Friends and Food Afloat

by Sandra Thoma

Hello?” Roy answers his iPhone and sets it on the galley floor between our knees.

The sweet Texas accents of our friends Scoot and Cookie came over the speaker: “Is the invitation to go sailing with y’all still open?”

The Origo stove we’d cooked on for a decade sat in the cockpit next to the new-but-not-yet-installed Force 10 propane replacement. Our Catalina 36, Tranquility, lay in disarray with tools everywhere.

“One sec,” I pushed the mute button and looked at my husband like a deer in headlights. “The boat is a mess.”

My husband gave a half shrug. “It’s Cookie and Scoot.” I suffer from the “sailing problem”, and Roy suffers an

“aviation addiction”. His affliction is so significant that he’s built his own airplane. Cookie and Scoot also built and fly a plane like ours. A few years ago, we flew our homebuilt airplanes to the Caribbean together. Cookie and Scoot guided us through the maze of Customs clearances, fueling procedures, and technical navigation over the open ocean.

We’d become fast friends and travel companions, which is why I unmuted the iPhone, and we set a sailing date.

Roy grinned from ear to ear. “Scoot and Cookie are coming!”

I wondered where we’d put extra fenders, lines, a box of dry goods, and crab traps stuffed in the stern berth. And we’d need a menu.

A week later, the new stove sparkled in the galley, the stern berth was made up, and the fridge held neatly stacked provisions. Cookie and Scoot merrily danced aboard on a perfect July day and we wasted no time getting underway.

Cookie's buoyant head of auburn hair bounced this way and that as she watched Roy and I cast off lines. Scoot, with his calm blue eyes, watched me prepare to unfurl the sails in the wind shadow of Reef Island in West Sound.

“We can haul lines,” he kneeled behind the starboard winch.

“Absolutely,” Cookie grabbed the outhaul for the main. “Our Hunter was rigged a lot like your boat.”

“I forgot you owned a sailboat.”

“Put ‘em to work,” Roy laughed. “They’re younger and in better shape than we are.” Cookie and Scoot were both trim and athletic, in mid-summer shorts and T-shirts. Roy and I, in contrast, are both post-middle-age, with good food-and-beer bodies, covered in PNW long-sleeved shirts and jeans.

Tranquility's bow fell away from the wind, and her shoulder settled in on a close reach. Roy pulled the engine shut-off.

Cookie sighed, “I love the sound of water over the hull.”

“Oh, yeah,” Scoot leaned back to admire the sails.

Roy had the helm well in hand, so I slipped down to the galley to make lunch. I pulled out the griddle, turned on the new Force 10, and watched foam splash along the hull out the porthole window.

I listened to Roy describe the islands. “That’s Jones off our beam, and ahead is Waldron. We’ll leave Waldron to starboard.”

Cookie leaned over the rail. “The water is so blue-green.”

I felt a burble of joy as as thick, buttery slices of bread turned

golden brown. I stacked on Swiss cheese, sautéed green onions, fresh crab, and sliced avocado. Around Point Doughty, I handed up plates and traded Roy for the helm.

Scoot stared at his plate for a moment. “You didn’t say you were making us gourmet food. I expected peanut butter and jelly.”

“I caught the crab yesterday,” Roy puffed his chest just a bit, and I may have as well. I loved the delight on our friends' faces as we shared a meal made possible by the bounty of the Salish Sea.

The delight continued in Shallow Bay, on Sucia Island. There’s a reason the island is called the 'Jewel of the San Juans'.

“This place is magical. The sandstone formations are so... surreal.” Cookie stood on deck next to me. “Like brown playdough sticking out of the sea.”

As we stood together, I noticed a west breeze from the entrance to the bay, and I momentarily forgot about the scenery in favor of establishing marks ashore — lest we drag anchor.

That night the wind turned to a foul-tempered blow. A bright light flashing across the inside of our berth woke me with a start. I was up in a heartbeat, but couldn’t get out of the V-berth. Roy was next to me, shoulder pinned against mine.

“What are you doing?” I struggled to get past him.

“Putting my pants on.”

“Let me out.”

“After I get my pants on.”

“No time.” I pushed past him, flew up the companionway, and hop-skipped to the foredeck. The yellow sloop next to us was moving. Our anchor light reflected off her skipper’s billowing red foul weather jacket as she slid close to our bow.

“Holy moly,” Roy yelled from behind me.

My P.J.’s threatened to blow off at any second, but I didn’t care. “Start the engine,” I yelled back. Running lights of two or three other boats moved about the bay, and headed in the direction of the entrance — or now the exit. I rested my palm on our anchor line. No vibration. Just taut. Enough moonlight

scattered through the clouds for me to check our position marks ashore. We’d moved, but not much.

I stepped back to the cockpit and slid an arm around Roy’s waist. “I think we’re okay.” We killed the engine and watched the wind-swept water and scudding clouds in silent awe.

“That was exciting,” Roy shook his head.

“Too exciting.”

The next morning Scoot and Cookie woke with bright, wellrested faces. Scoot accepted a cup of coffee from my hands. “Is the weather always like this here? Blue sky and breeze perfect for sailing.”

I felt bleary-eyed. “In summer. Did the commotion wake you last night?”

“Commotion?” Cookie shook her head. “Earplugs... Slept like a bug in a rug.” Earplugs. Of course. Harrumph.

Roy noticed the baking pan I’d pulled out and stepped in to help with breakfast. It’s truly hard to stay grumpy over a piping hot dish of custard-y oats and blackberries. Any lingering grumpiness dissipates when your friends are sailing the boat so smoothly you can sit on the bow and enjoy the refreshing rhythm of wind waves and sunny salt spray.

We sailed to Stuart Island after breakfast and dropped the hook in Prevost Harbor. I worried for a bit about scope and the weather forecast, but was soon distracted by wondering whether I'd bought all the right ingredients for Roy’s Crab Pasta recipe. Then, I donned my wetsuit and dipped off Tranquility's swim ladder and washed away the tiredness and worry in the crisp water. Cookie swayed happily in the hammock strung on the bow. Roy and Scoot poured beer from an Island Hoppin’ Brewery growler and gabbed about airplanes to their heart's content.

After my swim, the aroma of lemon and cracked crab and sautéed garlic wafted up to my nose as I toweled off.

“Smells wonderful,” I leaned over and kissed my hubby.

“Having a good day?” He winked at me.

“Yes. Very good day.”

Sailboats require work. Hosting friends aboard takes effort. The reward at the other end of the work and effort is joy, and lots of it. Good food and, more importantly, the sharing of good food with friends aboard — it is love and gratitude all folded into one delicious dish.

You can use any fruit here instead of or in combination with the berries. Cubed apples or pears, bananas, pineapple, or even mango will add sweet juiciness to the mix. And for something even richer, serve this doused in heavy cream.

2 to 4 tablespoons melted butter, to taste 3 cups berries (blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, or a combination) 2 cups oatmeal (not instant) 1 cup toasted, unsalted almonds, coarsely chopped 1 teaspoon baking powder ¾ teaspoon salt 2 cups milk (or substitute coconut or almond milk) 2 large eggs ½ cup turbinado sugar or brown sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla extract ¼ teaspoon grated nutmeg

4 Tablespoons butter 4 Tablespoons olive oil 1/4 cup minced shallots 1-2 cloves minced garlic 1 red jalapeño, seeded and sliced thin Juice of 1/2 lemon, plus 1 Tablespoon of zest 1/4 to 1/2 cup fresh mint, gently chopped Fresh ground pepper About 12 oz linguine, enough to serve 4 people

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees 2. Generously butter a 9x13-inch baking dish 3. Spread berries in the bottom of a baking dish 4. In a small bowl, whisk together oatmeal, almonds, baking powder, and salt (do this the night before to save steps in the morning) 5. In a large bowl, whisk together melted butter, milk, eggs, sugar, vanilla, and nutmeg. 6. Stir the oat mixture into milk mixture, then pour it over the berries, shaking the baking dish to evenly distribute liquid and oats. 7. Bake until firm and pale golden, 35 to 45 minutes Serve warm. (In late summer, we pick blackberries ashore for this recipe.)

1. Cook pasta until al dente. Drain, but save 1 cup of the cooking liquid 2. In a large skillet (as large as the boat stove will hold) sauté the shallots, garlic, and pepper in 2 tablespoons of butter and 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Cook until just fragrant. Add the pasta and about 1/4 of the reserved cooking liquid and half the lemon juice. Toss until the pasta is shiny and most of the liquid is absorbed. 3. Add the rest of the lemon juice, half the mint, and about half the remaining cooking liquid. Stir until pasta mixture for 3-5 minutes, until coated and the sauce takes on a creamy consistency. Add cooking liquid as needed, if the mixture gets dry. 4. Toss the crab in during the last couple of minutes of cooking. 5. Divide into bowl, and garnish with remaining mint and lemon zest and ground pepper.

A former columnist for Fresh Water News, Sandra Thoma has spent the last twenty years sailing the Columbia River and the Salish Sea. She and her Husband currently live aboard their Catalina 36 Tranquility and enjoy making great food and friends while cruising.