Welcome again to KJ for some luxury virtual travel; something that is, for the time-being at least, a pipe dream.
Over the years, I have enjoyed several career paths, all of which have enriched my life in one way or another. My first foray into working was as a short-order cook, at fourteen years of age, which eventually grew into bartending and other restaurant positions, up to hotel management. These activities gave me a broad understanding of the workings of a kitchen, in a service environment. As I matured, in both age and abilities, I spent some time travelling from west to east, and north to south, in the USA for my business, and I paid some attention to the food service on different aircraft. In that environment, food is prepared and packaged separately, to be doled out to the folk on the aircraft sometime after take-off and, hopefully, before landing, from a tiny galley which is serviced by a dumbwaiter from the hold of the aircraft. So, there isn’t much about the preparation which causes me to wonder, nor do I expect a man (or woman) wearing a chef’s cap to wander into the passenger area asking us how we enjoyed our meal. This is probably a good thing, for I cannot fail to imagine the chaos that would have ensued, with trays of inedible food flying through the cabin at the perpetrator who would have claimed responsibility for our meals. There is this thing called karma, after all.
Some of our more renowned trains, such as South Africa’s Blue Train, considered by many to be the most elegant train experience in the world, do have chefs on board, who miraculously seem to be able to provide haut cuisine from what a New Yorker would consider a basic studio apartment, elongated, while rocking back and forth on the rails. Their ability to maintain their equilibrium, with a hot skillet in one hand and stirring with the other, while shifting about to allow the sous chef squeezing-by room, is a skill worthy of applause. The food prepared by these masters of their craft is enough to cause any food lover to salivate, just from reading the menu. Below is a sample of the Blue Train menu, but you view it at your own risk, for I accept no responsibility for moisture-damaged keyboards.
On the other end of the scale is the yacht where, on a decent-sized vessel of 120 feet or more, there is a primary galley (kitchen) below deck and a service galley next to the dining area on the main deck, which is accessed via a private stairway, so as not to have soup spilled on the public stairs – the latter of which are often carpeted, internally. I have to admit, I have a fondness for the sea, and have spent some time on the water, both professionally, and for pleasure. The example I am providing for this element is a rather nice 143-foot yacht, L’Albatros, which is currently on the market, and has such an arrangement of two galleys to support the guests.
This ship would be my ideal home-on-the-high-seas. ( I call it a ‘ship’ due to my experience with the captain of a 110-foot yacht, at a Florida marina, where I was an apprentice boat carpenter and, when asking permission to board his ‘boat’ to check the bilge pumps, I was told to stay on the dock until I ‘learned the difference between a boat and a ship.’ ) There is also a bar, on the upper deck of L’Albatros, to refresh those enjoying the sun on its outer deck or an afternoon lunch served al fresco, as well as another service area aft, on the first deck, for covered dining – not to mention the Jacuzzi area on the top deck. All in all, it’s a rather nice arrangement for the guests. The chef and his crew, on the other hand, have less space in which to produce their results than the crew on the Blue Train. Yet, they seem quite capable of providing exquisite meals while at sea, or dockside. You might well imagine what they could provide on a super-yacht, such as the 590-foot Azzam, would likely rival any Michelin four-star restaurant, when one considers the potential.
With the ‘elephant’ that is sitting outside our doors, worldwide, I cannot see myself on a plane, or a train, any time soon. Alternatively, the thought of spending time at sea, and only docking to refuel and renew the ships provisions, is an extremely attractive idea and has been causing repeated daydreams to interrupt my work habits. Unfortunately, I doubt my banker can be enticed to float a loan so I may acquire L’Albatros and enjoy fine dining on board, any time in the near future.
In keeping with my thoughts about dining at sea, tonight’s meal will be very simple: salmon baked with butter, lemon, and herbs de Provence, a side of rice, and a small salad of Romaine lettuce, cherry tomatoes and cucumber, in oil and vinegar. Simple fare, made in a small, but homey, German kitchen – on land.