It's tough to keep crew morale up. Working seven days a week, nothing but service, little free time, and constant slavery to the details of boat life all tend to keep fuses short and nerves frazzled. To make matters worse the ship ran out of water last night. Well, "ran out" in this case actually meant that we had only 900 gallons out of 8,000 gallons left. Apparently on the Safari Explorer 900 gallons left is equivalent to empty for whatever mystical mechanical reasons. So the bridge crew and chief engineer got up early to make a B-line for Petersburg and dockside water. There was enough of a trickle coming out to boil potatoes for BBQ lunch (best done early), make oatmeal and Glacier Bay Porridge, but dishes had to wait. Though I don't see a lot of what goes on down in the galley, I'm sure plenty of tempers flared at the whole debacle, especially based on the crew meeting we had later that day.
I ran some errands in Petersburg; bought fish, toothpaste, ordered menu paper, picked up an invoice for Shelly from Viking Travel, and most importantly, procured some party favors for the crew rave we were planning. As fate would have it, the Rexall Drug Store had a whole bunch of Dora the Explorer party hats, napkins, paper plates, treat bags, and a Diego and Boots centerpiece - all half price. So Dora the Explorer has become the Safari Explorer's unofficial mascot. She's been living on top of the burn kit in the galley. About the size of a baby, with a permanent watermelon smile and kickin hair locks, she's brought good juju to the ship, and lo and behold she helped turn a slap-dash crew rave into a themed event. So how perfect is that?
The passengers were celebrating the 11th birthday of one of the kids, even setting up a poker night, and Shelly spent all afternoon making a stunningly perfect and beautiful birthday cake. With green, blue, and pink frosting, she sculpted three chocolate cake rounds into three perfect poker chips with a big stylized "11" on the top. With 11 sparkler candles on top it was a truly impressive sight. Meanwhile, Ang carried the prep work for the day as usual, giving me time to finish consolidating and updating my i-Pod, after which I was able to create a 3.6 hour Galley Rave playlist - all hip-hop, mostly from Angie's i-Pod. The BBQ buffet didn't get broken down until 3:30 pm since all the male passengers came back late from their morning fishing charter. We've got the little Halibut the boys caught downstairs on ice, and since I spent all of my free time preparing for the Galley Rave, I still have no idea how I'm going to prepare it for them (probably smoke it and serve it with some kind of rice - saffron? - for lunch). Even though it's now midnight, and I'm typing instead of sleeping, I'm going to have to get up at 5:30 in the morning just to make sure I'm not in the weeds all day long.
After dinner was served (Ribs are the kid's favorite and some huge Alaskan Weathervane Scallops I picked up in Petersburg) and clean-up was mostly done, Galley Rave preperations began in earnest. Shelly assembled the Diego Centerpiece and then began blowing up balloon/bubble things (a little kit I bought that is basically a tube of rubber cement with tubes for blowing through). We got dolled up (hopefully I'll get some photos on this blog - wireless willing). Chilled the non-alcoholic beers, and put pizzas in the oven. Can't get delivery, so we settled for DeGiorno. At this point, I couldn't stand waiting any longer, so the Galley Rave Mix began bumping at loud volumes. Trash bags went up over the lights we couldn't turn out. Darkness was important because of the other key element of a galley rave; all three of the boats I've worked on have emergency strobe lights of some kind. So I gathered three of the floating, self-activating strobes attached to the life-rings. They're designed to turn on any time the unit is pointing floaty end up any more than horizontal. Once the lights were killed, we hung the strobes from the ceiling, got out the leftover silly string from the birthday party, and waited by the door to spray each crew member coming down to the party. Once they were provided a Dora or Diego party hat, they were offered near-beer and pizza and thus the party began. Until Gabe came down I was the only boy crew member there, trying to keep the party live by dancing around all the wall flowers. Everyone had a great time and thus our goal was accomplished. And what a mess. But Ang, Shelly, Lisa, and I cleaned up everything and finished up dishes.
As we were finishing up, I made my way up to the ledo deck for a smoke (a must with non-alcoholic beer) and was greeted by a handful of humpback whales swimming around the boat. I could tell they had caught the rave vibe by their proximity and the frequency of their festive sounding blow-hole blowings. Clearly we're blessed and blessing the waters we rest in.
Good night.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Quite A Day
Last night they didn't like my Two Fish in Phyllo. The carrots were very disappointing as well. I've done this kind of thing long enough that I can let it go pretty easily, though it always stings when you put your heart into your work and come up short of the mark. Better veg, plainer better cooked fish; heard. As I was printing out menus for the next day that night, the Glacier Bay Ranger came up to me. "You the chef?" he asked. Yes. "Well I'd just like to shake your hand. I don't know how you do it, but this is the second week I've gotten to come onboard and I just wanted to say thank you. I love to cook, but I could never cook for this many people, and I'll tell ya', you just make everything perfect all the time. Perfectly cooked, perfectly seasoned. I don't know how you do it. Thank you." Funny how the universe sometimes speaks to you through other people. Because, honestly, as confident as I am in my profession, there is nothing to drag your heart down like having the better part of a whole family send the message that they were disappointed in your food. So thank you ranger. Because you said that, I was able to push past the oopsies and charge into today with that Tiger Woods calm confidence. If you believe in yourself and believe in your passion, then you have a whole lot more love available to put into your work.
I definitely needed all that love today. Breakfast and lunch were fairly routine. I caught an hour and a half nap and had not too much work to do when I woke up. Angie has been working a lot and being very productive, even more than usual, because she's leaving for some much needed time off on Friday, and she knows we'll miss having all her help everyday. I've done the same thing; giving as much as you can to your crew-mates before you leave since you know they have to keep working after you leave. You're the lucky one, so you ante up a little more.
Everything was smooth tonight until about ten minutes before service. I was putting finishing touches on Blueberry Cabernet Reduction for the Baked Halibut, and finishing off the Coconut Curry Butternut Squash Soup, when Shelly walked up behind me and directed my attention to the floor. A cloudy pool of water was starting to flow out from under the oven (which is pretty much fixed now by the way). Ang yelled up to Dani, our Hotel Manager, to go get one of the engineers immediately. You see, under the prep counter next to the range is a big hole where all the dishwater and prep sink water goes into. The drains on them are so low that the waste water has to go down there, and when it reaches a certain level, an electric pump kicks on and sends the water to the regular waste water tank. Well, the pump wasn't doing its job for some reason. Since the dishwasher was still running, and none of us thought to turn it off, the pool quickly became a lake. A few minutes later, Eric and Kevin came down with loads of rags, buckets, a siphon, and a wet-vac to begin cleaning and fixing. Meanwhile, soup garnish is prepared, Halibut goes in the oven, and dishes start piling up. Phone rings. "Galley swim center." "Hey galley, this is the bridge, we've got humpback whales, so dinner has to wait." "Heard." Halibut comes back out of the oven, soup goes into a cambro to be reheated in the microwave, and amidst the dirty chaos, the chef can't think of anything better to do than get a crew plate and fill it with that nights crew chew - mini corn dogs, fries, and some brilliant (if I do say so myself) homemade buttermilk ranch dressing. Extra garlic salt and a dash of Maggi seasoning is the key. A half hour later I make my way up to see some humpback whales bubble-net feeding, a rare and most spectacular thing, and something I've probably already written about at some point. On the way back I notice some people sitting down ready to eat. Dani gives us the green light, and the Halibut goes back in the oven, along with the duck breast, which is much better hot than warm. Phone rings. "Hey Galley, this is the bridge again, the whales are bubble-netting right next to the bow, so we're going to watch a few more minutes then move on." "Heard, thank you bridge." Oi.
Halibut stays in the oven this time. The little one wants some carrots. The older one wants mushy vegetables. No problem. Special order vegetarian pasta comes out, along with White and Brown Rice Pilaf with Scallions and Cranberries (no pistachios because of three nut allergies). "Hey Phil, is there any butter in the Blueberry sauce, cause one of the passengers just told me he's lactose intolerant now," says Gabe the Stew/Server. "Really? Wow, that's the second one today. Hey Angie, we need to start making wheat bread." "Heard." "Um, you know Gabe, I'm just not going to put any butter in the sauce tonight. I'll have to rework it a little, but we should be fine." "Fire all tickets," comes the call from upstairs and plating begins and is finished quickly tonight. Gee the floors look clean tonight. "Extra side of Duck Cacciatore." "Duck coming up the Dumbwaiter." "Extra side of fish." "Coming, hold on." Wow, they must like me again tonight. "Hey Phil, everyone's happy with everything up there." "What did they say?" "I asked if this is what they wanted and they said 'yes, it looks fantastic.' "Woooo-hoooo."
Dessert goes out - Angie's latest magical little treat - Chocolate Panna Cotta (really it's chocolate milk jello, but don't tell her I blabbed). Phone rings. "Hey Galley this is the bridge, is it OK if we have orcas off the bow." "Of course, desserts gone out already - they're [the passengers] are all yours." "Thanks galley." "No problem."
Later, up on the Ledo deck, I saw some orcas mating (or so I was told later) and about a half a dozen times there was a breeching orca that showed us his/her whole glorious form by jumping clean out of the water. I got to talk to Carey on the phone (just enough reception for a decent conversation) while watching the spectacle. She could hear the squeals of the passengers every time something incredible happening. We were also blessed by one of the orcas near the ship squeaking hello very loudly out of his/her blow-hole. Sounded like flipper. Very cool. Heard.
I definitely needed all that love today. Breakfast and lunch were fairly routine. I caught an hour and a half nap and had not too much work to do when I woke up. Angie has been working a lot and being very productive, even more than usual, because she's leaving for some much needed time off on Friday, and she knows we'll miss having all her help everyday. I've done the same thing; giving as much as you can to your crew-mates before you leave since you know they have to keep working after you leave. You're the lucky one, so you ante up a little more.
Everything was smooth tonight until about ten minutes before service. I was putting finishing touches on Blueberry Cabernet Reduction for the Baked Halibut, and finishing off the Coconut Curry Butternut Squash Soup, when Shelly walked up behind me and directed my attention to the floor. A cloudy pool of water was starting to flow out from under the oven (which is pretty much fixed now by the way). Ang yelled up to Dani, our Hotel Manager, to go get one of the engineers immediately. You see, under the prep counter next to the range is a big hole where all the dishwater and prep sink water goes into. The drains on them are so low that the waste water has to go down there, and when it reaches a certain level, an electric pump kicks on and sends the water to the regular waste water tank. Well, the pump wasn't doing its job for some reason. Since the dishwasher was still running, and none of us thought to turn it off, the pool quickly became a lake. A few minutes later, Eric and Kevin came down with loads of rags, buckets, a siphon, and a wet-vac to begin cleaning and fixing. Meanwhile, soup garnish is prepared, Halibut goes in the oven, and dishes start piling up. Phone rings. "Galley swim center." "Hey galley, this is the bridge, we've got humpback whales, so dinner has to wait." "Heard." Halibut comes back out of the oven, soup goes into a cambro to be reheated in the microwave, and amidst the dirty chaos, the chef can't think of anything better to do than get a crew plate and fill it with that nights crew chew - mini corn dogs, fries, and some brilliant (if I do say so myself) homemade buttermilk ranch dressing. Extra garlic salt and a dash of Maggi seasoning is the key. A half hour later I make my way up to see some humpback whales bubble-net feeding, a rare and most spectacular thing, and something I've probably already written about at some point. On the way back I notice some people sitting down ready to eat. Dani gives us the green light, and the Halibut goes back in the oven, along with the duck breast, which is much better hot than warm. Phone rings. "Hey Galley, this is the bridge again, the whales are bubble-netting right next to the bow, so we're going to watch a few more minutes then move on." "Heard, thank you bridge." Oi.
Halibut stays in the oven this time. The little one wants some carrots. The older one wants mushy vegetables. No problem. Special order vegetarian pasta comes out, along with White and Brown Rice Pilaf with Scallions and Cranberries (no pistachios because of three nut allergies). "Hey Phil, is there any butter in the Blueberry sauce, cause one of the passengers just told me he's lactose intolerant now," says Gabe the Stew/Server. "Really? Wow, that's the second one today. Hey Angie, we need to start making wheat bread." "Heard." "Um, you know Gabe, I'm just not going to put any butter in the sauce tonight. I'll have to rework it a little, but we should be fine." "Fire all tickets," comes the call from upstairs and plating begins and is finished quickly tonight. Gee the floors look clean tonight. "Extra side of Duck Cacciatore." "Duck coming up the Dumbwaiter." "Extra side of fish." "Coming, hold on." Wow, they must like me again tonight. "Hey Phil, everyone's happy with everything up there." "What did they say?" "I asked if this is what they wanted and they said 'yes, it looks fantastic.' "Woooo-hoooo."
Dessert goes out - Angie's latest magical little treat - Chocolate Panna Cotta (really it's chocolate milk jello, but don't tell her I blabbed). Phone rings. "Hey Galley this is the bridge, is it OK if we have orcas off the bow." "Of course, desserts gone out already - they're [the passengers] are all yours." "Thanks galley." "No problem."
Later, up on the Ledo deck, I saw some orcas mating (or so I was told later) and about a half a dozen times there was a breeching orca that showed us his/her whole glorious form by jumping clean out of the water. I got to talk to Carey on the phone (just enough reception for a decent conversation) while watching the spectacle. She could hear the squeals of the passengers every time something incredible happening. We were also blessed by one of the orcas near the ship squeaking hello very loudly out of his/her blow-hole. Sounded like flipper. Very cool. Heard.
Challenges
I'm going to bed very late tonight. This is mainly because I found out a few hours ago that we're having brunch tomorrow. It's nobody's fault in particular that I never found out until tonight - just general breakdown of communication. Sadly enough I had already printed menus for tomorrow with the usual Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner hoopla. So, I had to reprint menus after figuring out what we'll serve at 10 am tomorrow morning. Since I was hoping to use the original menu for tomorrow on the next day, I had to refigure the whole day, but the frittata we already made is on both menus. Guess I'll reprint again.
Despite all my efforts to inform the passengers of what they'll be eating that day, it never fails that some seem to need to wait till the last minute to make special orders. Turns out we have three people with nut allergies instead of two (every week we have a manifest with nutrition requests and the like), a mushroom allergy we didn't know about, and at lunch today someone told us they couldn't eat chicken. No problem - that's why chefs always have back-up plans. Smoked salmon in the microwave became their entree. Our Gluten-Free passenger has special pastas we bought and breads and desserts that Angie has been making. We made her some Gluten-Free Apple Oat pancakes this morning. At dinner, the one lady who requested something other than King Crab or cranberry cornbread stuffed pork tenderloin got a special pasta primavera with tomato sauce, salami, chickpeas, and fresh basil. Turns out a couple other people wanted pasta at the last minute. That's why chefs tend to cook more than is needed. A couple of passengers can't have cream or butter, so before we add that stuff to anything, we pull some aside for them and do our best to make it tasty.
Feeding crew is sometimes as challenging. After the first two weeks I was informed that crew wasn't being sufficiently fed. So, with sixteen mouths to feed and twelve different schedules, tastes, appetites, etc. the solution has been to cook a seperate "crew chew" meal about an hour before meal times and have them hot and waiting in the hotbox. Then, in addition, we'll take all the leftovers after passengers are finished eating and make crew plates for anyone who wants to wait for something fancier than crew chew. So far crew chew has been stuff like spaghetti, tuna mac, leftover elk stew refurbished with veggies and potatoes, and beans and rice. Today we even made some frozen burritos. They loved them, though several asked for salsa. Sorry, no salsa today. Guess I'll buy some at the store next time I go.
Galley folks don't really tend to eat "meals"; we eat cookies, peanut butter cups, chips, cereal, and of course end up taking tastes of everything all day long. We drink a lot of water and caffeine, or anything that is in front of our face. We bought chocolate milk since our captain for the next two weeks is very fond of it, so I've indulged in about a half gallon in the last three days. Chocolate milk is definitely my biggest and best vice.
Crew wanders down when they're hungry or when they're told to, depending on their relative rank. Expedition Leaders are usually only free to eat when the guests are eating, so we try to take good care of them. No matter how hard we try though, seems like every couple of days we'll decide we can finally throw something out, only to find out a bit later that someone never came down for food. P B and J time for them. But, as they're all busy working their own jobs, we do try to accomodate as much as possible.
Between the special orders and the gastronomic whims of the crew, we stay on our toes all the time. It's hard for me to imagine anyone ever going hungry, but I'm literally surrounded by food all day long. With all this stress, I impagine we'll soon be breaking into that huge bag of candy I bought in Juneau. Smarties are gourmet, aren't they?
Despite all my efforts to inform the passengers of what they'll be eating that day, it never fails that some seem to need to wait till the last minute to make special orders. Turns out we have three people with nut allergies instead of two (every week we have a manifest with nutrition requests and the like), a mushroom allergy we didn't know about, and at lunch today someone told us they couldn't eat chicken. No problem - that's why chefs always have back-up plans. Smoked salmon in the microwave became their entree. Our Gluten-Free passenger has special pastas we bought and breads and desserts that Angie has been making. We made her some Gluten-Free Apple Oat pancakes this morning. At dinner, the one lady who requested something other than King Crab or cranberry cornbread stuffed pork tenderloin got a special pasta primavera with tomato sauce, salami, chickpeas, and fresh basil. Turns out a couple other people wanted pasta at the last minute. That's why chefs tend to cook more than is needed. A couple of passengers can't have cream or butter, so before we add that stuff to anything, we pull some aside for them and do our best to make it tasty.
Feeding crew is sometimes as challenging. After the first two weeks I was informed that crew wasn't being sufficiently fed. So, with sixteen mouths to feed and twelve different schedules, tastes, appetites, etc. the solution has been to cook a seperate "crew chew" meal about an hour before meal times and have them hot and waiting in the hotbox. Then, in addition, we'll take all the leftovers after passengers are finished eating and make crew plates for anyone who wants to wait for something fancier than crew chew. So far crew chew has been stuff like spaghetti, tuna mac, leftover elk stew refurbished with veggies and potatoes, and beans and rice. Today we even made some frozen burritos. They loved them, though several asked for salsa. Sorry, no salsa today. Guess I'll buy some at the store next time I go.
Galley folks don't really tend to eat "meals"; we eat cookies, peanut butter cups, chips, cereal, and of course end up taking tastes of everything all day long. We drink a lot of water and caffeine, or anything that is in front of our face. We bought chocolate milk since our captain for the next two weeks is very fond of it, so I've indulged in about a half gallon in the last three days. Chocolate milk is definitely my biggest and best vice.
Crew wanders down when they're hungry or when they're told to, depending on their relative rank. Expedition Leaders are usually only free to eat when the guests are eating, so we try to take good care of them. No matter how hard we try though, seems like every couple of days we'll decide we can finally throw something out, only to find out a bit later that someone never came down for food. P B and J time for them. But, as they're all busy working their own jobs, we do try to accomodate as much as possible.
Between the special orders and the gastronomic whims of the crew, we stay on our toes all the time. It's hard for me to imagine anyone ever going hungry, but I'm literally surrounded by food all day long. With all this stress, I impagine we'll soon be breaking into that huge bag of candy I bought in Juneau. Smarties are gourmet, aren't they?
Never Buy A Used I-Pod
Today we had some interesting things happen. The CPR baby dummy that had been appearing here and there was discovered on the prep counter this morning. It was leftover from when this ship was called the Rapture, and we kind of held onto it as a twisted little mascot for all our misadventures. Leaving it in people's beds, or doing strange things to it, removing limbs and the like, became just one more form of entertainment for the crew. This morning though it was found covered in clarified butter sitting on the prep counter. Angie, who had to clean and sanitize the counter, wasn't too happy. Baby went into the trash can.
Through metaphysical power, the power of belief, or just odd coincidence, the oven that the baby had been left jammed into the door earlier this week shorted out, smoking and sparking as it died. More on that later.
One of the more interesting things that happens on these boats is the phenomenon of special orders. People like being special and having special little things brought to them. Today at lunch we served Thai Chicken wraps. My bad, we did have chicken at lunch yesterday too, so some lady asked if she could have smoked salmon in her wrap (she had already asked for something different at boarding dinner and we'd given her some smoked salmon we had in the fridge. So we obliged her today, then someone else at the table thought that was a good idea and asked for one as well. Keep in mind we'd already made two low-fat wraps, one salad with no wrap (gluten allergy) and one wrap with no peanuts (even though they were only on the side as a plate garnish). Oi.
So we do all these things, feeling very abused and underappreciated. I get into "a mood" at this point and send Angie and Shelly upstairs to take breaks since Shelly is getting up early with Angie to learn Early Riser routines and desserts and such. I let out my angst with some Ani Difranco, who alternately fires me up and gets me all misty eyed, meanwhile I'm prepping as much as possible for dinner so things will go smoothly. When I'm finally satisfied with my progress, I clean up and go upstairs for a nap. Napping from 4:30 to about 5:20, I groggily make my way down to the galley. At this point the girls promptly inform me that the oven (which the cursed CPR baby had been in) pretty much exploded. Well, smoked and sparked out through the door. Unfortunately this took the griddle with it, since they are linked in circuit. Oi.
Dinner time was a cross between awesome and horrible. Everything was peachy keen as soups went out for first course. Then, with about four soups left to serve, the call comes from the bridge, "we've got bubble netting humpbacks dead ahead." Awesome, and not. Truly bubble net feeding is the greatest most amazing thing to see. We ask the next server who comes down, "are people still sitting?" "Yeah," they say. OK, keep serving. Set up six plates for the first table, about to put proteins on, when another server comes down and says most of the passengers have left the dining room. So this is why I requested a big warming oven. Into the warmer everything goes, and out we go as well to see the show. Ten minutes later, satisfied with my dose of spectacle, I walk back down to the galley, and stop in the dining room as I see about a dozen people sitting at their tables, apparently waiting for dinner. That's odd. They didn't care about the whales so much. So I told them we'd have dinner for them shortly and then trudge up to the bridge to alert the servers that they had folks in need of service. Long story short, the whole dinner hour, which had been delayed by 45 minutes or so, consisted of people moving to different positions, getting up and watching whales after their plates had been prepared, and people literally trickling in over the course of a half hour.
Now, as I finish typing, Eric the Chief Engineer and bunkmate has just informed me that the main element for the right hand oven has blown itself into four pieces, but that the griddle and two right-hand burners should hopefully be operational by morning. This is good as I have already put a special french toast dish on the menu for breakfast, and I'd be nonplussed to have to bake it instead of using the griddle.
I'm getting up early tomorrow since we have BBQ for lunch and we're going to Baranof Warm Springs in the afternoon. This has to be my favorite place in Southeast Alaska, and I'm looking forward to a long Sulfery soak in a public use horse trough hot tub with an amazing view.
Good night.
Through metaphysical power, the power of belief, or just odd coincidence, the oven that the baby had been left jammed into the door earlier this week shorted out, smoking and sparking as it died. More on that later.
One of the more interesting things that happens on these boats is the phenomenon of special orders. People like being special and having special little things brought to them. Today at lunch we served Thai Chicken wraps. My bad, we did have chicken at lunch yesterday too, so some lady asked if she could have smoked salmon in her wrap (she had already asked for something different at boarding dinner and we'd given her some smoked salmon we had in the fridge. So we obliged her today, then someone else at the table thought that was a good idea and asked for one as well. Keep in mind we'd already made two low-fat wraps, one salad with no wrap (gluten allergy) and one wrap with no peanuts (even though they were only on the side as a plate garnish). Oi.
So we do all these things, feeling very abused and underappreciated. I get into "a mood" at this point and send Angie and Shelly upstairs to take breaks since Shelly is getting up early with Angie to learn Early Riser routines and desserts and such. I let out my angst with some Ani Difranco, who alternately fires me up and gets me all misty eyed, meanwhile I'm prepping as much as possible for dinner so things will go smoothly. When I'm finally satisfied with my progress, I clean up and go upstairs for a nap. Napping from 4:30 to about 5:20, I groggily make my way down to the galley. At this point the girls promptly inform me that the oven (which the cursed CPR baby had been in) pretty much exploded. Well, smoked and sparked out through the door. Unfortunately this took the griddle with it, since they are linked in circuit. Oi.
Dinner time was a cross between awesome and horrible. Everything was peachy keen as soups went out for first course. Then, with about four soups left to serve, the call comes from the bridge, "we've got bubble netting humpbacks dead ahead." Awesome, and not. Truly bubble net feeding is the greatest most amazing thing to see. We ask the next server who comes down, "are people still sitting?" "Yeah," they say. OK, keep serving. Set up six plates for the first table, about to put proteins on, when another server comes down and says most of the passengers have left the dining room. So this is why I requested a big warming oven. Into the warmer everything goes, and out we go as well to see the show. Ten minutes later, satisfied with my dose of spectacle, I walk back down to the galley, and stop in the dining room as I see about a dozen people sitting at their tables, apparently waiting for dinner. That's odd. They didn't care about the whales so much. So I told them we'd have dinner for them shortly and then trudge up to the bridge to alert the servers that they had folks in need of service. Long story short, the whole dinner hour, which had been delayed by 45 minutes or so, consisted of people moving to different positions, getting up and watching whales after their plates had been prepared, and people literally trickling in over the course of a half hour.
Now, as I finish typing, Eric the Chief Engineer and bunkmate has just informed me that the main element for the right hand oven has blown itself into four pieces, but that the griddle and two right-hand burners should hopefully be operational by morning. This is good as I have already put a special french toast dish on the menu for breakfast, and I'd be nonplussed to have to bake it instead of using the griddle.
I'm getting up early tomorrow since we have BBQ for lunch and we're going to Baranof Warm Springs in the afternoon. This has to be my favorite place in Southeast Alaska, and I'm looking forward to a long Sulfery soak in a public use horse trough hot tub with an amazing view.
Good night.
One Week Down
The Highlights:
Had to announce a change to the printed menu one day. Came out at lunch and told them the pork wasn't up to my standards (though actually I just didn't have any - smoke and mirrors!) Too bad folks we're having filet mignon instead. Then I made my piano debut on the Explorer by mostly improvising a blues tune entitled "Pork Loin." Went something like "woke up this morning got the pork out, didn't look quite right, guess we'll have filet mignon tonight."
Made up another blues tune called "Bananas Foster" for our first tableside cooking presentation. Shelly did the fireworks on one of our butane burners while I kept it raw on the keyboard. Shelly is so brilliant that she waited till I sang "then you add the liquor" before adding the liquor. Almost like we planned it - which we didn't have time for of course.
Reportedly did a bang up job in general (we'll see what the comment cards say tomorrow) but in particular I rocked out the Elk stew. It was fun to tell the passengers that I was waiting to hear that Wednesday morning whether the Elk had arrived on the Alaska airlines flight. It did, and I was on the phone on the back deck as we went into Petersburg and gave the thumbs up to all the passengers waiting to disembark. Then the elk arrived - all 175 pounds of it. Oops, we had to send about 165 pounds back (fun to carry up the thirty five degree incline, one-hundred foot dock gangway). The Hammer and Wikan grocery store folks were so diligent in making sure we got the elk before leaving dock at 1:30 pm that they forgot to tell the driver that the vast majority of the elk was going to the store freezers where they would hold it for me. But the stew did go over very well despite the debacle in getting it.
The dumbwaiter that makes our lives so much easier (once it was working on day 2) almost bit the dust today (Thursday - day 7 of our inaugural cruise). We were working as usual sometime after lunch cleaning things, when all of a sudden Dani the hotel manager hit the send down button from upstairs. The thing just flew down all noisy with dishes and scared the bejeezes out of everyone. Within an hour, our Chief Engineer Erik had it fixed better than before. Apparently the weird squeaky noises it always made had been a bad sign. Angie still doesn't completely trust the thing, though no one was hurt and no dishes were broken.
Though I may never get to use it for lack of time, I found out today that Erik has a Playstation with him. It's plugged in right now, and he's playing some car racing game. Cool.
Only had one day where we had to work without a break from five am til ten pm. The galley was grumpy today because we were in recovery.
Shelly got to see Orcas and Humpbacks, some bears, go kayaking, and watch a Glacier calving. I didn't spend much time outside, but when I was, the vistas have been incredible. Late snow on the mountaintops hasn't melted yet. Southeast Alaska is definitely at its finest.
The ranger who came on board in Glacier Bay (we always have one onboard while we overnight in the park) was the same one from a couple summers ago. Though he was hoping I'd forgotten, he was the ranger that came to the crew "rave" we held one particularly fun week. The crew on the Quest was awesome that week and we set up strobe lights, loud music, and non-alcoholic beers in the engine room late at night. Everyone dressed in toga's while I had my own strange get-up: flowery sleeping shorts and a chef coat that was mostly unbuttoned. I'll never publish them, but there must be literally 300 or more photos from that night. Anyway, it was the same ranger and he totally remembered. 'Course, how could he forget.
So many stories - so little time to record and remember them.
Good night from the Great Land.
Had to announce a change to the printed menu one day. Came out at lunch and told them the pork wasn't up to my standards (though actually I just didn't have any - smoke and mirrors!) Too bad folks we're having filet mignon instead. Then I made my piano debut on the Explorer by mostly improvising a blues tune entitled "Pork Loin." Went something like "woke up this morning got the pork out, didn't look quite right, guess we'll have filet mignon tonight."
Made up another blues tune called "Bananas Foster" for our first tableside cooking presentation. Shelly did the fireworks on one of our butane burners while I kept it raw on the keyboard. Shelly is so brilliant that she waited till I sang "then you add the liquor" before adding the liquor. Almost like we planned it - which we didn't have time for of course.
Reportedly did a bang up job in general (we'll see what the comment cards say tomorrow) but in particular I rocked out the Elk stew. It was fun to tell the passengers that I was waiting to hear that Wednesday morning whether the Elk had arrived on the Alaska airlines flight. It did, and I was on the phone on the back deck as we went into Petersburg and gave the thumbs up to all the passengers waiting to disembark. Then the elk arrived - all 175 pounds of it. Oops, we had to send about 165 pounds back (fun to carry up the thirty five degree incline, one-hundred foot dock gangway). The Hammer and Wikan grocery store folks were so diligent in making sure we got the elk before leaving dock at 1:30 pm that they forgot to tell the driver that the vast majority of the elk was going to the store freezers where they would hold it for me. But the stew did go over very well despite the debacle in getting it.
The dumbwaiter that makes our lives so much easier (once it was working on day 2) almost bit the dust today (Thursday - day 7 of our inaugural cruise). We were working as usual sometime after lunch cleaning things, when all of a sudden Dani the hotel manager hit the send down button from upstairs. The thing just flew down all noisy with dishes and scared the bejeezes out of everyone. Within an hour, our Chief Engineer Erik had it fixed better than before. Apparently the weird squeaky noises it always made had been a bad sign. Angie still doesn't completely trust the thing, though no one was hurt and no dishes were broken.
Though I may never get to use it for lack of time, I found out today that Erik has a Playstation with him. It's plugged in right now, and he's playing some car racing game. Cool.
Only had one day where we had to work without a break from five am til ten pm. The galley was grumpy today because we were in recovery.
Shelly got to see Orcas and Humpbacks, some bears, go kayaking, and watch a Glacier calving. I didn't spend much time outside, but when I was, the vistas have been incredible. Late snow on the mountaintops hasn't melted yet. Southeast Alaska is definitely at its finest.
The ranger who came on board in Glacier Bay (we always have one onboard while we overnight in the park) was the same one from a couple summers ago. Though he was hoping I'd forgotten, he was the ranger that came to the crew "rave" we held one particularly fun week. The crew on the Quest was awesome that week and we set up strobe lights, loud music, and non-alcoholic beers in the engine room late at night. Everyone dressed in toga's while I had my own strange get-up: flowery sleeping shorts and a chef coat that was mostly unbuttoned. I'll never publish them, but there must be literally 300 or more photos from that night. Anyway, it was the same ranger and he totally remembered. 'Course, how could he forget.
So many stories - so little time to record and remember them.
Good night from the Great Land.
Brain Working
Whatsoever I can say with limited brain functionality is contained herein.
Typical Day:
Wake up at 5:15 am, 1/2 hour early since the expedition leaders requested an early breakfast and lunch to accomodate excursions and activities. Make my way to the bridge to print out menus for the day; gee, do I have enough chicken to make Thai wraps for 36 guests and 16 crew? Yeah, most people eat too much protein anyway - I'll stretch it out with peanuts. Good, don't have to change anything.
Good morning Cappy (Captain Scott).
Good morning Phil. How's ya doin?
You know, tired but happy. The stewards' dishwasher upstairs isn't working again, so that sucks, but the dumbwaiter has been going strong for a couple a days, and that's really nice.
Well, that's good.
Yeah. How bout you?
Oh, great, a little loopy; runnin on a couple hours sleep.
Damn dude.
Yeah.
You gonna get a nap today?
Yeah, Sean (first mate) is so great to have along. He and I 've been working together for just lots of years, so I can pretty much turn to him at any point and just turn it over.
That must be great. Angie is kind of the same way for me. Well, back to it.
Yup, see ya later.
Make my way down three flights of stairs to the galley stopping to set the newly printed menus at the tables where guests will be sitting in a couple of hours.
In the galley now.
Mornin Ang.
Hay : )
How ya doooin?
Good.
I do some dishes, figure out what I need to get going for breakfast. Brain not working yet, so I get some pots of water on the stove eventually for oatmeal, Glacier Bay Porridge, and Poached eggs. Except the morning Shelly did it for me and I forgot which pot had all the vinegar in it (helps poached eggs set up quickly and stay together in the water), and proceeded to dump fourcups of milk into boiling vinegar water. Yeah, that pretty much makes instant cheese. Oops.
Ah, brain kicks in, better crack a couple flats of eggs for Strata Frittata. Slice some of Ang's leftover bread, butter the top, and throw in oven to toast (since I forgot to set it last night to get stale - technically I should make the whole thing with pre-staled bread the day before next week, as the egg batter will soak into the bread better and keep it from floating). While toasting, crack the eggs quickly - two at a time. Don't worry about shell, I'll strain it out later, and even if not, it tends to float to the bottom of the bowl anyway. Cut up Reindeer Sausage we buy from Hammer and Wikan Grocery store in Petersburg (small fishing town with Norweigan roots) though the sausage is actually made in Anchorage by the Alaska Sausage Company. Cut green onions, and Shelly arrives.
Mornin Shelly.
Good morning : )
Sleep good.
Yeah, but I had this crazy dream about the boat.
She recounts the crazy dream while slicing fontina cheese for my frittata.
Yeah, I always dream about the boat to when I'm working too.
After afew days thats all I dream about. Sometimes I wake up from a nap and think its the next day. Sometimes I wake up and decide I don't need that much time to prep dinner after all. Reset alarm for 1/2 hour later. Hopefully Ang and Shelly don't notice I'm late. Of course they will. Better get up. They keep me honest most of the time.
Frittata made and in the oven by 6:55 or so. Technically probably not enough time. Better turn the oven up. Technically the top will get a little browner than I'd like that way, but I just didn't get it out fast enough to make it perfect. They won't know the difference anyway. Only me and the girls will know the difference usually. That goes for a bunch of stuff.
Meanwhile Ang, the whirling dirvish that she is, has panned up two sheet pans of bacon, pulled all our other leftover breakfast meats (sausage patties, ham, yesterdays bacon) and yesterdays breakfast potatoes.
Hey Phil you want to re-use these today?
Yeah, we only got a couple orders yesterday - not worth the time to make new ones and they don't look that bad.
Sweet.
Booo-ya.
Hey, put Dr. Dre on the ipod.
We bust out Gangsta rap and one at time we thematically don our hankerchief do-rags. Ghetto thugs, yo.
Brain gets lost. Fast forward through breakfast. Lots of eggs and toast. Et cetera. Dishes. Only the third breakfast we've done, so it's still a total shit-show. Bad communication from stewards to galley and back again. Eggs fired too early sit there for minutes. Eternities.
Crew meanders down as they get time. Cereal, meat, eggs, toast, oatmeal, whatever. Any chocolate cake left from last night? Sho' nuf. Here ya go. Don't tell your physician I gave you that for breakfast.
Phil, let me finish up dishes. You go start your lunch prep.
What about all your stuff.
Oh, dinner bread is in the oven, lunch dessert is done, and I'm making Glacier Cake with all that frozen chocolate stuff.
You are a freak. I love it.
Yeah. Go.
Grab loads of veggies, some recieving pans, and set up a station. Gotta eat something first. Don't eat the bacon. You don't need the bacon. Nibble half a sausage, mmmm...that bacon sure looks good. There is plenty. Maybe half a piece. Eat some yogurt and frosted shredded wheat to make up for halves of pig products. Fortunately I pulled Spinach wraps from the freezer when my brain wasn't working, so they're thawing above the range. Better flip them around. Put peanuts in the oven to toast. Get water boiling for Rice Stick Noodle salad. Chop veg. Chop veg. Chop veg.
Crap, forgot the chicken. Quick thaw in a pot of boiling water. Should be done just in time.
Fast forward to just in time. Kind of hot still, but fully cooked, chopping the chiken along with the leftover chicken from Satay yesterday. Damn, why did I make chicken with peanut sauce two days in a row? Planning for months, and some little last minute switch makes me all of the sudden look like an amateur. Nobody will notice except me. No one ever does usually. Or that paranoid voice in my head that says they all notice, but don't say anything.
Remind myself that so far, every report has been positive. So far so good.
Plenty of wraps for crew. Try not to irritate Shelly and Ang with my extreme sense of urgency and particularness about how much filling each wrap gets. A little more, a little more, no thats too much. Here's how I want to roll it, here's how I want to plate it, here's what goes with it. No like this. That's my job though, and they know that. They don't want my job. They tell me that every other day practically.
Ang has made a huge batch of hot cocoa for the passengers to have on the glacier viewing skiff ride. Too bad I didn't buy a quarter of the hot chocolate mix we needed this week. Oh well, we'll just have to make it from scratch and hope we don't run out of milk.
Break time is getting closer. Now it's 1:00 pm, we're all cleaned up from lunch, crew is fed, Shelly and Ang got a smoke break, I resisted this time. I'm being good.
Ang, busting it out like mad, gets the brie trimmed and wrapped in Phyllo with Raspberry sauce. Probably prettier than I could have made it myself. Too bad she's leaving in a couple weeks and I've got to train new guy. Oh well, he could be awesome too, and Ang has needed her own boat for quite a while. I'm proud she's finally got the Quest as her own. Hope that treats her well.
Duck breasts are thawing now,
Ladies, go take your break. I'm gonna stay and do Caccitori veg. That way there'll be less time when no one is in the galley - just in case.
Chop veg. Chop veg. Chop veg. Listen to ipod. Chat with Roger, the night engineer and resident electrician (considered a "plank owner" because he spent months wiring the Explorer inside and out.) Roger wants to make cinnamon rolls tonight (for crew), so I show him where all the stuff is. Adios man, I'm going on break now. Make a list for Ang and Shelly of stuff to do when they get off break and come down. Skin and pin-bone salmon sides, make daily gourmet cheese platter, pick crab for Salmon Roulade, chop four shallots, sautee in butter, and then add a bottle of Pinot Grigio (being served at dinner) to reduce for a while.
3:15. Get to my bunk, settle in, shift and fold some laundry. Hey, I found the other half of that invoice I was supposed to send last Friday. Gotta remember to e-mail accounting. Play some Jack Johnson in Strum and Sing mode, trying not to wake Ang and Shelly napping across the hall in the port side five-man bunk. Speed through a few relaxing tunes, put on the headphones, set the alarm for 4:45. Its now 3:36. Pretty good nap today. Dream about the crew, but not specifically the boat. It was a dream about bonding with people under stress. very appropriate. Get woken up by Ang asking if she should start the Coconut Curry Butternut squash soup. Sure I say. Roll over and go back to sleep.
Wake up. Today still. Go down, hazily bust out dinner prep. Never made the salmon before, hope it works. Yup, not bad. A couple rave reviews. Whatever, I know the difference. Shelly does the duck breast Caccitori style, smashing job. I always add too much Kalamata to the veg, so I tell her to do it instead. One person wants plain salmon, one person can't eat tomatoes. Pull some aside before adding tomato sauce. Everything comes out well and the Fennel tops look nice on the plates, like dill but lighter green and wispier. I know the difference.
Clean up, feed crew, though mostly they feed themselves. Send Ang up to bed since she's been doing early riser muffins and fruit. Shelly and I finish cleaning and start the floors. Shelly finishes the floors and I go with her up to the ledo deck (top of the boat where the smoking section is for crew). There are whales 100 yards off the bow just lazily feeding, but we can hear their blowhole noises like deep pipe organs ripping paper. We chat about life and Alaska and cooking. Commiserating too, since there's always plenty to complain about, but we can't really say anything to anyone. Even on a ship this size, it is a bad idea to rock the boat in any way.
Go to bed.
Set alarm for 5:45 am
Type.
Sleepy time.
11:24 pm
File.
Save As.
Blog 3.
Typical Day:
Wake up at 5:15 am, 1/2 hour early since the expedition leaders requested an early breakfast and lunch to accomodate excursions and activities. Make my way to the bridge to print out menus for the day; gee, do I have enough chicken to make Thai wraps for 36 guests and 16 crew? Yeah, most people eat too much protein anyway - I'll stretch it out with peanuts. Good, don't have to change anything.
Good morning Cappy (Captain Scott).
Good morning Phil. How's ya doin?
You know, tired but happy. The stewards' dishwasher upstairs isn't working again, so that sucks, but the dumbwaiter has been going strong for a couple a days, and that's really nice.
Well, that's good.
Yeah. How bout you?
Oh, great, a little loopy; runnin on a couple hours sleep.
Damn dude.
Yeah.
You gonna get a nap today?
Yeah, Sean (first mate) is so great to have along. He and I 've been working together for just lots of years, so I can pretty much turn to him at any point and just turn it over.
That must be great. Angie is kind of the same way for me. Well, back to it.
Yup, see ya later.
Make my way down three flights of stairs to the galley stopping to set the newly printed menus at the tables where guests will be sitting in a couple of hours.
In the galley now.
Mornin Ang.
Hay : )
How ya doooin?
Good.
I do some dishes, figure out what I need to get going for breakfast. Brain not working yet, so I get some pots of water on the stove eventually for oatmeal, Glacier Bay Porridge, and Poached eggs. Except the morning Shelly did it for me and I forgot which pot had all the vinegar in it (helps poached eggs set up quickly and stay together in the water), and proceeded to dump fourcups of milk into boiling vinegar water. Yeah, that pretty much makes instant cheese. Oops.
Ah, brain kicks in, better crack a couple flats of eggs for Strata Frittata. Slice some of Ang's leftover bread, butter the top, and throw in oven to toast (since I forgot to set it last night to get stale - technically I should make the whole thing with pre-staled bread the day before next week, as the egg batter will soak into the bread better and keep it from floating). While toasting, crack the eggs quickly - two at a time. Don't worry about shell, I'll strain it out later, and even if not, it tends to float to the bottom of the bowl anyway. Cut up Reindeer Sausage we buy from Hammer and Wikan Grocery store in Petersburg (small fishing town with Norweigan roots) though the sausage is actually made in Anchorage by the Alaska Sausage Company. Cut green onions, and Shelly arrives.
Mornin Shelly.
Good morning : )
Sleep good.
Yeah, but I had this crazy dream about the boat.
She recounts the crazy dream while slicing fontina cheese for my frittata.
Yeah, I always dream about the boat to when I'm working too.
After afew days thats all I dream about. Sometimes I wake up from a nap and think its the next day. Sometimes I wake up and decide I don't need that much time to prep dinner after all. Reset alarm for 1/2 hour later. Hopefully Ang and Shelly don't notice I'm late. Of course they will. Better get up. They keep me honest most of the time.
Frittata made and in the oven by 6:55 or so. Technically probably not enough time. Better turn the oven up. Technically the top will get a little browner than I'd like that way, but I just didn't get it out fast enough to make it perfect. They won't know the difference anyway. Only me and the girls will know the difference usually. That goes for a bunch of stuff.
Meanwhile Ang, the whirling dirvish that she is, has panned up two sheet pans of bacon, pulled all our other leftover breakfast meats (sausage patties, ham, yesterdays bacon) and yesterdays breakfast potatoes.
Hey Phil you want to re-use these today?
Yeah, we only got a couple orders yesterday - not worth the time to make new ones and they don't look that bad.
Sweet.
Booo-ya.
Hey, put Dr. Dre on the ipod.
We bust out Gangsta rap and one at time we thematically don our hankerchief do-rags. Ghetto thugs, yo.
Brain gets lost. Fast forward through breakfast. Lots of eggs and toast. Et cetera. Dishes. Only the third breakfast we've done, so it's still a total shit-show. Bad communication from stewards to galley and back again. Eggs fired too early sit there for minutes. Eternities.
Crew meanders down as they get time. Cereal, meat, eggs, toast, oatmeal, whatever. Any chocolate cake left from last night? Sho' nuf. Here ya go. Don't tell your physician I gave you that for breakfast.
Phil, let me finish up dishes. You go start your lunch prep.
What about all your stuff.
Oh, dinner bread is in the oven, lunch dessert is done, and I'm making Glacier Cake with all that frozen chocolate stuff.
You are a freak. I love it.
Yeah. Go.
Grab loads of veggies, some recieving pans, and set up a station. Gotta eat something first. Don't eat the bacon. You don't need the bacon. Nibble half a sausage, mmmm...that bacon sure looks good. There is plenty. Maybe half a piece. Eat some yogurt and frosted shredded wheat to make up for halves of pig products. Fortunately I pulled Spinach wraps from the freezer when my brain wasn't working, so they're thawing above the range. Better flip them around. Put peanuts in the oven to toast. Get water boiling for Rice Stick Noodle salad. Chop veg. Chop veg. Chop veg.
Crap, forgot the chicken. Quick thaw in a pot of boiling water. Should be done just in time.
Fast forward to just in time. Kind of hot still, but fully cooked, chopping the chiken along with the leftover chicken from Satay yesterday. Damn, why did I make chicken with peanut sauce two days in a row? Planning for months, and some little last minute switch makes me all of the sudden look like an amateur. Nobody will notice except me. No one ever does usually. Or that paranoid voice in my head that says they all notice, but don't say anything.
Remind myself that so far, every report has been positive. So far so good.
Plenty of wraps for crew. Try not to irritate Shelly and Ang with my extreme sense of urgency and particularness about how much filling each wrap gets. A little more, a little more, no thats too much. Here's how I want to roll it, here's how I want to plate it, here's what goes with it. No like this. That's my job though, and they know that. They don't want my job. They tell me that every other day practically.
Ang has made a huge batch of hot cocoa for the passengers to have on the glacier viewing skiff ride. Too bad I didn't buy a quarter of the hot chocolate mix we needed this week. Oh well, we'll just have to make it from scratch and hope we don't run out of milk.
Break time is getting closer. Now it's 1:00 pm, we're all cleaned up from lunch, crew is fed, Shelly and Ang got a smoke break, I resisted this time. I'm being good.
Ang, busting it out like mad, gets the brie trimmed and wrapped in Phyllo with Raspberry sauce. Probably prettier than I could have made it myself. Too bad she's leaving in a couple weeks and I've got to train new guy. Oh well, he could be awesome too, and Ang has needed her own boat for quite a while. I'm proud she's finally got the Quest as her own. Hope that treats her well.
Duck breasts are thawing now,
Ladies, go take your break. I'm gonna stay and do Caccitori veg. That way there'll be less time when no one is in the galley - just in case.
Chop veg. Chop veg. Chop veg. Listen to ipod. Chat with Roger, the night engineer and resident electrician (considered a "plank owner" because he spent months wiring the Explorer inside and out.) Roger wants to make cinnamon rolls tonight (for crew), so I show him where all the stuff is. Adios man, I'm going on break now. Make a list for Ang and Shelly of stuff to do when they get off break and come down. Skin and pin-bone salmon sides, make daily gourmet cheese platter, pick crab for Salmon Roulade, chop four shallots, sautee in butter, and then add a bottle of Pinot Grigio (being served at dinner) to reduce for a while.
3:15. Get to my bunk, settle in, shift and fold some laundry. Hey, I found the other half of that invoice I was supposed to send last Friday. Gotta remember to e-mail accounting. Play some Jack Johnson in Strum and Sing mode, trying not to wake Ang and Shelly napping across the hall in the port side five-man bunk. Speed through a few relaxing tunes, put on the headphones, set the alarm for 4:45. Its now 3:36. Pretty good nap today. Dream about the crew, but not specifically the boat. It was a dream about bonding with people under stress. very appropriate. Get woken up by Ang asking if she should start the Coconut Curry Butternut squash soup. Sure I say. Roll over and go back to sleep.
Wake up. Today still. Go down, hazily bust out dinner prep. Never made the salmon before, hope it works. Yup, not bad. A couple rave reviews. Whatever, I know the difference. Shelly does the duck breast Caccitori style, smashing job. I always add too much Kalamata to the veg, so I tell her to do it instead. One person wants plain salmon, one person can't eat tomatoes. Pull some aside before adding tomato sauce. Everything comes out well and the Fennel tops look nice on the plates, like dill but lighter green and wispier. I know the difference.
Clean up, feed crew, though mostly they feed themselves. Send Ang up to bed since she's been doing early riser muffins and fruit. Shelly and I finish cleaning and start the floors. Shelly finishes the floors and I go with her up to the ledo deck (top of the boat where the smoking section is for crew). There are whales 100 yards off the bow just lazily feeding, but we can hear their blowhole noises like deep pipe organs ripping paper. We chat about life and Alaska and cooking. Commiserating too, since there's always plenty to complain about, but we can't really say anything to anyone. Even on a ship this size, it is a bad idea to rock the boat in any way.
Go to bed.
Set alarm for 5:45 am
Type.
Sleepy time.
11:24 pm
File.
Save As.
Blog 3.
Dumbwaiter Working
Dumbwaiter working. Finally. We're struggling I think. Hard to tell. The passengers seem to be very excited about everything we're serving. Tough to be a chef with the critical eye of Mordor looking over every little thing. This galley is a dungeon where the mystical arcane arts of smoke and mirrors is practiced.
We'll never tire. We'll never give up. No matter the challenges, the buildup of tooth grinding, and everything stays right where it is. The challenge is going to be the slow deliberate changes that convince the fish it's swimming upstream, and not falling behind. Our destination is vacation, though we're surrounded by vacationer's paradise. We'll begin the repetition of recipes next week. We'll see the same things again until time gets slimier and quicker and all the party can build up along with the agony.
I'd move to Southeast Alaska someday. I'd also give up working on boats someday. As difficult as owning a restaurant may be, I'm not sure there is anything harder than knowing you'll not see home for so long, knowing your loved ones can't see you or share your day. Hard to want to write it all down, keeping all the agony and ecstacy bottled up for posterity. I guess that need to share comes from pride and suffering together, and wishing Carey could pat my head and smile and say, "what a good job you did." I try to recreate some of the magic wherever I can in my not-boat time, but there is something like a burden which drives my cart right now. The burden carries rewards, but I've always been one to shrug off burdens no matter the loss of reward.
Time to keep my feet and sleep. Goodnight.
We'll never tire. We'll never give up. No matter the challenges, the buildup of tooth grinding, and everything stays right where it is. The challenge is going to be the slow deliberate changes that convince the fish it's swimming upstream, and not falling behind. Our destination is vacation, though we're surrounded by vacationer's paradise. We'll begin the repetition of recipes next week. We'll see the same things again until time gets slimier and quicker and all the party can build up along with the agony.
I'd move to Southeast Alaska someday. I'd also give up working on boats someday. As difficult as owning a restaurant may be, I'm not sure there is anything harder than knowing you'll not see home for so long, knowing your loved ones can't see you or share your day. Hard to want to write it all down, keeping all the agony and ecstacy bottled up for posterity. I guess that need to share comes from pride and suffering together, and wishing Carey could pat my head and smile and say, "what a good job you did." I try to recreate some of the magic wherever I can in my not-boat time, but there is something like a burden which drives my cart right now. The burden carries rewards, but I've always been one to shrug off burdens no matter the loss of reward.
Time to keep my feet and sleep. Goodnight.
After We Left Seattle
We disembarked our pseudo-passengers on our last morning in Seattle. Since we weren't coming back to Seattle any time soon there was a last-minute scramble to department, grocery and hardware stores to purchase everything we could think of. For me it was a nice breath of free-time after two weeks of hard and busy work.
The whole crew was elated once we left. In addition to our regular crew of sixteen, we brought half a dozen folks with us for the repositioning trip. Our President/CEO, Captain Voss, the Project Manager for Explorer's refit, and several carpenters/electricians/engineers to help finish up the laundry lists of things to complete.
Underway, the schedule was easier on the galley staff than anyone else. One of the three of us would make crew breakfast; Angie spent time making cookie dough and breads to put in the freezer; several gourmet meals were prepared for the crew so we could get back into the swing of things and get our timing down with the new equipment. The bridge crew on the other hand, was taking shifts since we were running twenty-four hours a day. Tim Voss ended up with the night shift more often then not, but he still found time to let me beat him at scrabble a couple of times. Now ASC's Director of Operations, Tim was my captain for most of the first summer I worked for ASC, and though he's lecherous and has a sordid past (or maybe because of those things), he's one of the best people I know. He's well-read and very intelligent, and many of us refer to him simply as 'Big Daddy'.
We were able to stop by Buttedale, half-way through Canada along the inside passage. Now abandond, this old cannery looks like a haunted theme park, complete with a large dormitory, several stories high with all the windows broken out and a sizable tree now growing on the roof in addition to numerous houses and warehouses and docks. Many of the buildings and a good chunk of the dock have collapsed, some right into the water. A salty dude named Dale lives there as a caretaker with his dogs. Every time we stop by we always give him a care package with baked goods and fresh fruits. I've never met him, but I've fed him several times.
The last day before arriving in Juneau (a four day trip total) the crew all went on a hike together at a beautiful waterfall near Thomas Bay. A little book, "The Strangest Story Ever
Told," tells of the legendary half-otter half-men who are said to haunt the Bay. These "Kushtikas" are often joked about amongst the crew, being blamed for equipment malfunctions and the like. Cascade Creek has a torrent of water and makes for a lovely photo spot. Particularly amazing is how the trail wanders through a wind-swept bluff next to part of the falls, so hikers are regularly doused with a huge mist. The whole experience was very magical, especially at sunset, and helped our band of strangers bond a little more. At the top of the trail, just past the high, wooden foot-bridge (a bit scary if you're afraid of heights), I was able to stop for a moment and dip my hand into the rushing water. The extreme amount of air bubbles gave my hand a peculiar soft sensation, and I said my own version of a prayer to my wife (serene water places make me think of her).
Once we reached Juneau we had one last night of freedom. I spent most of it on the phone, and others were still busily trying to make the ship ready for passengers the next day. On each stateroom there was a yellow notepad paper list of all the tiny details still to be completed. We never got to all of them, but most people wouldn't notice them.
The whole crew was elated once we left. In addition to our regular crew of sixteen, we brought half a dozen folks with us for the repositioning trip. Our President/CEO, Captain Voss, the Project Manager for Explorer's refit, and several carpenters/electricians/engineers to help finish up the laundry lists of things to complete.
Underway, the schedule was easier on the galley staff than anyone else. One of the three of us would make crew breakfast; Angie spent time making cookie dough and breads to put in the freezer; several gourmet meals were prepared for the crew so we could get back into the swing of things and get our timing down with the new equipment. The bridge crew on the other hand, was taking shifts since we were running twenty-four hours a day. Tim Voss ended up with the night shift more often then not, but he still found time to let me beat him at scrabble a couple of times. Now ASC's Director of Operations, Tim was my captain for most of the first summer I worked for ASC, and though he's lecherous and has a sordid past (or maybe because of those things), he's one of the best people I know. He's well-read and very intelligent, and many of us refer to him simply as 'Big Daddy'.
We were able to stop by Buttedale, half-way through Canada along the inside passage. Now abandond, this old cannery looks like a haunted theme park, complete with a large dormitory, several stories high with all the windows broken out and a sizable tree now growing on the roof in addition to numerous houses and warehouses and docks. Many of the buildings and a good chunk of the dock have collapsed, some right into the water. A salty dude named Dale lives there as a caretaker with his dogs. Every time we stop by we always give him a care package with baked goods and fresh fruits. I've never met him, but I've fed him several times.
The last day before arriving in Juneau (a four day trip total) the crew all went on a hike together at a beautiful waterfall near Thomas Bay. A little book, "The Strangest Story Ever
Told," tells of the legendary half-otter half-men who are said to haunt the Bay. These "Kushtikas" are often joked about amongst the crew, being blamed for equipment malfunctions and the like. Cascade Creek has a torrent of water and makes for a lovely photo spot. Particularly amazing is how the trail wanders through a wind-swept bluff next to part of the falls, so hikers are regularly doused with a huge mist. The whole experience was very magical, especially at sunset, and helped our band of strangers bond a little more. At the top of the trail, just past the high, wooden foot-bridge (a bit scary if you're afraid of heights), I was able to stop for a moment and dip my hand into the rushing water. The extreme amount of air bubbles gave my hand a peculiar soft sensation, and I said my own version of a prayer to my wife (serene water places make me think of her).
Once we reached Juneau we had one last night of freedom. I spent most of it on the phone, and others were still busily trying to make the ship ready for passengers the next day. On each stateroom there was a yellow notepad paper list of all the tiny details still to be completed. We never got to all of them, but most people wouldn't notice them.
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