That’s not my boat pictured. Pretty though!

There are two questions I’m often asked in reference to living aboard that are closely related. 1) How do you cook onboard? 2) What does living onboard cause you to miss the most?

Cooking on my current boat is a pain. Thus, cooking is one of the things I miss the most. In fact, it rarely happens onboard anymore. When I bought my 25′ boat, I had all sorts of overly romanticized ideas about what life would be like and the adventures I’d undertake. It was obvious that the preparation of food was going to be one of the biggest challenges. However, I was determined to make it work. I took meticulous measurements of spaces. I planned modifications. I carefully selected compact and multi-purpose items to fit in their allocated spaces. I thought I had it down.

It should be noted that the only pre-existing galley “equipment” was a 9″ x 12″ sink molded into the fiberglass countertop with a single, hand-pumped spout, and a 2-burner alcohol burning stove that fit perfectly into one of the drawers. In fact, the stove was standard equipment from the factory and the drawer was built to fit that particular model. It was upon this foundation I would be tasked with building my culinary arsenal.

The arsenal eventually included a teeny-tiny mini-fridge. I believe it is approximately a 24″ cube. The freezer section is so tiny that a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream won’t even fit if wedged on its side. This has the unfortunate results of forcing the avoidance of ice cream, or eating an entire pint in one session. Mmm… Love handles. The thing to do is partially melt the contents and transfer it into a resealable, Ziploc® style bag. That’s something I would have never considered prior to living aboard. The other unfortunate feature of these mini fridges is the freezer compartment is really nothing but a shelf that’s frozen. This results in the surface of the item inside to freeze on the bottom, but often remain smushy on the top and/or sides. To combat this, you can enter into a futile dance with the automatic temperature adjustment. This will inevitably fail. You see, there is no thermal insulation of any kind on the frozen shelf. It’s just as cold on the outside surface as the inside. If you turn the temperature down far enough to freeze the contents of the freezer, you will return to exploding cans of soda, lumpy juice, and an assortment of fluids with a thin coat of ice perfectly formed across the top so you are merely taunted by the liquid visible through the crystallized window of water.

Because of the space limitations, the business end of cooking included only a toaster oven and a hot plate. These were flanked by a single non-stick omelet style pan, and a pressure cooker that doubles as a saucepan without the lid.

I read up on tips for living aboard for at least a month before actually spending my first night on the boat. One thing that seemed near universal was the absolute requirement and absolute genius of pressure cookers. They’re faster because they generate a higher internal temperature due to pressure. They’re more efficient with fuel because much less heat escapes during cooking. They’re more efficient with water because less of that escapes during cooking as well. I used my shiny new, supposed cure-all pressure cooker exactly once. Exactly one time was exactly how long it took to learn that the pressure cooker pan did not fit in the sink. It wasn’t even close. It doesn’t go more than a third of the way in the sink if it’s sideways. At one third insertion, it nearly fills the sink from side to side anyway, effectively preventing a hand from getting in there to wash anything. Pressure cooker = portable storage compartment with an unfortunate handle. Oh, it also spends quite a bit of time as a base to elevate an electric space heater.

The toaster oven and hot plate saw a lot of use. The toaster oven outpaced the hot plate by large margins. The first thing I discovered that increased its use was that Pyrex makes a few sizes of glass casserole dishes. They’re made of some sort of super-glass that doesn’t seem to mind being dropped as much as regular glass. It helps that most landings surfaces are fiberglass rather than more unforgiving surfaces found in kitchens. The beauty of these dishes is really their triple use. They work great for cooking, serving, and storing. Since I don’t have to worry about anyone raiding my refrigerator, i don’t feel at all bad about baking enchiladas in the dish, eating two, slapping the lid on it, putting it in the fridge, grabbing it later, putting it back in the oven, and eating the other two enchiladas. In my days in the luxury of well equipped kitchens, that full trip would have resulted in probably 10 separate dishes that would eventually end up in the dishwasher. Not on the boat! Washing dishes is HELL! Did I mention the headroom over the sink is about 8″ shorter than me? There’s no way to spin back pain caused by washing dishes into something interesting.

My loathing of washing dishes by hand in height appropriates spaces is severe. The tight space concentrated my disgust until I came up with another breakthrough. I’ll warn you, it will grate against the nerves of anyone with any passion for conservation. It certainly did a number on mine… for a while. I gave in and eventually embraced my new favorite thing: foil. I had only previously used foil as a mechanism for covering food for storage. Foil is so much more! Foil can be shaped in amazing ways. One of the miracles of science that intrigued me most as a kid was the perfectly round, and precisely sized egg on a McDonald’s egg McMuffin. I was gifted a set of egg rings for a previous kitchen and they were my favorite single-use kitchen gear of all time. On a boat, those are luxuries requiring both space and washing.

Not in my galley! Foil is all things to all tasks. Picture this, you have a bagel, or an irregularly shaped loaf of bread upon which an egg would be perfect. Sure, you can cook ‘em up separately. Scramble them and a few will flop out. Fry them and you’ll have points of varying egg thickness. To that I say bah! Think inside-out. Lay a piece of foil on the counter. Place the hunk of bread goodness in the center, and mold the foil around it. Leave about half an inch vertically up the side of the bread, then fold the rest down and scrunch it all up. Remove the bread and voila! Perfect egg mold for a perfect egg sandwich thingy. Slap some butter or cooking spray or oil in there, drop an egg or two in and toss that baby in the toaster oven. Minutes later you’ll have a perfectly cooked layer of egg. Once you get to an advanced level of multi-purpose awareness, you’ll realize that your bagel will fit in the toaster oven at the same time for dual cooking action. When you pop both of them both out, turn the egg over and watch it flop out and align with every edge of your bread. Add some cheese and maybe a meat of some sort. At this point you may be tempted to wad up the foil and throw it away. This instinct must be resisted. What you would be doing is throwing away your egg sandwich holding device. So, put your sandwich thingy back in the foil, and wrap the edges up around your sandwich. Once you’ve eaten it and marveled at the lack of floppy scrambled eggs and dripping cheese, THEN you may wad up the foil, throw it away, and walk away without washing a single dish… all the while knowing that you’re only destroying the planet to do it.

At some point you may find that you’ve crushed your love for the environment. This streak of destruction may be limited to the confines of your boat’s galley, but I suggest embracing it within these confines. What you’ll want to do next is visit a grocery store and trade about $5 for about a month’s worth of “disposable” plastic knives, forks, and spoons. Sure, in time you will discover that even in your new-found cocoon of wastefulness, a small degree of conservation will creep back in. This is only because it seems that you can only by plastic knives in the triple combo packs. Forks and spoons can often be purchased separately. Word of the wise… watch your knife consumption.

Another curiosity that can be turned into a tip is what I call the “cups are also bowls, but bowls are not also cups” paradigm. Yes, once you’ve expanded your disposable selection beyond merely utensils, you’ll want to stock up on plastic cups. If you’re lucky enough to have a microwave on board, you’ll apply the “cups are bowls” principle by emptying cans of soup or baked beans into plastic cups and popping them into the microwave. Always apply the cooking dish + serving dish combination principle. Pans and separate bowls are a recipe for spending your life with a tweaked neck and dislodged vertebrae.

If your earth-loving conscience rears its ugly head, try this. Rather than disposing of plastic forks, slip them in the fridge packed right in with whatever leftovers you may have. Just remember one thing. Upon reheating, the microwave is your friend and the toaster oven is not where stashed plastic utensils are concerned. Then again, if you’re microwaving foil to avoid putting a plastic spoon in the oven, you have problems beyond my assistance.

I’m half-serious and half-joking about the disposable items mentioned above. If I catch you throwing those things overboard, I’ll slap you. Also, my cooking situation is severely limited on the current boat. When in port, I avoid cooking onboard as much as possible. There are plenty of boats out there that have galleys more well equipped than any of my kitchens ever were. Then again, Adding the 20′ of boat required to get the space for such things uses an amount of fiberglass equivalent to an awful lot of plastic spoons.

The food preparation issue is one huge reason I’m forcing myself to get a bigger (more well equipped) boat before shoving off for good. I completely glossed over the difficulty of securing toaster ovens and hot plates for sailing. It’s a major chore to prevent things from becoming airborne under sail. The frustration of having to move a hundred things to get to one thing drives me batty. While this is a problem in many boats, it is certainly relative to storage and design.

Most of the above isn’t possible while cruising. A big fat yellow power cord at the dock makes things easy. Without that, power demands are much more serious. I have posts more applicable to cruising in the pipeline… life without refrigeration and the ins and outs of propane immediately jump to mind.

I <3 foil.