layer spreading evenly with a spatula.
Step 5. Place in oven and bake for 5 minutes.
Step 6. Remove from oven and sprinkle with chocolate chips. Allow the chips to soften, then spread evenly over the toffee.
Step 7. If desired, top with chopped nuts and a twist of ground sea salt.
Step 8. Allow the toffee brittle to cool completely (approximately 2 hours) or place sheet in refrigerator to accelerate cooling.
Step 9. Break into bite-sized pieces and enjoy.
“What do we do with a drunken leprechaun? Early in the morning!”
The same way mysteries of mischievous leprechauns in Irish folklore have transcended through time, the original recipe for this drink is also a mystery. A few variations of this St. Patty’s-themed cocktail are served in local pubs, but most of them include its most important ingredient — good ol’ Irish whiskey. Like a fun twist on the Irish Screwdriver, check out our favorite version of this green concoction.
Ingredients:
2 oz Irish Whiskey
1 oz Blue Curaçao
3-4 oz orange juice
Orange wedge(s)
Instructions:
Fill a cocktail glass with ice and add whiskey, Blue Curaçao and orange juice. Stir well and garnish with a fresh orange wedge.
This drink is not Irish, but its green color makes for a perfect St. Patty’s Day drink to enjoy at sea. Using the same ingredients but replacing whiskey with tequila, try another easy twist on the classic recipe for a Tequila Sunrise. Sail off toward the horizon while enjoying this beachy beverage.
Ingredients:
2 oz Blanco Tequila
1 oz Blue Curaçao
3-4 oz orange juice
1 lime and 1 orange wedge
Instructions:
Fill a cocktail glass with ice and add tequila, Blue Curaçao and orange juice. Stir well and garnish with a fresh lime and orange wedge.
For the salty sailor who could use a sweet kick on V-day, this sweet yet tart drink is perfect for your anti-Valentine’s Day party. This ocean-inspired twist on the classic margarita also makes for a perfect waterside cocktail.
1 ½ oz blanco tequila
1 oz Blue Curaçao
¾ oz freshly squeezed lime juice
Splash of orange juice
Kosher salt
1 lime and 1 orange wedge
For a salted rim, fill a small plate with lime juice and swirl your glass rim in it, then dip it into a plate of margarita salt and fill your glass with ice. In a separate cocktail shaker with a light amount of ice, pour in tequila, Blue Curaçao, lime juice and a splash of orange juice. Shake thoroughly and strain into your glass and garnish with a lime or orange.
Also known as “The Isaac,” this romantic red drink was created by original Love Boat cast member Ted Lange, who played Isaac the bartender. Inspired by his signature bright red jacket mixed with the show’s sweet theme, the delicious libation is a perfect Valentine’s Day cocktail for boat lovers.
2 oz white rum
2 oz pomegranate syrup
½ oz fresh lime juice
Splash of club soda
Lime slice(s)
2 pineapple leaf spears
Fill highball glass with ice. In separate cocktail shaker, fill with ice, white rum, pomegranate syrup and lime juice. Shake and strain into highball glass and top it with a splash of club soda. Garnish with a fresh lime slice and two pineapple spears.
*Check out a special segment from Princess Cruises where actor Ted Lange gives a demo of the Love Boat cocktail that debuted on the cruise line in 2015.
Stay up to date with the latest articles, news and all things boating with a FREE subscription to Marinalife Magazine!
