Pictures (finally)!

I have finally learned to use my camera! Now, if I could just figure out my new MacBook (I just switched off of pc's)!

White Asparagus Salad with Marjoram Oil and Miatake Mushrooms:


Sea Bass with a Fresh Mango Chutney
On a Bed of Spaghetti Squash with Haricot Verts and Plantains

Curry oil decorates the plate, as well as the toasted seeds from the spaghetti squash


The Dialy Crudite


Fresh Caught Mackeral Ceviche served atop an Upside Down Martini Glass with Fresh Flowers in the Glass


And lots and lots of Green Soups!!!


And I finally got my big, white plates - yeah!

2 Days Left, and counting...

Day 7: Two days left and counting.

“Come on little herb leaves, you can last me two more days. Just two more days”…

3pm: My galley clogs have taken on a new sheen, like paten leather, they glisten under the glow of the halogen bulbs. The stewardess and I are wrecked, but we’re keeping each other going with anecdotes of yachting and charter guests, and plenty of caffeine. “Cortado”, I’ve learned means a “split” in Spanish. So, everyday around 5ish, Cristina (the stewardess by the same name) makes us a cortado, espresso coffee “split” with something – usually milk, but the cortado of choice is cortado de Baileys, which sounds so much better with a Spanish accent. Then, we take a few minutes to yammer about politics, men, life, family and home… And then, it’s back to the grind.

Today the guests requested a plate full of steamed vegetables for breakfast; this meant the end of my snow peas that I had planned on using for dinner. I’m now down to a hand full of sugar snaps, bok choy and zucchini. The guests don’t care for eggplant or peppers – so the crew will be seeing a lot of those in the next few days, but hopefully the crew won’t shrivel up and die of scurvy from lack of Vitamin C and green leafy vegetables. Oh wait, we’ve got beer – that contains some vitamins, doesn’t it?

I made 5 salads for lunch today and have only spinach and romaine lettuce remaining for two more days of salads. God, please don’t let them request vegetables for breakfast again tomorrow! In a mere two days I have already blown through the vegetables that I had delivered to the yacht. Now, when we’re out, we’re really out…

My grandma’s four-letter-word of choice when she’s mad is F-I-S-H. When she’s really mad about something, or stubs a toe, she clenches her fists, looks to the heavens and says, “aw fish!”. I can’t help but wonder if she was once in the same predicament as me, having to cook fish for lunch and dinner for 9 days straight. Now, I understand. I too clench my fists, look to the heavens and curse, “AW FISH!”. I’ve prepared a variety in every conceivable healthy manner ways this week – baked, steamed, grilled, broiled, poached, en pappiote, etc. Fish, fish, fish – if I see fish again in this lifetime, it will be too soon!

I used to think that healthy eating was the way to go. Now, I’m not so sure. I mean, what is life without a little bacon involved? What is a simpler and better pleasure than a wedge of stinky cheese and a glass of wine? And how about the old adage, “a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down”? I’m craving a Big Mac – and I haven’t touched one of those in decades!

10pm: The evening has come to an end. To start dinner, I steamed clams in ginger, shallots, lemongrass, kefir lime, cilantro and coconut milk and prayed to God that the guests wouldn’t request a salad. They raved about the clams and thankfully I have enough salad greens now to get through the morning. Dinner was red snapper on a bed of sugar snap peas and portobella mushrooms with a saffron sauce. They raved again. As I went into the dining room the guests made a request, their final request for the trip. They said that since it was their last full day tomorrow they would like to have a nice dessert after lunch. And not one, but two! A chocolate dessert of my choosing and either an apple tart or an apple tart tatin. Since I’ve never accomplished a successful tart tatin, I figure why not give it a shot. If it fails, well, to quote my friend Charlie speaking on pizza, “it’s like sex, when it’s good it’s great, and when it’s bad, it’s still not so bad…”. And for the chocolate, I’ve decided to test out a flourless chocolate-coconut cake that I read about a few months ago on my favorite food blog Zucchine & Chocolate.

One of the guests is a painter - so I decided to add my own painterly touch to dessert:

Flourless Coconut-Chocolate Cake with Coconut Sorbet:


Individual Tart Tatin:


A little of both:
But for now - it is time to sleep…


My creative juices have been reduced to a demi-glaze, or perhaps more like a thick sludge. Just two more days- and it’s going to take A LOT of creativity to get through with what few ingredients remain…

No sugar, no wheat, no sleep...

I’m utterly exhausted – but hanging in. The guests are giving the stewardess and me a run for our money. Particular about their food, they are very health conscious but also have a lot of sensitiveness to what they eat; no dairy, no flour, no rice, no sugar (of any kind), but I don’t seem to be having any problems since my preference is to cook fairly healthy and I much prefer the use of herbs, spices, lemons, good olive oil and sea salt to butter and cream (not that I don’t love those things too). The guests preferences weren’t over my head, but for the fact that none of this was listed on the preference sheets and therefore I didn’t provision expecting guests that ate semi-vegetarian and now that we were out at sea, in the middle of nowhere (well, sort of) and there were requests for pureed green soups, sugar free - wheat free muffins, and salads, salads, salads – I knew my provisions were not enough!

I expected challenging requests going onto a charter yacht – I love the challenges. That is why I do this, and the preference sheets usually go out the window once you speak to the guests anyway. Just my luck, having grown up in the “granola crunchy” capital of the world (Northern California) and gone through my own periods of vegan and vegetarian dieting, many of the requests were really not a stretch for me, and I think I’m fortunate in that sense. I know some chefs that would be tearing their hair out at the thought of no dairy products, flour or sugar – and believe me, I’m definitely being challenged…

On the first day, I prepared a vegetarian Mediterranean buffet – grape leaves stuffed with brown rice and chick peas, lemon-tahini sauce, grilled eggplant salad with mint and lemon, white bean salad with oregano vinaigrette, cucumber and tomato salad and whole grain pita bread. The guests raved and decided that they wanted the “multi-salad” spread every day for lunch. This works out to about 34 salads by the end of charter and would definitely ensure a dilemma since the guests want everything buffet style and therefore I cannot exercise quantity control over my quickly diminishing fresh vegetables provisions… Day 6 and I’ve made 22 salads thus far – and that’s only lunch…

The guests absolutely love my food – and I mean LOVE. They have been raving to the captain and raving to me, to the point of it getting embarrassing! It’s great that they love my food – but this also means that they haven’t and will not be getting off of the yacht for any meals out and I haven’t seen the light of day in, jeez, I can’t even recall the last time I was above deck…

I look out my galley porthole every day and observe that the palm trees have changed or that the water is a different shade of blue from the last location we were in – and that is the extent of my out door observations. For entertainment, I’ve taken to flinging my organic food scraps out the porthole window in the galley – it’s great fun. I throw them out the window and within seconds I can hear the fish splashing around outside going after the scraps of whatever I’ve tossed. There could be a 12 foot tiger shark waiting out there for my scraps, or a killer whale for that matter. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t had time to look…


Day 6 of the charter - only three days left – and my first chance to write…

The guests are not vegetarians, but do they love their veggies and after the first day I knew it was going to be a difficult task to meet their demands. Fresh veggies are scarce in the Caribbean because absolutely everything has to be imported and most islands only receive produce deliveries once a week. So, good produce is not easy to come by and there are very, very few decent places to provision in the BVI’s. I thought I’d stocked up well before we left St. Martin, but the guests asked for crudités twice a day, pureed vegetable soups, lots of salads, etc. and even with the ample refrigeration – their demands were going to deplete what I had within a few days.

We are doing some serious cruising too – picking up anchor and moving locations two, three times a day – no time to shop! I told the captain after the first day that I would need to find somewhere to provision along the way since the guests were such veggie maniacs. Once I put together a new provisions list for fruit and vegetables, the captain made a call to a provisioner in the Virgin Islands – and amazingly, and for an astronomical fee I’m sure, the order was delivered straight to the yacht, in the middle of nowhere! Just goes to show, with enough money you can have anything you want in this world. I want sleep – but apparently I can’t afford it.



My day starts around 6am baking muffins and slicing fruit for a fruit platter, preparing eggs, making a bread starter and prepping for lunch. Our stewardess makes fresh squeezed orange and grapefruit juice, tea and coffee.

The guests finish up breakfast sometime around 9:30 am and by 10am we’re getting ready to set sail. I’m usually preparing lunch while we’re sailing so I’m cooking in the galley at a 45 degree angle. Apparently I’ve conquered my sea sickness. A year ago, I’d be on the floor green with seasickness and ready to die. Today, I just lean into the upward side of the boat for balance and try to keep the olive oil or the knives from flying across the galley and landing on my foot. The worst part I find now about cooking under way is that I can’t wash up my dishes in the sink because the drains don’t work when we’re healing to our port side. And, I can’t open my portholes so it gets really, really hot and if I open up the top hatch, my herbs, garlic and onion peels start blowing everywhere! It’s a really pain in the arse…

I lay out yards of non-skid on the counter tops so things don’t roll away as I’m cooking. Today, the guests took a reprieve from their non-dairy eating and asked me to make a dessert – so, at a 45 degree angle and in 22 knots of wind I made individual bittersweet molten chocolate cakes wrapped like parcels in filo dough, and with crème englaise and a raspberry coulis to accompany it. I also managed to steam off three lobsters, sear some tuna, blanch snow peas and make a couple of salads. Lunch had to be served the moment we dropped anchor…



By 1:30pm lunch is served. The guests take their time so lunch extends until about 2:45. Meanwhile, I’m in the galley prepping for dinner and the stewardess is ironing and taking care of the guests. By 3pm, the galley is cleaned up and lunch is put away. I crawl into bed and catch an hour or two of rest. 10 hours down, 5 to go… Horsd’ouvres go out by 7pm – some days it’s something as simple as crudités, other days it’s summer rolls filled with lobster and mango, or zucchini cups filled with an Asian slaw, or hummus and spelt pita chips. 7:30pm, the first course goes out. Dinner is done by 8:45 and the galley clean. By 9:30 I’m washing the sweat and grease off of me and getting ready to climb into bed. 10:15pm, I set my alarm – in a mere 8 hours it starts all over again…

One pill makes you big...

The job started five minutes after the interview and I hardly had time to get my belongings from the crew house. I had a mere 1 ½ days to familiarize myself with the galley and get all the provisions I needed before we set sail to the BVI’s for an eight day charter with four guests.

The galley is small, to say the least; tiny, in fact, but somehow well laid out and with a fair amount of counter space. However, my Mini-bake Oven in which I used to bake miniature cakes by the heat of a light bulb for my brothers when I was seven years old was bigger than the oven in this galley, and the electric burners aren’t much better. I felt like Alice in Wonderland after swallowing the pill that makes you big. I was a giant in this tiny Barbie kitchen. But, there are a few saving graces; a small but industrial dishwasher that washes up dishes and pots and pans in about 30 seconds – brilliant thinking on the part of whoever designed the galley. Then, through a small hatch in the floor of the galley (it get’s more and more Alice-in-Wonderland-like every moment), down into the bilge are 2 side-by-side low-boy refrigerators and freezers (a low-boy is a reach-in refrigerator that would normally be under the counter in your workspace in a restaurant kitchen). Now granted, I had to climb down a latter into a crawl space, in which I couldn’t even stand, in order to access the refrigeration, but still, this is one of the few yachts I’ve worked on where the refrigeration is adequate! Most yachts have tons of freezer space, more than is humanly possible to fill (although I always do) – but never enough refrigeration. Well, The Universe heard my prayers… I had tons and tons of refrigeration. As well, the crew quarters are, thankfully, designed for full-grown people, instead of the usual Halflings that most crew quarters are designed for. My bunk is big and comfy and by far, the best bed I have slept in all season and I share a cabin with our stewardess, also named Cristina (and spelled the same). But, her nickname with the crew is “princess”, and not because she’s nice… Ha! A hot-blooded Spanish woman to put those boys in place. Yes, Cristina and I hit it off instantly…

My first task aboard the yacht was to sort through the pantry and see what was already on board. Since the galley is small this wasn’t a huge task – two small cupboards, two big cupboards and four small storage spaces under the settee in the crew mess. Sorting was easy, apparently the regular chef on board is not a big fan of spices, there were maybe four bottles of spices that looked like they hadn’t been touched since 1979. So, I knew I’d need pretty much everything – cumin, coriander, turmeric, cinnamon, cloves, allspice, black peppercorns, cayenne, kosher salt, etc. He mustn’t have liked vinegars either, again – two bottles, hardly touched. And canned goods, it was mostly jarred pasta sauces, vegemite and pickles. I had a big shop ahead of me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what that chef could have possibly cooked with so few ingredients… But then I found out, 3 quarts of heavy crème in the refrigerator and several pounds of European butter. Ah ha, fat in place of flavor – it has its place, but not my style of cooking…

Next I had to read through the preference sheets from the charter agency and write out a grocery list. The guests weren’t big meat eaters and preferred as much organic ingredients as possible, they ate light and healthy, but other than that the preference sheets were fairly vague. By the afternoon of my first day I had to have my meat and fish order ready for the provisioner so that I could get my delivery by the next day.

Early my second morning I took off in the rental car to head to a tiny organic shop in Marigot where I cleaned out their shelves and stocked up on organic olive oils, grains, breads, beans, flours, sugars, jams and spices. Next I was off to the Grand Marche, the big grocery store, to stock up on fresh produce, eggs, milk, food for the crew, etc. I had four large shopping carts overflowing with onions, potatoes, zucchini, asparagus, fennel, salad greens, herbs, cereal, fruit, dozens of organic eggs, etc. I would be responsible for feeding 9 people breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next week and half – it was a lot to prepare for…

I returned to the yacht with the car packed up to the windows with grocery bags. The crew helped me unload with trip after trip. The stewardess unpacked all the groceries while I sorted, organized and stored. And of course, with every inch of counter space and floor space occupied by boxes and bags of ingredients – three giant coolers arrived filled with tuna, mahi, snapper, grouper, sea bass, clams, lamb and chicken. $4,000.00 later… There wasn’t time in the day to find every ingredient I wanted. The staples of my pantry including za’atar and sumac were at another grocery store in St. Maarten that I didn’t have time to hit. The kitchen was also desperately in need of a few new pans and trays to fit the tiny oven – but no luck, there just wasn’t enough time.

At 8:30am my third day, we pulled away from the dock at Palapa Marina and queued up with the other yachts set to depart through the 9am bridge opening at Simpson Bay. We hit the high seas and headed for Tortolla, an eight hour trip that I would spend working out my menus for the charter…

We arrived in Tortolla by 6pm, dropped anchor and headed by tender (tender = dingy) to The Bitter End for dinner and to enjoy our last night of freedom before the guests arrived…

My day in the sun...

“TAC, TAC, TAC’”, the captain yelled from the bow of the boat. The crew began to pull and grind. I scurried up to the top of the boat scraping my knees on the non-slip surface, scrambled to the other side, ducking under the boom and skipping over lines as they whizzed past my feet. The stay sail folded down and snapped as it was pulled to other side and then pulled taught again as it caught the wind. I fell down on my ass and threw my feet over the edge as the boat began to keel. “Rail Candy”, that was my position, adding weight to the keeling side of the yacht as we fought our way into 3^rd place in the “Bare Boat” class for the 27^th Annual Heineken Regatta in St. Martin.

If you’ve ever seen a racing yacht and seen all the people sitting on one side and hanging their feet over, that was me and 11 others on Sunday aboard a Swan 43’ in the final race of the Regatta – and it was a blast! The wind was blowing like crazy, between 15 and 22 knots, the best wind the Regatta has had in a few years. Last years races were cancelled because the sea was too calm, a mere 3 and 4 knots. But this year was great, and everyone was excited to be racing. I sat on the railing, waiting for the captain’s command to scurry to the other side. Waiting and watching, as beautiful sailing yachts, spinnakers out breezed past us. We were in a class of boats called “bare boats” because we only had a main sheet and a stay sail. The boat was a rental through Sunsail and the crew were a group of really lovely gentlemen from British Columbia who sail up in BC and make the Regatta a yearly habit.

Our crew shirts were fluorescent green and painted with tropical scenery of palm trees and beaches. They were an eyesore, and you could spot us from a mile away – which was perfect. I have pictures and will post them as soon as I get settled onto my new boat…

So, having gotten into the mood of sailing during the Regatta – I decided to accept a freelance position aboard a 40meter Parini Navi (that’s the build, it’s a gorgeous sailing yacht). I’ll be working a charter in the BVI’s for the next two weeks, with a chance of staying aboard for the month. The chef aboard severely injured his back and they aren’t sure if he’ll be making it back to finish off the season… We’ll see where the future leads…

Either way, in the next two months I’ll be heading to the Mediterranean, either by sea or by air – but I WILL be there for the season…

Gotta run, time to start provisioning for the charter! I’ll write all about it as time permits…

Diving Saba

The tiny prop plane rumbled to a stop as I dug my fingernails into the headrest in front of me and looked out the window in absolute shock. We had come to a screeching halt in less than a few seconds on, literally, the shortest runway in aviation history at a mere 440 yards, jutting out over the edge of a cliff. Incredibly, the airport on Saba has a perfect safety record! After dislodging my fingernails from the seat and disembarking from the little puddle jumper, I checked in at the tiny customs desk and jumped into a taxi with six others heading to the Ecolodge Rendezvous on Windwardside, located, of all places, on the windward side of this tiny 5 square mile island. The islands peak is 3000 feet high, so that 5 miles is literally vertical. The taxi made hairpin turn after hairpin turn, climbing ever higher up the mountainside.

The Ecolodge is nestled in the rainforest heading up to Mt. Scenery on the windward side. Made up of a series of distinct little cottages that dot the mountainside, each cottage is made of recycled materials and themed – Tree Frogs, Blue Tang (that would be my lodge!), Bird of Paradise, etc. the cottages are powered by solar panels, the toilets feed into a composting system, water is provided by rain collected in a cistern and warm showers by rainwater that has been warmed by the sun in a black “solar shower” bag and hung up on a hook in the stone floored bathrooms. Amongst the lodges are little outcroppings of basil, scotch bonnet peppers, baby lettuces, berries and tropical fruits and the lodge sports a tiny restaurant offering breakfast, lunch and dinner (by reservation only). A stone path winds from the lodge up to the peak of Mt. Scenery and down to the village of Windwardside. The path is dense with papaya, mango, banana and breadfruit trees pregnant with their tropical bounty; along with elephant ears, palm trees and numerous tropical flowers. Not an hour had passed and Saba was already my favorite island in the Caribbean.

After dropping my bags in my Blue Tang themed lodge, a quick nap, and a chat with a bright yellow lizard sunning himself on my windowsill I headed down the path to the dive shop. A happy fellow by the name of Peddy, of dutch ancestry and sporting a fantastic island accent, picked up a group of divers, myself included, and headed down to Fort Bay to meet the dive boat. The dive boat departed at 1pm and it seamed that no sooner had the boat had left the dock, we’d arrived at the mooring and were tying up; the mooring for the dive spot less than a mile from the dock and only a few hundred yards from the rocky craggily edge of the island. I was swept by a sudden bout of disappointment. How on earth could a dive be any good if it is only a few feet from shore, I thought to myself. I convinced myself that the dive shop knew I was a rooky and sent me on the kiddy dive and my heart sunk. As I slipped on my fins I reluctantly told myself that it was really only my first real dive and perhaps something conservative was a good idea. But so many people had told me how great diving Saba was, would I see the real thing? Noticing my distress, another dive on board said reassuringly, “don’t worry, you’ll like this spot”. The dive master appeared with a dry erase board and in a thick Italian accent she explained the layout of the reef and the dive plan and said that we would be diving to 80 feet. 80 feet! Maybe the dive wouldn’t be so bad after all, but was I ready for it? Before sending us on our way, she said, “an no-a harassing-g the sea life or the instructor. I don-n’t want to see any sea snakes or moon fish!”

I was paired up with Paula, a dive instructor working on the boat. I’d recognize her underwater by her hot pink fins. The other guests had all geared up and jumped in and Paula and I were last. After an equipment check Paula told me to jump in, descend to 10 feet, swim to the line and wait for her. Bubbles popped and whizzed around me from the divers below and I watched mesmerized as everyone slowly descended to the ocean floor. Soon, Paula’s hot pink fins were below me and I followed along as we descended down the line. I felt like I was making a lunar landing as I hovered above the sea bed as barren as the Mojave Desert. Little black eels poked out of the sandy ocean floor looking like plantings in a rice paddy in Vietnam, they retracted quickly disappearing into the sand as we floated above. We swam along and a barracuda observed us from a safe distance. As we approached the reef evidence of the underwater party going on was everywhere. Luminescent jawfish fluttered in the current vertical to the sand, leaping and dancing like flames and the vanishing into their little homes below ground. Deep water sea fans and sea plumes enormous in size and incredibly colored and detailed rustled in the gentle current and I was completely transfixed. I wanted to study one area in detail but the group swam ahead and I didn’t want to fall behind. Feather duster worms reminded me of long, lush false eyelashes. Angel fish in varying colors, butterfly fish, porcupine fish and the hilarious looking trunkfish swam all around me. I was so excited my heart raced but I dare not smile or I’d leak water into my mask. The colors were spectacular; lavender tube sponges and giant barrel sponges teaming with life; streaks of fluorescent green, purple and yellow corals branched across the stony face of the collapsed reef wall.

The group was focused intently in one direction. Paula tapped me and pointed to a crevice of rock and coral and out came the bright green head of a moray eel with electric blue eyes. We stared at each other captivated. I couldn’t look away from the eel, I felt like we were communicating in some sacred language. I was filled with awe. We continued down the reef. I checked my gauge, 2200 p.s.i. My buddy came by to check my gauge as well, I signaled to her – two fingers tapped against my left shoulder. She gave me the ok sign and showed me her gauge; I was doing well on air. We continued along and the terrain changed. Mammoth boulders rose up from below with schools of elegant black durgeon dressed for a ball, and the life of the party, the Sergeant Majors darting about. Our guide swam over to me and showed me her computer, 79 feet! She clapped and gave me a big OK sign. 1500 p.s.i., I signaled to our guide that my tank was half full. I positioned myself upside down and drifted downward exploring the edge of the cliff. Squirrel fish, those antisocial creatures hid from the excitement of the reef party in the crevices below. A motor rumbled in my ears, first I ignored it as ambient sound, like a car going by. Then I looked up and noticed two divers near the surface and my buddy’s hot pink fins racing up to get their attention, a boat buzzed overhead, and later I would learn that the captain was on the radio trying to get the guy out of the area…

We began to work our way back to the mooring. A stingray lay motionless in the sand hoping to avoid being noticed, but then jetted off, hovering at top speed to get away. 800 p.s.i., time to head in. I went to the line and did my 3 minute safety stop, then it was back to the boat. Our guide emerged from the water just after me, exclaiming, “it’s so beautiful, I just love being down there!”. Paula and I talked about everything we’d seen and she and the guide both said that I did a really good job and I’ll make a great diver. Returning to the dive shop, I immediately signed up for two more dives the next day and hoped the hotel and airline would accommodate my extended stay.

Diving Saba was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had, and this was by far one of the best trips I’ve taken. The people of Saba are warm and accommodating, and the island is the pinnacle of unspoiled natural beauty. Given that the island is a mass of volcanic rock shooting straight out of the ocean – there are no beaches, and thus, no resorts, the surrounding waters and much of the rainforest are protected marine and nature preserves. The island has a year round population of about 1200 people and receives around 30,000 visitors a year – a far cry from neighboring St. Barth and St. Martin that see that many visitors in a week! Saba is quiet and unspoiled, the perfect place for the wayward traveler who prefers kicking back in a hammock with a good book, and moving only as their will dictates.

• Ecolodge Rendez-vous
  

• SeaSaba Dive Shop
  

On to the next challenge

Do, or do not… There is no ‘try’. ~ Yoda

I love a good challenge. I love working on yachts – it’s a new challenge everyday; coming up with new menus, new ideas, organizing, planning, provisioning, and the unexpected little things that are thrown my way – a weird ingredient, the market running out of something essential, striving to work more organized and clean each every day. It’s like playing a game. Plus, I get to wake up in a beautiful new location every day, what’s better than that?

Yachts ranging in size from 130 to 150 feet have 9 to 12 crew and charter for upwards of $150,000.00, plus incidentals. On a yacht up to about 165 feet, their will be one chef that cooks for crew and guests. Larger than that, there are usually two chefs; one for the crew and one for the guests. My objective for this coming season is to get on a Mediterranean bound charter yacht (or one that is already based there) within that size range. I want it for the industrial kitchen, really; and for the nice budget; and a charter yacht so that I can put a little more pizzazz into the food and have a little more fun showing off; and for the big, wide rimmed Limoges dishes. Hey, a girl has to have standards.

I know I’ll be working my butt off, but I’m ok with that given the right circumstances. There is a certain comfort in knowing that the guests will be getting off of the yacht, that the trip will come to an end - ticking off each day as the end comes closer, it’s a celebrated yachty past time, that and end of charter drinks of course. Plus, with charter guests, it’s different with each group. One group could be vegans, the next week they could be really into Asian, or on a special diet – that’s the sort of stuff that thrills me. Cooking the same thing for the same people all the time drives me nuts. Charter guests tend to be more open about what they will eat, they want the experience and the fun because they are on vacation, a vacation they paid for handsomely.

I’ve been taking my scuba certification courses this week and have my final dive tomorrow. Then, I’m jumping on a plane to Saba to stay at the Ecolodge do some real diving. I know that when I start looking it is all going to happen rather quickly. I’ve already been approached by agencies looking for my resume because they have lots of chef positions to fill. I haven’t even sent out a single resume yet and I’ve already turned down one job and been turned away from another that isn’t open to Americans. Come Monday I’ll get back to the job of job hunting.

Burn y'ur cowboy hats...

Kean on getting on a yacht in the Med, I was excited when a friend of mine referred me to a captain that was looking for crew on a yacht already based there. We had exchanged a few emails and at least a phone interview seemed certain. But then, up came an email from the captain with an apology. The owners said, “No Americans”.

Ah, America, the country everyone loves to hate…

This was a striking phenomenon I heard about last season, yachts that would not hire American crew, but I hadn’t experienced it first hand until now. When I arrived in Fort Lauderdale in November about 40% of the job listings said “NO AMERICANS”. I asked around to captains and have gotten various answers:

1) American’s are more expensive to insure because we are prone to suing – some insurance companies, I was told, have clauses that will only allow one American crew member, or none at all.

2) We have a bad work ethic.

3) It’s a personal choice, Americans are loud and obnoxious, tend to be the trouble makers on the crew and don’t live/work well with others.

I’ve heard it first hand from crew that will not work on American yachts because they say the crew are lazy and too much to deal with. And sadly, I have to admit; I’ve been on enough yachts to know, there is some truth to that. It’s a tough nut to swallow, I’ll tell you that; especially for people like me who try and break the mold.

But, in our defense, I do think we are probably scrutinized a little more closely as well; but only because foreigners admire us so much and want to be just like us. So, behavior that may be ok by one nationality, say, like hooliganism by British footballers, long considered a sign of enthusiastic allegiance to their favorite football clubs and widely accepted and appreciated by the British general public – would be considered “loud and obnoxious” and frowned upon if the same behavior were exhibited by Americans. And what about zee French? They’ve practically legalized a poor work ethic with their government sanctioned 35 hour work weeks and a month of holiday a year. And dare we even mention the Spanish and Italians? They take naps in the middle of the afternoon for god sake! What kind of a work ethic is that? Americans have a work ethic; we’ll sacrifice our holidays, vacation, marriage, family, and physical and mental health for our jobs. I know people that wear the fact that they haven’t taken vacation in two years like a badge of honor (sadly, that will never be me. Me, of such weak constitution and poor work ethic). We’ve built a nation where families can’t afford health insurance or to have one parent at home to raise children because we love to work that much! All those European nations, they’re just taking a siesta because we’re doing all the hard work for them… Lazy slogs, I tell ya’. They’re all a bunch a lazy slogs.

And about all that suing; it’s really only because American’s have such a strong work ethic and put such importance on quality of life that we sue people. I mean, come on, if you’d worked a little harder to protect everything so that any and all foreseeable accidents or uncomfortable situations could be avoided, or if we just allowed showdowns and then people could just shoot it out... Or perhaps if we could just shoot all those lawyers and Washington lobbyists... oh wait, never mind.

Ok, well, I will keep my opinions to myself. Life goes on, there are many more yachts out there that are open to me and that are going to the Mediterranean, and this just makes me only want to double my efforts to not fall into the stereotype.

But if anyone with EU citizenship would like to marry me for, say, a nominal fee – I’m available.

UPDATE: After speaking with another captain I learned that it would cost him an additional $10,000.00 to insure one single American crew member just as delivery crew - for 1 week, not even a full time crew member.