Cruising On the Briney

Standin' on the dock at Southampton..

We like to cruise.  When I say we’ve been on a cruise, people always want to know:  What was it like?  Before I can answer, prejudgments break out like a teenager who’s dropped his Clearasil.

“I don’t want to hang out with a bunch of geezers!”

“If a close friend ain’t dead, I ain’t wearin’ no coat and tie!”

“You don’t really get to see anything.”

“I hear the food is terrible.”

“I don’t wear diapers and I don’t want to be rocked to sleep!”

“Cruises are a big rip off!”

We’ve taken three cruises, not counting a long ago adventure when our main preoccupations were wiping noses and changing diapers.

Baltic.  British Isles & Ireland. Western Mediterranean.

We recently returned from the Western Med. Before I get too drunk to write, please indulge some of my observations, which both agree and disagree with the previous comments.  I’ve been a fence sitter so long my thighs have splinters.

I like cruises.  Lots of reasons.  First off, it’s an easy get-away.  Relax while somebody else makes the bed, turns down the covers, leaves bites of chocolate on the pillows, presents splendid meals, cleans up afterwards, brings a double Manhattan while I lounge by the pool, soaking up the sun and watching bikinis pass in review.  No sudden phone calls that make me gallop this way and that.  Roof never leaks, and if it does, somebody else fixes it.

Feel like working up a sweet sweat?  Off to the well-equipped gym, followed by a soak in the hot tub. 

Watch the bursting sunrise and dreamy sunset.  Join friends for a nightcap, in a fabulous bar overlooking the wide, blue sea.

Meet new people.  We usually sign up for sit-down dinners.  Assigned tables. Wait-staff in black and white.  Let’s us relax and chat with people face to face, over a sumptuous meal, while we pry into private lives and public opinions.

Onboard, I go to every announced meeting.  Veterans.  On this last trip I hung out with some new RAF buddies.  Drinkers Without Borders.  Yep, great group. Lectures on history and art.  Previews of the next port.

Chatted amicably over coffee and eggs with complete strangers from around the world.  UK, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Nigeria, Jordan, India, the Philippines, Alabama, and New Jersey.

Funny how when we’re in the States, people from different parts of the country, or even adjoining states are suspicious of each other.  Northerners aren’t fond of southerners.  Southerners think Yankees are stuck up and rude.  People from Georgia make fun of people from Alabama.  Then all of a sudden, you find yourself far from home and hear a familiar accent.  You’re American?  Come on, Buddy, I’ll buy you a drink.  Oh, you’re from England?  Why damn, we’re first cousins!

I always learn something interesting.  A Filipina wine steward told us about her kids, staying with grandparents.  Her husband just quit his job to go back to be with them.  She misses her family everyday, but she still has a beautiful smile when she brings us our wine.

Ever hear of a “cool shooter?”  Fellow from Yorkshire, England, described one of the on-board singers as “E’s sooch uh bot singa, E cutn’t b uh cool shooter.”  His wife translated.  When the guy was a youngster, “Coal Shouters” would roll their barrows down the street yelling for people to come out and buy coal.  “He’s such a bad singer, he couldn’t even be a coal shouter.”

Professor from Jordan, now an American University Professor, ranted at me about how everything bad in the world is America’s fault.  I managed not throw up as I left the breakfast table.

Cracking king crab legs, we met an Australian couple that had toured extensively in the U.S.  Been a few places I hadn’t.  They plan on going back, soon.  Americans are friendly, they said. Prices are reasonable.  Such a big country!

So many things to do on a cruise.  Bingo. Ukulele lessons. Dance lessons.  Massages at the spa. Photo instruction. Cooking lessons.  Martini demonstrations. Music of every sort, every day.  Floor shows.  Magicians.  Acrobats. Comedians. Games.

Ukulele Recital in the Ship's Piazza

Tried to participate in trivia:  One-hit wonders from the 70’s and 80’s in the UK.  Tunes and performers.  With quite a bit of help, we managed 9 out of 42.  The martini was excellent.  The winner had a perfect score. 

Ok, how about some specifics on the aforementioned complaints.  Bunch of geezers:  If you cruise when school is out, you’re likely to have a bigger mix of ages and infirmities. Families like to include, grandma, grandpa and the four kids.  Also, the Mediterranean is definitely the most popular spot for families.  Might want to stay away from the bigger ships.

Food.  Our experience on two big ships and one medium ship is that the food is excellent.  Paid extra for a steak in the Grill Room and it was worth every cent.

Well over 200 on the cooking staff.  They prepare about 16,000 meals a day.

Carpaccio with fruit compote

Aged beef...best steak I've had in a long time!

Bread pudding

There may be one or two or three formal nights in the assigned seating dining rooms, but no one forces you to attend.  Head straight to the ‘anytime eating’ if that’s your preference.  Formal nights also mean different things on different cruise lines.  Sometimes it’s merely coat and tie for gents, or just a coat.  Sometimes it’s more.

Big ship or small ship:  Big ships generally have 3000+ passengers.  But, they’re built for it, meaning crowding is not a problem and meals are not slow or inadequate.  Usually three swimming pools and bigger everything else.  More entertainment.

Medium ships:  About 1000-1200 passengers.  Less entertainment. 1 or 2 swimming pools.  A bit less crowded.  Service is still great.  Often the medium to small ships (500-800 passengers) can get into smaller ports, or the itinerary can be a bit farther off the beaten track.

Big and Medium ships ride the waves magnificently.  Sometimes I’ve been rocked gently to sleep, but only when there was a raging gale outside.

Ripoff?  On a 12 day cruise, you will stop at 6-8 ports.  Per person cost for an interior cabin is around $2000.  Cost for a balcony cabin is around $3000.  Those are general numbers, so think plus or minus $500.  Now think of visiting 6 to 8 major port cities without a cruise.  Add in the hotel, meals, and transportation.  You might also add in the time factor.  Think you can do it in 12 days?

Ok, you’re got your itinerary picked out.  Now, which cruise line?  A good place to start is cruisecritic.com.  Read about every cruise line and every one of their ships and every one of their cruises.

When things are a toss up, many experienced cruisers pick the newest ship.

This summer, we saw Gaudi’s cathedral in Barcelona, prowled an open air market and drank wine and ate cheese in Corsica, sauntered through the coliseum, the Sistine Chapel and St Peter’s, rubbed shoulders with the fabulously wealthy in Monaco, and did it all within our means. 

Yep, the people who don’t like cruises, probably either had a bad experience, or have not yet taken a cruise.  Fair enough.  Meanwhile we’re planning our next one.

Hey, folks, this was only the opening….specific travel adventures to follow!

The Collini Case by Ferdinand von Schirach, translated by Anthea Bell

A man walks into a bar…well, not quite.  A man walks into an apartment.  He’s Fabrizio Maria Collini and he’s middle aged and has never murdered anyone.  That’s about to change.  He kills with a rawness that turns your stomach and rakes your flesh.

This is a rare novel.  Grabs you and won’t let go.  Fiction based on truth.  The laws exist.  The characters do not.

Schirach tells Colini’s story brilliantly, through the eyes of the public defender.

Köhler is an advocate with a quick mind and a sparkling academic record.  What he doesn’t have is experience.  This is his first case.  On the other side, the prosecutor carries a streak of unbroken successes and a reputation for digging through overturned lives and using facts as skillfully as a sushi chef slicing tuna.

Köhler’s job won’t be easy. Collini tells him, “I killed a man.”  He doesn’t want to be defended and he doesn’t want to talk about his reasons.

Köhler’s own background also offers layers of both sweetness and sadness, dusted with unfulfillment.  Love. Relationships.  They wind and unwind throughout the book, in twisted strands.

Like all good courtroom dramas, The Collini Case wriggles and turns like a snake impaled on a sharp stick.  The writing is brisk, lean and sharp, like strokes of a razor.  In something over 180 pages, the prose magically flutters past like clots of blood in a heavy wind.

I read a lot of book jackets, mining for those rare gems that will chain me to the plot and characters, leaving me sleepless and ravenous for just one more page.

The Collini Case is among the crown jewels.  The story is skillfully terse, with a pace that will suck the air from your lungs.  Why does one man simply walk into an apartment and kill another? How can you defend such indefensible and senseless brutality?  How do you defend a client who refuses to talk to you, or to the police?

The problem stands as impenetrable as a stone wall, but even a wall, if you look closely enough, is marred by cracks and fissures. They spread in all directions and time grows short.

Fissures never reveal more than slender promises.  When you find what you think is a diamond of truth, it suddenly proves to be only sparkling ice on a summer sidewalk.

And yet, there are always more cracks and you soon realize eventually you will reach bedrock.

The Collini Case surpasses simple, well-written entertainment.  It’s also education, of the kind that leaves you questioning the very fabric of society.  But, let me warn you, the answers do not rest on the well-worn saws of “it’s society’s fault” and “he wasn’t given enough love as a child.”  Those are cheesecloth, allowing any kind-hearted argument to drip through.

No.  The Collini Case rest on cold, solid facts and its telling will enthrall you and strain your confidence in right and wrong.

Speaking of Boulangeries - Le Pain Quotidien

I avoid ‘chains.’  Not talking about the medieval versions that make your soul quiver when you play Lord and Serf.  I’m talking about restaurant chains.  Yes, I include Gimmeyerbucks and McBurgers.

Ok.  I do sin occasionally.  And, I swear I’m sorry. Sometimes a man’s gotta have a smack of caffeine anyway he can get it.  But, in the main, when it comes to the big names in fast food, as they say in French, “I defecate upon thy hands with the full force of my churning bowels.

Recently, a close friend introduced me to Le Pain Quotidien, a bakery and coffee shop in the heart of Mons, Belgium.  But, wait a sec…it’s not just in Mons, but in damn near every country that has running water.  Gotta be a mistake.  Can’t be a …dare I mention the word again…CHAIN!  Yes, it is.

Alain Coumont opened his first one in 1990 on 16 Rue Darsaert in Brussels.

What’s so special about Le Pain Quotidien?  How come this chain doesn’t deserve the same retching disgust we reserve for microwave burgers and vending machine coffee?

By the way, in English, Le Pain Quotidien means The Daily Bread.  Daily bread means what it says.  Fresh is the key word.  More than that, everything in this bakery is organic.  Preservatives, flavor enhancers, artificiality, all be damned!

LPQ has the kind of charm that makes you step inside, even if you’ve just finished breakfast.  Authentically, rustic décor.  An irresistible waft of fresh bread. The almost erotic allure of freshly ground coffee. 

You can read all about the history of Le Pain Quotidien on their web page, and also learn where to find the nearest outlet.  http://www.lepainquotidien.com/our-story-history/#.U5WIZhYajwI

But, as always, I’ll give you a thumbnail sketch.  Alain trained as a chef and earned his toque in the same hotel restaurant where his father trained.  But he came by his passion for fresh bread in the best way possible, at his aunt’s knee, baking loaves and tarts on Sunday mornings.  There’s no substitute for the glowing passions you acquire in childhood.

As a chef, he searched all over Brussels for the taste he remembered.  No luck.  Only one thing to do.  Start your own bakery.  His idea was simple:  “Having a place where I can feel at home away from home.”

To me, chains are too often a glitzy failure of artificial atmosphere: an English pub with plastic, pseudo-wood, or a grand old steakhouse, remembered with glass, steel, and recessed lighting.  Doesn’t fool you anymore than replacing a leather basketball with a balloon. Dishonesty comes to mind, followed quickly by stupidity.

Le Pain Quotidien didn’t cut the corners, or introduce a substitute for real charm. It just feels right and inviting.  Lots of old wood, including the counters.  Faded walls look as though they carry the patina of decades.  Chairs creak a bit.  But, the most important part of this bakery is the bread.  Loaves on shelves where you can see them. Fresh. Fresh. Fresh. Crusty and wholesome.

The coffee is dark and rich, without being bitter, or ragged on the edges.  Comes in a bowl, just the way Alain’s hot chocolate did when he was a boy.  Your choice of a large bowl or small.

It was early morning.  I ordered a coffee and a croissant.  Golden. Light. Flaky. Delicious.  Just as a croissant should be.  If you’re thinking crescent roll, get your mind out of the school lunchroom and into somewhere more Gallic.  At LPQ, the croissants are light as air.  Try a smear of orange marmalade, or one of LPQ’s delectable sweet nut spreads. They’re on every table.

You won’t be sorry.  And you’ll find time to linger.  This isn’t just breakfast, this is the start of a beautiful day.

I know I’ve got time.  Who hasn’t got time for another glimpse of childhood on a sunny morning. “Mademoiselle, un autre café, s'il vous plaît.”

Steak and Ale Pie - Another English Gift

Meat pies are the staples of English pub cuisine.  Well, I guess you have to add fish & chips to make it a full menu.

The most common English meat pie, Shepherd’s Pie I’ve already written about, given you a recipe, and done every bloody thing I can do for you besides strolling into your kitchen and slaving over your stove.

http://stroudallover.blogspot.de/2012/07/english-cuisine-is-underrated-shepards.html

So, have you plucked up some courage and made that one yet?  You have?  Well, I take back all I said and Bravo! for you. Still basking in the glow of success and well wishes?  I thought so.

Now I’ve got another savory treat and one I often lust for, especially when I’m nesting in an English pub, with a pint of Real Ale in hand.

Steak and Ale Pie, or steak and ale pudding, if you prefer, is a rich concoction that’ll make you put down that pint of ale and unsheathe your trusty spoon.  For fighter pilots salivating over this, just remember I said ‘trusty spoon’ not ‘rusty spoon.’

Onward…I have to give a nod to The Hairy Bikers, from Lovefood.  I used their recipe, but not exactly.  Do you ever follow a recipe without making some twists and turns?  I don’t.  Can’t be helped.  You’re out of this, or can’t find that, or just think your way might better satisfy the hungry masses.

In this case, my son and I concocted and cooked together.  And, I don’t mean I just asked him to stir now and then.  Nope.  We truly cooked this dish together.  Just wanted to get that straight in case you think I easily step aside to reward somebody else with the credit. When it comes to cooking, relatives get no special breaks. He cooked.

So, now that I’ve wasted time with nods and kudos here and there, let’s get to the heart of a dish that will thrill and delight even the pickiest eaters, with the most ungrateful attitudes.  You know of whom I speak.  Our so-called loved ones.

Steak and Ale Pie  (start early – taking 2 hours to cook, not counting another hour or two of prep and pre-cooking)

Puff Pastry, I used a package of Pepperidge Farms.   Very good and puff pastry is a bitch to make.

5 Tablespoons sunflower oil

8 oz bacon, chopped or cut into thin strips

2 Onions, diced

5 Cloves garlic, diced

2 lbs of rump roast, fat removed and cut into 1 inch cubes (2 lbs after fat removal. A little more meat won’t hurt.)

A quart of ale. (I used a dark, German variety)

A pint of beef stock. (I used two heaping tablespoons of Bovril English beef extract, dissolved in a pint of warm water.)  For my money, Bovril is the richest of beef extracts and you want this beef stock to be almost black with richness.

1 Heaping Tablespoon tomato paste

4 Sprigs of thyme, leaves stripped from the stalks

3 Heaping Tablespoons cornstarch, blended with enough cold water to make it very creamy

½ Pound mushrooms, quartered

2 Tablespoons butter

1 Egg, scrambled (for painting the crust before baking)

Salt and Pepper to taste….when it tastes almost right, add a little more pepper.

We used three cooking pots:  A 12 inch cast iron skillet, a 12 inch round enamel casserole pan with a lid, an 8 by 13 inch glass-oven-proof casserole dish.

1.     Heat one tablespoon of oil in the skillet, then add the bacon.  Before the bacon starts to crisp, add the onions and garlic and cook until the onions are golden.  Use a slotted spoon to transfer the bacon-onion-garlic mixture to the 12 inch round casserole pan.

2.     Heat the oven to 350ºF (180ºC)

3.     Cook the steak in the skillet (small batches work best) until well browned. Add oil as necessary and transferred each batch of cooked meat to the round casserole pan.

4.     Deglaze the skillet with half the ale, scraping up the bits from the bottom.  Pour this over the beef/onion/bacon in the round casserole pan.

5.     Add the remaining ale, tomato paste, stock, and herbs to the casserole pan. Return to the stovetop and bring everything to a boil.  Put on the lid and slide it in the pre-heated oven for an hour and a half.

6.     Remove the casserole pan from the oven, put it on the stovetop, add the cornstarch mixture and stir until thickened.  Set it aside to cool a bit.

7.     Turn the oven up to 400ºF (200ºC)

8.     Heat 2 Tablespoons of butter in the skillet and add the mushrooms.  Cook until golden. Add them to the meat mixture.

9.     Pour the meat mixture into the oven-proof-glass casserole dish.

10.  Roll out the puff pastry.

11.  Paint the edges of the glass casserole dish with egg (so that the pastry topping sticks to the edges of the dish).  Stretch the pastry over the meat mixture and use a knife to poke holes in it. (this allows steam to escape)

12.  Paint the pastry topping with the remaining egg and pop the casserole dish in the oven for another 30-35 minutes, or until the pastry is puffed and lightly brown.

If you’ve done things right, this pie will be so thick and rich that conversation will cease and in no time you’ll have some Olivers, bowls in hand, pleading pitifully, ”Please sir, may I have some more?”

I left out the steps about keeping the ale flowing while the Pie cooks.  A big red wine also works well. Your hungry guests may get testy if they’re left with time on their hands and beer on their minds.

You might consider putting out some Stilton and crackers, or perhaps some mild Gorgonzola. But, not too much.  This meal is filling by itself.