I spent a few winters living 37 miles outside of Haines, Alaska, alone on my parents’ homestead. It was a magical time of discovery of self and of the natural world around me. In the deep of winter I’d let myself get snowed in, and then would entertain myself with books, movies, and through learning various crafts. One of my favorites was the art of baking bread.
A decade and a half later, I’d not baked more than 3 loafs of bread in all that time. But with the growing calm as we head southeast into the Caribbean, I was no longer compelled to sleep all day. Instead, I decided to give a try at bread baking on the boat during my off-shift hours.
My recipe was simple, from memory: I stirred a little honey into warm water (not scalding), then sprinkled a packet of yeast on top. Once visibly activated, I stirred in enough flour to make a gummy batter and set it under a dish towel away from cool breezes to rise for half an hour or so. Next, I added more flour until the dough could be rolled onto a floured surface (I covered our counter top in plastic wrap to keep flour out of the icebox below), kneading briefly I then formed it into a ball -- again, it was covered and left to rise until it nearly doubled in size. Finally, I drizzled olive oil on top and baked it in the oven at 350 degrees F until golden brown (and until “knocking” it on the bottom created a hollow sound).
This being my first bread baking attempt in years, and my first ever attempt 700 miles from land, I was extremely pleased with the end result. I warned the crew it would go bad quickly if not eaten, and was evidently taken seriously: there was none left this morning. Fresh buttered toast during the midnight hours was in popular demand, 700 miles from land.
-Jeremy, Captain of the S/V Miramar
(Photo attached)