Amari - Day 11 Great Expectations

774 miles to go and the doldrums now behind us, replaced with modest 12-15 knot winds and a Caribbean day to enjoy.

Something happened when we got through the doldrums. Now it’s as though land is in sight already, and 700+ miles, hey, that’s not so far! Everyone is looking forward to getting in to shore as we read the guide book on Rodney Bay.

It is SO Western!! Meaning, I don’t have to walk through an African medina looking for ice, where people respond with, “What do you mean? But what IS it?”

In Rodney Bay, there is a chandlery with … ready, ready ?? … two floors of stuff!! In Morocco, marine supply stores were practically nonexistent. It was as though Wesley were looking at me in his mask saying, “Get used to disappointment.”

There’s a legit spa. The last one we went to rubbed us down with 100 grit sandpaper. Like sir, you have exfoliated down to my muscles. And I want to hit up a local cooking class for West Indian Cuisine, woot woot!

And when you sail closer and closer to shore, there’s this moment when wifi reaches your boat as you come in. It’s like a data junkie Christmas Eve waiting for the bling that means 24/7 info is baaaaaaaackk. As you near your beloved cell towers, you joyfully hoist your phone up to the heavens in your hand (as if that foot and a half makes a difference). But still!

I know it’s nuts, but I need to know some critical info- like is Trump still President? Is Britain still in Europe? Are the Netherlands still above water? Is my main man Messi cranking out those goals?? You know, the critical info.

So yes, the crew are feeling the anticipation of land, ready to have our celebratory bottle of champagne, and get an actual full night’s sleep!


Notes of a Galley Slave

Since we are running low on fresh foods, it’s time to get creative here on the sprint to Rodney Bay!

Dinner was black beans, rice, and roasted pork. Sounds boring, I know this. But it’s really how you dress it all up that makes the difference.

Yes the beans came out of a can, but Dottie made them delicious with cumin, chili powder, balsamic vinegar, a touch of olive oil, salt and pepper.

For the rice, I used to get those packets of yellow rice with the premade spices in them, but they are not on Amari and I’m not going to the store for oooohhh another 5 days. So I figured we could try our own version.

Into the boiling water with the rice went a sploosh of termeric and a shake shake of paprika. Salt, pepper and a bitty bit a butter round it off. In the end, it wasn’t exactly the same as the prepackaged version, but it wasn’t far off either!

I’m going to add a minced garlic clove next time as well. We’ll just call it Will's Wonder Rice: I wonder what he’ll put in it this time? Coming to a store near you.

The pork was a shoulder butt, done in a dutch oven with tomatillo salsa, jalepenos and a little vinegar. After three hours in this bubbling cauldron of flavors, it starts to fall apart, and then there is a gravitational force created between that pulled pork and my taste buds. It’s truly magic.


Give Us This Day

The Cape Verde bread is long gone, and now we are breadless except for the sliced jaundiced stuff we stuck in the freezer in an act of desperation.

Given this, it’s time to pull back the recipe for homemade bread from my selective memory banks. I so wish the Eagles or the Beatles or Pink Floyd had written a song called Bread Recipe, because I remember all the words to all their songs but somehow can’t pull back the proportion of flour to water to salt to yeast.

So this first pass is going to be a total guess. As I type, I’m on my watch overseen by this lovely waxing moon crescent. The bread also rises, waiting for the morning, when the giddy and expectant crew of the SV Amari tear into that hot crust within the first few milliseconds that it comes out of the oven.

I think we live from one great expectation to the next. Worse things could happen I guess.