As active seasonal ­cruisers seeking winter warmth, usually in the Bahamas, my husband, Radd, and I have spent many winter holidays aboard our Island Packet 40, Sasha, far away from family and friends back home. We do miss the gatherings and traditions, but no matter where we are, we try to embrace new ways of celebrating—joining local celebrations or attending local services—while preserving a few tried-and-true traditions from our land life. 

Nassau, on New Providence Island in the Bahamas, was the backdrop for one of our most memorable holidays. We arrived a few days before Christmas, got settled, and then set out to explore. That day’s mission was to visit the Bacardi distillery.

In all our cruising ­destinations, when venturing beyond walking distance of our harbor, we always use whatever public transportation is available (if any). Yes, we’re frugal cruisers, but public transport is a great way to interact with local people and absorb the culture. It’s always far more interesting than taking a taxi.

In Nassau, we were lucky: There’s an extensive bus system. New Providence is a fairly large island; if you want to head away from Nassau harbor and the downtown area to the island’s south side (“over the hill,” as the locals say), you must hail a taxi, get a ride or take the bus. 

After ensuring that we were going in the right direction, we asked our friendly bus driver if the Bacardi distillery was on the route. 

“No,” he replied, with a ­sorrowful head shake. Then, his face lit up with a wide smile. “But I’ll take you there.”

And away we went, the only two riders on the bus.

Once we got “over the hill,” we discovered a whole different world: homes with yards, small shopping centers, and no tourists. Eventually, we were out in the country. The driver took us right to the distillery’s entrance. We expressed our heartfelt thanks, and then he asked, “What time do you want me to pick you up?” 

The friendliness and ­courtesy of the Bahamian people are astounding.

After a pleasant tour and, of course, a rum tasting, we emerged with several bottles of Bacardi to restock our near-empty liquor locker on board. Sure enough, our new friend retrieved us at the ­appointed hour, and back “over the hill” we went.

Back on the boat, feeling festive, I formulated a plan. For as long as I can remember, my mom made special cookies for Christmas Eve. They were moist and creamy, with a hint of peanut butter perfectly ­complemented by chocolate centers. She always used packaged Brach’s Chocolate Stars, so we called them Star Cookies.

Of course, she passed down the recipe, one she’d modified through trial and error. I began to gather ingredients on the boat and realized that I had everything but the chocolate stars. It didn’t matter: The cookies are delicious with any small, solid-chocolate candy pieces for the centers. You can use dark chocolate, milk chocolate, even white chocolate.

When Christmas Eve arrived, we rode the city bus again, this time to attend a holiday service at the magnificent 300-year-old Christ Church Cathedral, a Nassau landmark. In yet another demonstration of Bahamian courtesy, a different driver apologized profusely for not being able to take us directly there but promised he’d get us within a short walk. We both wore wide smiles as easy-­listening Christmas carols blared out of the bus speakers. 

Late that night, back aboard Sasha, we feasted on the cookies, along with eggnog spiced with fresh nutmeg and a healthy shot of our recently acquired rum. Turns out it’s possible to be home for the holidays after all.

Star Cookies (yields 30 cookies)

Ingredients:

• 1¾ cups flour
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• ½ tsp. salt
• ¾ cup butter
• ¾ cup creamy peanut butter
• ½ cup sugar plus ½ cup more for rolling 
• ½ cup brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• About 30 small chocolate pieces
• Powdered sugar, for dusting (optional)

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Sift together flour, baking soda and salt. Set aside. 

Cream together butter, peanut butter, ½ cup sugar and ½ cup brown sugar. Add egg and vanilla. Beat well, then mix until consistency is like dough. (It will be slightly wet.) 

Line a cookie sheet with baking paper. With your hands, form the dough into 1½-inch balls (about the size of a ping pong ball), and roll each ball in the remaining ½ cup sugar. Place about 2 inches apart on cookie sheet. 

Bake for 8 minutes. Remove from the oven, place a chocolate piece on each cookie, and press firmly. Return the cookies to the oven and bake for 2 to 5 more minutes, or until the cookies are golden-brown and set. 

Let the cookies cool, and then sprinkle them with powdered sugar, especially if you miss snow. 

Prep time: 1 hour
Difficulty: Medium
Can be made: at anchor

Cook’s Note: 

Use a 1-tablespoon measuring spoon to scoop out raw cookie dough, then roll to shape into balls. A heaping tablespoon makes a perfect-size dough ball.

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.

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We had departed Santa Catalina Island, California, at midnight aboard our Peterson 46, Esprit. It was October, and we were making the 60-plus-nautical-mile passage at night because of a favorable wind forecast. Our destination, Ventura, lay upwind. Winds would be fairly light but enough to avoid motoring the entire way.

 My husband, Mitchell, and I are both originally from a landlocked mountain town: Park City, Utah, which we still call our official home port. We bought Esprit in Panama in 2018, then sailed back to San Francisco Bay, where we could operate charters to earn money for extended cruising. When the pandemic hit, ­charters were no longer an option, so we relocated to Southern California to live aboard and work. We chose Ventura because we had friends there and could easily get into the boat-repair and management business. This industry thrived during the pandemic—a great way to stock the cruising kitty.

Dawn is my favorite watch time on passage. As the sky ­began to brighten, I updated the ship’s log, scanned the horizon once more, and popped down below. My mission: Brew hot coffee and extract a Mason jar from the fridge. In the jar was my “instant” breakfast: a luscious mix of coconut milk, rolled oats, honey, and spice, topped with nuts and fresh fruit. (I often alternate this quick onboard breakfast with an equally delicious “pudding” made with chia seeds.) 

With my mission complete, I settled into the cockpit, enjoyed each bite as the sky turned tangerine, and watched seabirds hunting for their own breakfasts. 

Something big splashed in the distance. Dolphins? I had no one to ask because my crew, consisting of my husband and our cat, were snoozing peacefully down below. Soon, Anacapa Island came into view off the port bow. It’s one of eight islands that make up the Channel Islands archipelago. Five of them, including Anacapa, are national parkland. They are all rugged and pristine, and provide us with challenging and epic cruising grounds. 

In just a few more hours, we’d be back in Ventura Harbor, our temporary home port, before we sailed south to Mexico and beyond.

When it comes to passage-­planning, one of my favorite tasks is figuring out what to eat. We are foodies, and my studies and work background are in nutrition, so there are always fresh, made-from-scratch meals and snacks aboard Esprit.Overnight oats and chia pudding are two of my favorite make-ahead boat breakfasts, and I almost always make a batch or two for passages. Oats have the benefit of being more readily available in markets; they don’t provide quite as much protein as chia seeds, but they’re a great source of filling fiber and quality carbohydrates. (Just add more nuts or seeds to boost protein.) 

There are countless ways to vary each recipe, depending on what you have on hand and what sounds delicious to you. The base is dry rolled oats or chia seeds soaked overnight in coconut milk. (You can use any milk, but I love the tropical taste of the coconut.) You can even combine the chia and oats (see Cook’s Notes). Dress it up with a variety of seasonal fruit, nuts, or seeds for a satisfying, filling breakfast that’s high in protein, fiber, healthy fats, and antioxidants; that’s sure to provide long-lasting fuel for your adventures by sea or land. 

Both recipes will last for several days in the fridge. Consider making a few batches, divided into single-serve containers. This convenient, pre-made breakfast also makes a great snack during passages, or it can be a pretty addition to brunch at anchor with friends. 

Better yet, take time to enjoy a slow morning as I did with this easy, tropical pudding, and transport yourself to paradise, if you’re not already there.

Tropical Breakfast “Pudding” (Serves 2)

For oats:

• 1⁄2 cup dry rolled oats
• 1⁄2 cup (or to taste) coconut or any other milk 

For chia seeds:

• 4 Tbsp. chia seeds
• 1 cup coconut or any other milk
• 1⁄4 tsp. cardamom (optional)
• 1 Tbsp. honey or maple syrup 
• 1 very ripe mango, pureed; or fresh berries, peach or any fruit, diced
• 2 Tbsp. chopped pistachios, ­pumpkin seeds, chopped walnuts or slivered almonds

Combine oats or chia seeds, milk, cardamom, and honey or maple syrup in a small bowl. If using nonhomogenized coconut milk, you first might need to warm it in a ­saucepan to get rid of clumps.

Once combined, divide equally into 2 small Mason jars or other containers. Leave room at the top for fruit. 

Cover and refrigerate overnight, or a minimum of 4 hours, to thicken pudding consistency. 

If using mango, slice and scoop out the flesh. Use a blender or food processor, and blend until smooth. Store in a container in the fridge, and spoon over the mixture once it’s firmed up. If using other fruit, add it to the pudding once it’s firm, or just before eating. 

Top with nuts, and savor.

Prep time: 10 MINUTES, PLUS 4 TO 8 HOURS TO CHILL
Difficulty: EASY
Can be made: AT ANCHOR OR UNDERWAY

Cook’s Notes: 

As a topping, pureed peach is also divine, or a blueberry compote. A good-quality jam is a great substitute if fresh provisions are low. Add a sprinkling of crushed, freeze-dried raspberries or pineapples for extra zing. For oats, a dollop of plain Greek yogurt before adding the fruit is also delicious.

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.

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This would really be a lot easier with stone counters,” I said to my husband as my fingers clawed at the stubborn dough adhered to our galley’s Formica countertops. Chris responded with a wink and a smile, jotting notes for our upcoming galley remodel. 

We’d been living aboard Avocet, our 1979 Cheoy Lee 41, in Southern California for three years, planning to head to Mexico and beyond in the near future. We’d always had an issue with the fridge failing to stay cold, causing the compressor to run nonstop. Ironically, the fridge had been a huge selling point for me because it’s large in comparison to those on other 41-footers. “It fits eight large pizzas” is how Chris describes it. Although we loved the space, we couldn’t ignore the inefficiency, and finally got around to planning a remodel centered on reinsulating the fridge and freezer.

I’m a dedicated baker, so space in the galley is important to me. I grew up watching my mom bake—family recipes that were then handed down to me. In my family, cooking and baking are a love language. Treats are gifted as love letters of sorts, so it’s only natural that I inherited this sentiment. Now I regularly bake for friends and family every chance I get. 

During our remodel, I had the opportunity to make some other key galley upgrades, from simple sink hardware to a new Force 10 oven, but the shining star is the real quartzite stone countertops. Although stone countertops are heavier than Formica, our boat is able to carry the ­additional 150 pounds well because our galley is near the centerline, parallel to our head and above our ­below-cabin-sole diesel. The added weight doesn’t cause us to list (unless one of the water tanks is empty), and the boat sails just as the designers intended—gracefully and relatively quickly.

Stone countertops are a dream surface for bakers. Quartzite is heat-resistant and generally holds an even, consistent temperature, which is important; if the countertop is too warm or too cold, dough will stick to it like glue. Stone also doesn’t need to be treated with chemical sealants, so you can work with dough (or anything) directly on the countertop without worrying about exposing food to toxins. 

When Chris finally packed up his tools and deemed the project complete, the first thing he asked was, “What are you going to bake?” I answered without hesitating, ­simultaneously pulling out the necessary ingredients: “Foolproof Focaccia!”

This recipe is one of my favorites because of how versatile it is. I’ve made it for years aboard Avocet in varying climates, with differing measurements, and even different rest times for the dough. I’m always pleasantly surprised by how tasty the bread is. You can dress it up or down, leave it plain, or add whatever toppings you’d fancy in addition to the standard salt and oil. 

As the dough magically transformed into focaccia in our new oven, the cabin was infused with the tantalizing aroma of fresh, baking bread. Chris and I patiently waited, mouths watering, while we tried our best to stay busy with other tasks until we could dive into the fluffy goodness. Finally, the timer went off. 

The focaccia had a beautiful brown crust, the sign that it’s been baked fully. Carefully, I removed it from the oven and placed the pan directly on our new, scar-proof quartzite counter before transferring it to a cutting board for serving. It was a divine reward for a day spent doing unending boatwork.

Even though I bake this bread for just the two of us, it’s also a surefire crowd-pleaser. Friends often ask me to bring it to potluck raft-ups, dinners and other casual get-togethers. 

Living on a boat and moving around so much means there can be a lot of trial and error with baking, but that also means I have the opportunity to pass down what I’ve learned to other cruisers who find themselves wondering where to start.

Sharing this recipe is my own love letter to my fellow cruising bakers, or wishful bakers, wherever you cruise. I hope you enjoy the warmth and comfort that this classic bread will bring you and yours, wherever you find ­yourself sailing.

Foolproof Focaccia

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1 ⅛ tsp. active dry yeast 
• 1 cup warm water
• 2 Tbsp. olive oil, plus 1-2 Tbsp. additional

Combine flour, salt and yeast in a large bowl, then add warm water. Add 2 Tbsp. olive oil. Stir with a wooden spoon until all the flour is incorporated.

For best results, cover bowl and refrigerate overnight. If you’re impatient (like me) or in a time pinch, let the dough sit out while you clean the galley (20 minutes, but it yields flatter bread) or for 3 to 4 hours or more (for fluffier bread).

Lightly butter a round, 9-inch cake pan, line with parchment paper, and add a tablespoon of olive oil into the center. Form dough into a ball, and coat in the oil. Place dough ball in the center of the pan, cover, and let rest and rise for about 1 hour more.  

Heat the oven to 450 degrees ­Fahrenheit with a rack in the middle. (If your oven doesn’t have a reliable temperature ­setting, get it as hot as you can.)

Drizzle a bit more olive oil on top of the dough, and press down with your ­fingertips to create deep dimples.

Transfer to the oven and bake for 24 to 28 minutes, or until it turns golden brown on top (check periodically). Remove the bread, and let it rest for as long as you can resist it before cutting into it and indulging.

Prep time: 2 hours to overnight
Difficulty: easy
Can be made: at anchor

COOK’S NOTES

Our favorite toppings are cherry ­tomatoes, feta and basil, or tapenade. To keep it ­simple, use an infused olive oil and ­sea-salt flakes. If you do add toppings, first drizzle the dough with olive oil, then add the toppings and press them down lightly into the dough so that they are more incorporated into the bread. 

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.

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We were six aboard Stressbuster, our Greek-designed Atlantic 70, on the day spring arrived.

It was late March; we were under sail in the Gulf of Gökova on Turkey’s Carian Coast. Our guests had joined my husband, Kostas, and me a week before, on the Greek isle of Lesbos, to begin their preseason 28-day charter. The plan was to meander slowly south through Greece’s easternmost Dodecanese islands, with a short foray into Turkey before ending the trip back in Greece. 

Claudia, who’d booked the boat, was an experienced Lake Superior captain and boat owner with roots in southern New England. She was gathering local knowledge while hatching a plan to retire and sail the Aegean a few years hence. “I want a real cruise,” she’d said with a grin, “not a relay race.” She’d asked a few adventurous friends to join her.

The weather so far had been cold, damp and cloudy. Sailing south, we kept warm with hot drinks and conversation. Cockpit discussions often included ­questions for our crew about Greek history and culture.

“What’s the significance of the ­pomegranate in Greece?” someone asked. “I see the symbol and the actual trees everywhere.”

“Ah, the pomegranate,” Kostas answered, leaping at the chance to expound on two of his favorite topics: Greek history and mythology. “It was Persephone’s fruit. She was the goddess of spring and new life, but also queen of the underworld and death. Every year, when she emerged to spend six months aboveground, spring came. When she returned to the underworld, all plants died and it turned to winter.” 

“Evidently, she’s still underground,” someone said with a smirk.

That day, we were bound for Castle Island, home of Cleopatra’s Beach (yes, that Cleopatra). None of us had yet shed our fleece jackets and long pants. As we ate a quick lunch underway, clouds melted away to dazzling sunshine, blue skies and a warm, 12-knot breeze. 

“Persephone heard you,” Claudia said, peeling off her jacket. One by one, ­fleeces fell. Faces turned toward the warmth. Eyes closed, all aboard were lulled into sleepy silence by the riffs of gentle wind and the swish of the hull through the sea.

A soft splash came from abeam. 

“Dolphins!” I screeched, shattering the peace. 

Around me, guests launched into a full-tilt boogie. I headed to the bow, like a mama duck with charter ducklings following. Behind me, I heard: “Where’s my camera?” and “Oh my God, this is awesome!” followed by various attempts to engage with the animals: woos, clicks, soprano la-las, and mangled attempts at wolf whistles.

By the time the dolphins veered away in choreographed unison, we were approaching Castle Island. We dropped anchor in an empty Cleopatra’s Bay, surrounded only by olive trees, pines, and the scattered remains of ancient structures ashore. The queen’s beach was on the windward side, a short hike across the island. We dinghied in to explore it. 

Ashore, it appeared deserted. A small concession shack was closed tight. 

Cleopatra’s Beach was a pristine stretch of deserted white sand with wooden walking platforms. Evidently, the extravagant queen spent considerable time here, and ordered sand brought in by ship from Africa so that her lover, Anthony, could sunbathe in style. Scholars have since confirmed that the sand is not local. The sea looked inviting. It was deceptive. From the corner of my eye, I caught a sudden movement.

“I have to swim here,” Claudia said as she streaked toward the water. “It’s Cleopatra’s Beach!” 

A splash and a beat later: “Holy crap, it’s cold!” 

Back on the boat, the time was edging toward cocktail hour.

“I need a Cape Codder,” Claudia said, referring to the popular New England cocktail made with vodka and cranberry juice. “I have a craving. That cold swim did it.”

We didn’t have cranberry juice, but we did have pomegranate juice, which is sold all over Greece. Similar in taste to cranberry, it’s tart; better with a little sweetener such as apple juice or dilution with club soda, but very refreshing.

“How ’bout vodka and pomegranate juice?” I suggested. “We can call it a Persephone.”

Claudia volunteered to bartend, and we put our heads together to create the delicious cocktail below. In honor of the Greek goddess who’d served up this perfect first day of spring, we christened it Persephone’s Potion.

“To Greek goddesses and Egyptian queens,” someone said as we raised our glasses. The answer was a unanimous, “Hear, hear!”

Persephone’s Potion (serves 1)

• 1 jigger vodka or rum (1.5 ounces, or to taste)
• 2 parts pomegranate juice
• 2 parts sweet apple juice
• Generous splash orange juice
• Splash club soda

For garnish:

• 1 sweet red apple
• 1 green apple
• 1 orange
• Fresh mint, if available

Prep the fruit: Core apples. Halve the fruit, and cut into thin slices. Set aside.

Fill a large cocktail glass with ice. Add vodka or rum. Add pomegranate juice and apple juice; stir. Add a splash of orange juice and a splash of club soda. Stir again, and garnish glass with a half-slice each of apples and orange. Add a sprig of fresh mint, if available. 

Serve with bowls of salty nuts, and ­consume garnish. The salty-sweet flavor combo is delightful.

Prep time: 5 minutes
Difficulty: Easy
Can be made: At anchor

Cook’s notes

This cocktail doesn’t require ­precise measures. You can pour by eye, taste, and then adjust the ingredients ­accordingly. If you abstain or just aren’t in the mood for alcohol, this makes an equally delicious mocktail.

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.

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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.

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On Halcyon, our Valiant 40, my partner, Justin, and I eat tacos at least twice a week, sometimes more. Before the two of us met in Hawaii, I’d spent years sailing the world as cook and first mate aboard boats of all sizes, power and sail. I’d also sailed in the World ARC Rally, and earned my RYA Master and 100-ton US Coast Guard licenses. Justin, a fellow captain, shares my love of Mexican cuisine. We soon we discovered that we also shared a dream: sailing the world in our own boat. 

We found the Valiant 40 for sale in Tahiti. It needed work, but we knew how to do it, and the price for this Bob Perry-designed bluewater cruiser was low. In Tahiti, we spent time on the hard doing repairs and learning the boat’s systems. The boat’s name was Halcyon. Perfect. Our plan was to live those halcyon days right now.

Those days included tacos. During my years as paid cook, making meals for people with varying food preferences, I realized that tacos, in addition to being inexpensive and easy, have another plus. Made with soft tortillas, either flour or corn, rather than hard-shell tacos, they’re versatile—a blank canvas each cook can fill with whatever’s preferred (or on hand). You can build tacos from beef, chicken or fish, or make them vegetarian. For a crowd, you can create a fill-your-own-taco bar. No matter the circumstance or the filling, tacos are always a huge hit. 

Recipes are more than lists of ingredients. They evoke memories: that beautiful anchorage where you savored the meal and the moment with friends, or the storm you weathered before eating a one-pot stew that was the best you ever tasted. 

My fish tacos, born during the ARC Rally, always resurrect a memory. In Samoa, we’d taken aboard two fellow ARC sailors after their catamaran sustained damage in a violent squall. While their boat was hauled out in American Samoa for repair, they’d decided to sail with us as far as Tonga and Fiji before heading home to Australia to regroup. One of them, unaccustomed to the sea motion of a monohull, suffered from seasickness. A behind-the-ear patch seemed to do the trick.

Near the end of our passage to Fiji, we snagged a beautiful mahi-mahi. I had fresh ingredients for salsa, and some soft tacos in the freezer. That day’s catch became that night’s fish-taco feast. But after landfall in Fiji the next day, we were celebrating our arrival with a cold bottle of wine when our ailing guest piped up: “Are we eating the mahi-mahi for dinner tonight?”

Recipes evoke memories: that beautiful anchorage where you savored the meal, or the storm you weathered before eating a warm one-pot stew.

We exchanged puzzled glances. That’s when I noticed her ear patch: There were two of them. She had cut the patch in two and placed half behind each ear, which is not recommended, as it can lead to faulty dosing and possible side effects, including confusion. 

“Do you remember eating the fish tacos last night?” I asked. (She didn’t.) The patch halves were promptly dispatched to the waste bin. 

For the rest of that voyage, the crew jokingly called that meal “forgettable fish tacos.” But, like them, I still remember that passage and that sea tale every time I eat them. Definitely not forgettable.

Blackened Fish Tacos With Pico de Gallo Salsa (makes 8 tacos)

For the salsa

• 3 Roma tomatoes or small local
  tomatoes, diced 
• 1 Tbsp. jalapeño, diced (fresh or canned)
• ½ cup onion, diced
• Juice of one lime
• 2 tsp. sea salt
• ½ cup fresh cilantro, chopped 

Seed tomatoes before dicing; if using fresh jalapeno, remove seeds. Combine all ingredients well, and let sit for 20 minutes to let flavors develop.

For the tacos

• 2 tsp. paprika
• 1 tsp. each: onion powder, garlic powder, thyme, cayenne pepper, black pepper, salt
• (or simply substitute your favorite pre-made blackening spice mix)
• 1 pound mahimahi or other firm white fish
• Cooking oil, for frying
• 2 cups purple cabbage 
• ¼ cup unsalted pumpkin seeds 
• 1 tsp. sea salt
• 8  small soft flour or corn tortillas 

Combine spices in a small bowl. Set aside. Cut fish into 1-by-4-inch strips. Blot with paper towel to remove excess moisture. Sprinkle spice mix onto both sides of strips. 

Heat an oiled skillet to medium. Cook fish strips for approximately 2 minutes on each side. Set aside and let rest for 5 minutes. (If you have a food thermometer, the internal temperature should read 145 degrees Fahrenheit.)

While the fish rests, cut the cabbage into thin strips. Set aside. 

Heat a small, dry skillet to medium. Add pumpkin seeds and heat briefly. Add sea salt to the skillet. Gently move the seeds back and forth in the skillet until they’re tinged light brown. 

Warm the tortillas briefly in a pan or microwave. Place a few fish strips on each tortilla. Top with salsa. Finish with a pinch of chopped purple cabbage and a sprinkle of roasted pumpkin seeds. Serve with extra lime wedges, salsa, and shredded cabbage on the side..

Prep time: 45 minutes
Difficulty: easy
Can be made: underway or at anchor

Cook’s Notes: For vegetarian tacos, boil 1 cup dried lentils in 2½ cups water for 5 minutes, or until liquid is absorbed. Season with 1 Tbsp. each: cumin, chili powder, oregano and garlic powder, and 2 tsp. apple cider vinegar. Add ½ cup canned sweet corn, ½ cup canned black or white beans, salt, and pepper. Stir. Fill tortillas and top with diced tomato, avocado, a squeeze of lime juice, and shredded cheese.

The post Sailor & Galley: Tacos Any Day, Any Way appeared first on Cruising World.

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.

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.

No question about it: Bareboat charters and hamburgers go together. Most bareboats have a barbecue grill in the cockpit (they’re scarce in Europe, so check first), and grilling is perfect for no-fuss dinners that keep galley time to a minimum and let you to enjoy the sunset outdoors.

But the grill is a system like any others on a boat. It needs to be used and maintained safely.  

For starters, spend as much time having the check-out crew show you how to operate the grill as they do showing you the engine. Nearly every charter company has done away with charcoal (oh, the horror of live coals!) in favor of propane. Before you leave the check-out dock, have them light the grill to make sure it heats properly, and be sure you have enough propane for the duration of your adventure. Make sure the grill is bolted solidly to the rail so that you don’t feed dinner to the fishies. Also ask if any marinas in your planned cruising area prohibit grill usage; some have safety rules at the dock.

Barbecuing aboard is far different from grilling at home. Your backyard isn’t rolling with passing wakes, and you likely have no stray lines near the home grill, let alone a Bimini top. Safety for the crew and boat is your first concern, followed by perfect burgers, steaks or fish. Never—ever—try to grill while the boat is underway. That’s just asking for trouble. And if you have a flare-up (did you remember to trim all the excess fat from the meat?), a spray bottle with water can knock down the flame. On many grills, simply closing the lid will put out any flares.

Every grill has its own personality, with hot spots, cold spots, being fast or slow to heat, or just plain being cantankerous. Unless you bring a mitt, potholders, a meat thermometer and tongs, you should not expect to find them on board. 

While many propane grills have temperature gauges, trust me on this: You can’t trust them. Better to use the “Mississippi test.” Hold your hand 3 to 4 inches above the hot grill and count one Mississippi… two Mississippi…. Two to three Mississippis before you have to remove your hand is high temp for burgers. Medium is three to four Mississippis, and low heat is six to 10. Propane barbecues should be heated long enough so that the meat sears when it’s placed on the grill.

Want to start a fight? Ask people whether meat should be flipped during cooking. Some chefs say you should flip meat at least twice so that the sear will keep the juices inside and the food won’t end up welded to the grill. But flipping continually is also the easiest way to create a dry burger or steak. If you think something is cooking too fast, just move it to the outside of the grill, where the heat is lower. 

Burgers have a tendency to grow upward as they cook, and some chefs try to smash them flat with a spatula. No! Goodbye, juices. Instead, pat them gently. Don’t make them too thin. Make a little dent in the center of each patty before you start grilling, and the problem is solved. That dent also gives you a spot to add some zip with a splash of Worcestershire sauce, which soaks in quickly and gives a distinctive flavor.  

After placing food on the grill, close the lid to circulate the heat evenly—but never leave the grill unattended. Don’t get sucked into watching another boat trying to anchor, or go to fix yourself something rummy and cold.  

And with burgers, don’t forget the bun. It’s hard to beat fresh-from-a-Bahamas-bakery buns. Lightly coat them with butter on the grill side, and watch them like a hawk so that they don’t turn to charcoal. French brioche buns with high egg/butter content are delish, as are toasted onion rolls.

Want to start another fight? Ask someone about seasonings. For burgers, we’ve been successful with a little Kosher or sea salt, ground black pepper, perhaps a dash of garlic powder, all rubbed gently into the meat before grilling. My wife swears by Cavender’s Greek seasoning, which is a good substitute for salt and pepper. Bring it with you because it’s not available everywhere.  

Don’t stop at grilling burgers or steaks. Throw some veggies on the barbie too. Grilled fruit is the new dessert. Grilled watermelon or pineapple is a delight. Brush slices lightly with olive oil, grill for five to six minutes, and turn once. Yum. The same goes for grilled onions or peppers (seasoned with herbs). Or brush peach slices with amaretto, grill two minutes a side, and serve with whipped cream. Mmm. 

As for how long to keep all these things on the grill, the correct answer is: not too long. Grill heat, burger thickness, a breeze blowing—these all affect the cooking time. Instead of using a stopwatch, look for the burger to get juicy or “sweat” on top. At that point, flip the patty, check the time, and cook one or two minutes less than the first side. Cheeseburgers? Add the cheese with about two minutes to go, and close the lid to melt the cheese. 

One last warning: A barbecue takes surprisingly long to cool off, so keep fingers, kids and canvas items far away until it is truly cold. Pay attention to your barbecue and grill safety, and you’ll find yourself humming Jimmy Buffett’s “Cheeseburger in Paradise.”

The post Tips For Barbecue Cooking While on Charter appeared first on Cruising World.

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).

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