Cooking With Gas - Boat Life #2 [Terry]

This was going to be a short blog about cooking aboard, but Terry thought some background on one of the challenges behind the 'simple' preparation of a meal might be interesting too:

 

One of the greatest dangers on board is gas, as in Propane, not petrol.  Which is bad also, but you don’t cook with that. Our boat has two “off” systems for propane.  Most boats have one.  Usually, the propane tanks are outside and in self-draining lockers, as propane is heavier than air and will sit if it is allowed free.  You do not want this in your bilge waiting for a spark.  For an example of what this would look like, check out this photo

http://cruisingoutpost.com/2013/01/crash-test-boat-put-misery/

(you might need to cut-and-paste this)

To avoid this, boats are fitted with “sniffers’ down low as the propane will settle.  They are also fitted with a solenoid, normally on the electrical panel, that shuts off gas supply somewhere along the line.  As an additional measure, it is wise to turn off the gas bottle if you are leaving the boat.  Some really nervy types insist on turning it off after it is used each time.

We don’t do this BUT we have a second “off” system fitted.  We have installed a shut-out valve a couple of inches from the gas bottle itself.  It also has a sniffer in the bilge (so we have 2).  The advantage of this second switch is that if it smells gas it turns it off at the bottle, whilst the original one turns it off nearer the stove.  It’s only a small amount of gas but it could make the difference between a “pop” and a “boom”.

The disadvantage of our second switch is that it draws 3 amps to relay messages back and forth about whether it can smell something and whether it should stay open.  If you forget to switch it off, it gets unbelievably hot!  The first time we encountered this was the day it was fitted.  The guy who fitted it went home and left it on. We found it nearly smoking and we had no idea what to do – we hadn’t been introduced to the switch panel at this stage.  Solution?  Cut the wires.  That worked.

The upshot of it all is that to cook on our stove, first you must touch the Firebox control panel to switch that on, then go over to the electrical panel and turn on the solenoid.  It will only allow gas through if both are on.  Then you have to remember to turn them both off.

To top all this off, it is extremely difficult to find propane in Europe where we are.  You can get it north (better than Butane/Camping Gas in the cold) but not in US bottles.  And no-one will fill a US bottle due to nanny-state regulations.  We did find a chap in Portugal who would, and the chap in the workshop in this marina fills them with butane with no problem.  In the EU, though, it is usually not possible.  Even in the US it was hard to find filling stations, as most have gone to the more common exchange system.  However, we don’t want to exchange our bottles as they are extremely expensive aluminium bottles for marine use and cost $200 each.  I made up a gas line that will fit into our supply to the boat and still allow both the alarm/safety switches to operate so we can use European gas (Camping Gaz) in the future.

 

[Carol] So now we're ready to cook. We can store a reasonable amount of canned and dry food in our dry store and pantry, and even in some nooks and crannies behind the cabin seats and under the floorboards. Common Sense has a small fridge with a little freezer (which is not cold enough for ice-cream, according to the sweeter-toothed amongst us) and we use nets for some fresh fruit and veges. Typically we make a base using stuff from our store (pasta, rice, tacos, cous-cous etc) and buy fresh meat or fish, eggs and vegetables, from local markets each day. Food from the markets in Portugal, Spain, Morocco and Tunisia has been wonderful, especially the fresh fish, the delicious earthy-smelling vegetables and whatever fruit is in season (oranges here at the moment - the best I've tasted.) And the bread <3

 

 

Our best acquisition for the galley has definitely been the pressure cooker - quick, high pressure cooking saves gas, saves overheating the cabin and saves time. (When we're at sea, I spend as little time as possible down below, the best way to avoid queasiness.) It also makes food really tender and delicious. One of our favourites is also the simplest - chicken (or turkey), whatever veges are available, lentils or other grains, and stock - 10 minutes in the PC and you have a wonderful rich soup to warm you up on a cold windy night. As you can see, the galley is a bit smaller than Terry's Masterchef kitchen at home, but we manage surprisingly well.

For Australia Day, we made batches of lamingtons and meat pies to share with the French cruisers at our weekly barbecue. They were quite a hit, as was the Vegemite - with fresh baguettes and butter, at least half a dozen newbies were won over to its delights.

 

For next week's blog, I'll take you shopping at the local market.

 

 

Boat Life #1

On our recent trip home, quite a few people asked me questions about day-to-day life aboard Common Sense – what do we do about shopping, cooking, cleaning? How do we do the laundry and get rid of rubbish? What about showers and toilets? How do we get around? What do we do with all our stuff in such a small living space? So I figured it was time, while we are sitting here in Monastir for the winter, to try to capture a sense of this semi-nomadic lifestyle aboard a 42 ft (12.6 metre) sailing yacht.

So, keeping in mind that everything is more challenging than on land, let’s start with something relatively simple – laundry. We don’t have a washing machine so there are two options: hand-wash it or save it all up until you get to a marina or harbour. While we’re making a passage there isn’t really much point in changing your clothes unless you get horribly wet and miserable. You can hand-wash undies in a basin or bucket if you want/ need to, remembering that on a long passage, fresh water is precious and cannot be wasted. On parts of the Atlantic passage I was wearing so many layers that it was like an archaeological dig trying to go to the toilet – make that an archaeological dig during an earthquake – and clean clothes were the last thing on my mind. Once you’ve hand-washed things, they can be strung up colourfully on the various lines and halyards of the boat where they will be encrusted with salt spray, fine grit and rust stains before being blown overboard.

I prefer to save everything in a laundry bag until we arrive at a new marina or port. After solving the puzzle of how to check in with the Police, Harbour Control, Customs, Immigration and whoever else needs to know, the next challenge is to work out how to do the washing. In the USA, every little marina had a laundry with coin-operated washing machines and dryers, the prices and reliability of the machines varying somewhat from place to place. Many of the laundries also had book exchanges and other social amenities and were a good place to meet and chat with other boaters. In the Bahamas (where we wore far fewer clothes) it was a matter of asking around until you found the local Laundromat – typically operated by a large authoritative lady who managed quite efficiently considering the variability of the power supply in many places.

Marina laundries in Portugal were expensive – we found that a large load could be washed, dried and folded by a team of amiable local women for less than it cost to feed the marina machines with the necessary supply of tokens (which, inconveniently, had to be purchased from the office about half a kilometre away). In Morocco and Tunisia, we have had to track down local people who take in laundry. I always like to try to contribute a few Australian dollars to the local economy and it’s another way to meet folks other than our fellow cruisers. Like this lovely lady in Monastir, for example, who, as well as doing a fine job with the washing, patiently helps me to improve my French each week. Stay tuned for next week's exciting episode on creating culinary masterpieces in a two square metre  kitchen!

Where the Heart Is

We've had a wonderful few weeks catching up with dozens of old friends and loved ones and we are endlessly grateful to all the kind people who have offered us a place to stay, a meal, a coffee, a few drinks or some entertainment (including our first games of croquet and indoor beach volleyball, a surprise haircut and an early morning swim with a pug!) Thanks for all that, and for listening to our stories, even the ones you've heard before. Quite a few friends are planning to join us for some time on Common Sense over the next couple of years and we are really looking forward to welcoming them aboard.

Beach at Bunbury

Our month at home coincided precisely with a record heatwave with most days over 40 degrees Celsius, and one day the hottest ever recorded across Australia as a whole. Whew! In spite of the heat we were really able to appreciate the good things about home - the beauty of the bush and the coastline; the fact that everything looks clean, cared-for and prosperous compared to nearly everywhere else we've been, the friendliness and competence of almost everyone we dealt with in shops, offices and other services. Only real dislikes - the traffic and the prices!

Perth City from South Perth

We've decided to come home each year from now on - two years is too long away. So now it's time to head back to Common Sense - two long flights, an 18 hour layover in Doha and a three hour train trip away - and we'll see all you lovely people again in 11 months time if you don't visit us earlier, somewhere in Malta, Greece or Turkey.