Day of departure. Well, after consulting the internet weather sites, Joshua and his dad made the decision that that big dotted area with the word all in caps “GALE” smack between us and Baja meant we’d wait an extra couple of days to leave. This was probably for the best since I still hadn’t completed construction of a second story to the boat in which to store all the crap we desperately need for this trip. Things like the twelfth extra flashlight and whistle-thingy that barely makes a sound but seems like we might want it or something and so I therefore have to add another wing to my second story to store it. You know those pastel sticky tabs you get at office depot and use to mark important passages in business documents? We have some on board. And I know exactly where they are.

Day two. Weather still wonky and coming from the south (!!!), which is super weird (!!!) for these parts and so we’re staying put for another day. Bleargh. Rainy day/South wind projects = finishing the soft storage cabinets in the galley (yay—now I can put away all those lightweight bulky items like the salad spinner). Going to Home Depot, which always takes two trips because we either forget something the first time or else end up returning the item we bought because we found it elsewhere for $1 less and therefore we must make a 10-mile trip to SAVESAVESAVE. And driving around in our Volvo reminds us that we still have to sell it before leaving. So we can’t leave anyway. We also drank probably three bottles of wine in an effort to lighten our little boat’s load, so at least something got accomplished today.

Day fiftybillion. The previous evening had us fielding calls from excited hippies from places like Sevastopol and Petaluma about the Volvo. Every person who called wanted us to drive the Volvo to him because (duh) he didn’t have a car but (duh) we’d no longer have one and damned if we’re hitching back from Petafreakinluma. The great compromise had the buyer catching a ride with a friend to Oakland where we (actually Jeff, because he volunteered) would meet at the corner of 9th and Broadway to make the big deal, then the buyer driving Jeff back to SF to catch the train back to San Mateo where he would have to walk back to the marina. Of course Joshua ripped the end off the delicate wee antennae cable that morning so a trip to Radio Shack/CompUSA/Fry’s had to be made (carless) so Joshua walked to San Mateo to meet up with Jeff and set out on a most excellent electronics adventure. I stayed here, completed not only a second story but a third and got the last of the stuff put away.

So we thought we’d maybe get out tonight with the outgoing tide but the wind is totally dead (what the) and Brigid is visiting so we’ll take her out for sushi in exchange for shamelessly taking advantage of the car situation.

We’ll get out of here tomorrow.

Yep now we’re on the boat. It’s a carefree and stylish existence; I just took my first shower in I-actually-forgot-how-many days. There is CRAP, utter crap, stacked on every single available surface including all surfaces available. We’re attempting to figure out how to put everything away and keep losing the pen when we need to add something to the shopping list. The shopping list goes something like this: Light bulbs, 12V charger for Jeff, almanac, tampons, fender washers, bread. I thought I’d have a picture of just how insane this place is but I can’t remember where I put the camera box.

Camera box found. Behold the insanity of the head. And the forward bunk area.

We are now off to the wonderland of REI because Jeff has been out at sea on a tug for 6 whole months and is DYING to go consume products.

We’re out of the apartment tomorrow and here is just one view of the utter chaos that is our apartment and boat and busywearebusyack and Joshua’s dad arrived this afternoon days before we thought he’d get here but he had to fly and not drive because he’s been at sea for 6 months and his driver’s license expired for god’s sake.

First off, this being my first Let’s Cooking!! entry, I must lay out a few things.

I don’t follow recipes very well. Even if I’m the one writing the recipe, there’s no guarantee that it’s actually what I cooked myself to produce the fabulousness that inspired me to share. I don’t measure very well because I have no patience and am suspicious at such exacting ingredient amounts such as “one cup and two tablespoons.” You might be required to just figure out for yourself what “one glass of” or “the red bowlful” means. Sorry about that.

(If this irritates the bejeebers out of you, don’t feel alone; Joshua goes nearly insane every time “we” try to cook together from a recipe. If the man was in charge of the culinary arts around here we’d surely clutter up the boat with kitchen scales and the like.)

Oh, and ‘t’ means teaspoon and ‘T’ means tablespoon; ‘c’ means cup.

Stovetop “Naan”
(Don’t even waste time wondering why I put the “Naan” in quotes.)

Ingredient list (with modifications):
* 1t yeast (The first time I made this I used a full packet, which turns out has 2.5 teaspoons of yeast. Who knew. Nothing happened out of the ordinary as far as I could tell except it rose faster. The flavor was a bit on the yeasty side perhaps.)
* 2/3c warm water (110 degrees I believe is the proper temp to get the yeasties going.)
* 2c flour (2 cups of flour is a measurement I can totally handle)
* 1t salt (The first time I made it I didn’t actually own measuring spoons and so measured out what was probably 1/4t into my palm and tossed it in the bowl. It wasn’t salty enough; a teaspoon is a lot more than you would think. Second time I made it I had since purchased some cute-as-hell stainless nesting spoons from Cost Plus and so totally measured out one teaspoon and it was very salty. I’ll try it next with 1/2t salt domed; if not enough, a tad more.
* 2T yogurt (I guessed at the 2T the first time since I didn’t have the spoons; no discernable difference between this and the second time, when I carefully measured out two tablespoons of half and half, since I didn’t have any yogurt in the house.)
* 1/4c I think of ghee; 1/2 for the dough and 1/2 for the cooking (Not having ghee in the house, I used butter. Melted it on the stove. Since I didn’t know how many T were in a 1/4 cup, I guessed and used 1.5T butter. Far more than 1.5T of butter was used for the stovetop cooking–Joshua is willing to relinquish exact measurements where butter is concerned and was in charge of “charging” the pan with butter for each side.)

The Method:
Make the water warm but not too hot (I stick my finger in it and arbitrarily declare it 110 degrees); carefully add the yeast and whisk to dissolve and keep from clumping together, which is icky. Cover (why? who the hell knows–the directions said to do this and I had a cover handy so I covered it and probably will cover fizzing yeast until the day I die). Mix the flour and salt in a bowl. The yeast is supposed to sit for 10 minutes before being added; the first time I made this I probably waited 12 minutes and the second time, 8 minutes. Add the yeast/water mix and the butter/ghee/olive oil/whatever and ‘nice and mix, nice and mix.’ Turn out onto lightly floured board and knead for two songs (if you are listening to punk, make that three songs and if classical, make that 5 minutes). Put dough in greased bowl and let sit for a couple of hours (or until dough doubles in size) in a nice warm place. Ahhhh.

When ready to go, knead for another two songs and separate into 6 cute little doughballs. Pull/smack/roll/squish these into naan shapes and you are ready to grill. Now the recipe says “grill” or broil or something. We have no oven onboard so this is a stovetop recipe for me. Heat CAST IRON pan to hot but not smoking hot (med or so); grease liberally with butter and toss on the naan. Sizzle/steam/yammy smells.. (black burny dots are okay–a little char taste is a good thing I think, just not too much). Flip when it seems right (you have to use your sensory perception here). Take off when done. Experiment with dough thickness and doneness the first time you make it since you have six tries. Remember which is the best for next time.

Here’s the official stovetop bread pan: a cast iron “fajita” pan I got from goodwill that had never been used. I spent a shocking amount of time sanding down all the bumpiness because I wanted a smooth surface and then seasoned it with bacon grease. It’s just the right size and doesn’t weigh a freakinjillionbillion pounds like the larger skillet cousin.

Well, after agonizing over no less than four different reasons why we may need a more typical hard dinghy, we nearly leapt out of our skins when we saw a USED (Never. Happens.) Porta-bote up in Santa Rosa, which is maybe 6000 miles away as the 900-dollar Volvo flies. But dedicated we were and we got up at the crack of dawn (like, 9:30) to get an early start, coffee in our porta-mugs.

To make a winded explanation short, the used Porta-bote was “Eh” to “Hrmmm.” It was maybe 15 years old and weathered to the point that the polypropylene was breaking down where it had been stored in the sun for the past decade and the “safety” flotation foam was an icky UV-trashed mess. We left somewhat dejected and drove to Napa where we planned on getting drunker’n Cootie Brown at my friend’s birthday party.

Miraculously, we still remembered the incident of the used Porta-bote after the debauchery of Michelle’s 32nd and the next day, I called the actual Porta-bote office (which, um, is just down the street, Bay Area speaking) in order to inquire about the oxidation of polypropylene and the specs and oh, just stuff. Her response was somewhere in the league of, “everything breaks down in the sun if you leave it sitting for a decade.” That’s science for you. I had a brochure in hand and the prices were listed at $1700ish for the 10 footer (way way too much, I mean come ON! My Volvo cost $900); however, she said that the factory prices they could quote (since I’m in the area and special) were $1200 or something like that. I was taking careful notes. Or, she said casually, we do have this one boat – you wouldn’t probably be interested or anything – that we could sell for $850 because it was the demo and so has a few scratches, and I don’t even know why I’m mentioning it haha…

Again, to cut down on the windage, a mere 23 hours later, I was driving home with the Bote tied to the top of my car. They threw in a lot of extra rivets, like 2 extra sets of cotter pins and bolts/wingnuts, some oars, oarlocks, some rope, etc. Plus the hull still has the 10-year warranty. Score!

V E R D I C T
Good. I like it. In fact, I think it’s great. It actually is easy to put together (not just a marketer’s prank). Assembling the bote on the deck of “the big boat” was also no big whoop. It fits nicely on the trampoline under the catwalk and isn’t that heavy. In the water it is very stable – due to the semi-rigid quality (it wobbles with the water rather than bouncing atop it). It rows easily (especially when Joshua rows) and, although we haven’t gone through the hassle of taking our 6hp off Time Machine, it should take our motor with no problem.

Minor design flaws: The seats are not as ingeniously designed as they could be and, although they look great on the boat, they are somewhat awkward to stow (they should fold too, I think). They are black and I imagine a damp towel will be in order in the hotter climes. And, I guess my only other complaint is that the drink holder was clearly designed by the marketing department and not an engineer.

“I’m thinking of implementing a drink holder; have Randy work up a spec on that.”

So unfortunately, it is too big for a beer can/bottle and too small for a beer can/bottle wrapped in a canwrap. Drat.