Whenever I present a double-layer homemade carrot cake like this one I’m sure to be met with incredulous guests. Most cruisers do little baking anyway, so I had them on “from scratch”. Trusting their culinary fortunes to the sun is a real stretch – no way was this delectable dessert baked on the foredeck!

Truth is, the Sea Lady’s galley oven serves mostly as storage for pots & pans. Baking happens on deck, fueled by the toasty Caribbean sun.

This is not a birthday-cake-special-occasion piece of equipment. Propane fuels the morning coffee and little else, save for the rare drizzly day (or for when the cook procrastinates the daylight away). Arroz y habichuelas (Puerto Rican rice & beans) is a staple. Savory sopa de calabaza (pumpkin soup) and spicy jerk chicken show up regularly. Propane-intensive organic brown rice? Savory and fluffy every time after a day in the sun. And there’s seldom a boat in the anchorage that hasn’t sampled fresh-from-the-oven Sea Lady banana bread.

My culinary workhorse is the SOS Sport oven from SolarOvens.org.

It’s lightweight (10lb), and at 12 ¼” high by 27 ¼” long by 17″ deep stows handily under the salon table for passage-making.

Oven temps are typically in the 210º – 260º F. range, maxing out at 300º F. in equatorial zones – hot enough to cook, not hot enough to burn. These temps may seem low, but keep in mind that food begins to cook at 180º F.

Optional reflectors are available to increase the amount of sunshine for the solar oven in less ideal solar conditions. Cooking is done in 9” covered black graniteware pots (two are included with the oven), which serve to increase the cooking temperature of the food inside. With the sun high overhead, banana bread bakes in about 90 minutes, or roughly one-third longer than in a conventional oven.

The included recipe book ranges from starters to soups to mains to desserts, and there are additional solar oven recipes available online. Ratatouille, Tuna Filets with Tomatoes, Olives & Capers, and even the praise-worthy Carrot Cake pictured above – are all in the included recipe book. And I’m happy to report that I’ve found no need to restrict to solar oven recipes – half the fun is trying new dishes and old family favorites.

Let me tell you more about why I love my solar oven:

• Nothing burns. You can put dinner on and leave for a day ashore with nary a second thought.
• Clean-up is a swish (did I mention nothing burns?)
• The galley stays cool
• … and our already-modest carbon footprint – being sailors, afterall -  is just that much smaller.  How great is that?

If you are really thankful, what do you do? You share.
W. Clement Stone

But here’s what I really love about my solar oven.

Every dollar spent on an SOS Sport solar oven goes to a US 501(c)(3) non-profit organization called Persons Helping People (the sponsor of the Solar Oven Society), dedicated to helping alleviate hunger in developing countries by helping people help themselves.

Firewood Collecting in Burkina Faso – Photo SolarOvens.org

More than 50% of trees cut globally are used for cooking fires. One family cooking with wood produces approximately 7.6 tons per year of CO2 and damaging smoke particulates.

Kabul, Afghanistan – Photo SolarOvens.org

Ovens just like mine show up in Haiti, Cambodia, Afghanistan, the Congo and elsewhere in the world where conventional firewood cooking strips the land bare and ensures that women and children have little chance of breaking out of the daily grind – not if the family is to eat that night.

All in all, solar cooking is good cooking: sumptuous meals, a cool galley, extra propane, and a small contribution to the family cooks around the world that are not as fortunate as this one, swaying at anchor in the sunny Caribbean.

If you’d like to learn more, see www.solarovens.org.

Anne Patterson
SV Sea Lady
Culebra, Puerto Rico
January 2013

Update (Sep 2015)

Anne loved her solar oven so much she recommended it to her sailing friends. But in 2013, the Solar Oven Society funding dwindled. After supplying more than 20,000 solar ovens to people around the world over 15 years, the organization stopped production.

Anne Patterson launched Solavore™ in 2015, resuming production of SOS’s flagship oven, the Sport.

With guidance from SOS’s founders and the Sport’s designers, Anne is applying a career’s-worth of business savvy to build a robust, sustainable company that generates not only profits but also social and environmental dividends.

www.solavore.com

About Anne Patterson

Anne strolling Zoni Beach on Culebra, Puerto Rico, while dinner cooks aboard the SEA LADY.

Anne and her husband Ray Seiffert spend their winters in the Caribbean aboard their Peterson 44 and spend their summers in their cottage on Griswold Island, Connecticut – where they also have a solar oven.

More from this website

• Slow Cooking (with a Solar Oven) on a Slow Boat:
  Cruiser Heather McCarthy answers a few questions about how solar cooking has opened up a whole new suite of cruising food options for her family.  
• Cruiser Anne Patterson makes solar ovens … And shares a recipe
• Galley Advice from 18 Cruising Women: 18 cruising women offer tips and advice for setting up your galley and cooking aboard, discuss the gear that they couldn’t live without, and invite you into their galleys.
• Is it worth it to get a pressure cooker?

From watching dolphins leaping at the bow, seeking companionship from a banking shearwater during lonely ocean watchers or flushing hundreds of tiny sparkling plankton down the loo(!), sailors are overwhelmingly in tune with the natural world.

Like our fellow amphibians, we have adapted to life on land and in the water, just with a few more contraptions to keep us afloat! Sails power us, wind turbines swish, solar panels bristle and wake turbines spin, providing green energy for our lights, laptops, fridges or if you’ve a wooden boat like us, bilge pumps!

It is this usage of alternative energy and awareness of its consumption, down to the last amp, that holds us apart from many of our land-dwelling counterparts. Just as a gecko effortlessly merges with its surrounding, so the sailor can be seen collecting rain water, conserving water, sourcing locally and eating seasonally; it is as natural to her as living in a box the size of most people’s garden shed.

Red-footed booby on the bowsprit, Pacific

Blue Whale, Pacific Ocean

We live a privileged life in some of the most remote and wild places on earth. Tiny, shaken feather-balls seek shelter with us on their incredible migrations; flying fish screech onto our decks; a blue whale, one of the least known and largest animals ever to grace our planet, surfaces at our ‘front door’.

We are immersed in the lives of animals that others can only dream of.

But we mustn’t get complacent.

It’s easy to underestimate the impact of jettisoning a piece of rope, of the gurgle of the ‘iron top sail’ or that of anti-foul paint. The natural world, especially the vast ocean, can appear so limitless, bountiful and forgiving. It can be, but at the moment humanity is pushing Lovelock’s Gaia Theory to the limit. The repetitive death knells of: overfishing, pollution, over-population, coral bleaching and climate change hammer remorselessly at our planet, our life support system.

South American sealions

In our unique positions sleeping within a few centimetres of a passing hammer-head shark or giant squid, we can lead the way. We are the Queens of our mini floating worlds, regulating inputs and outputs, far and above that which a land-lover could dream to achieve.

Together we can reconnect our blue-green umbilical cord and ensure that the passion and inspiration ignited by our magical world is shared with others and serves to conserve our wild home forever.

I have always been transfixed by the natural world. Whether perched on a branch watching the canopy commotion as a bird of prey soars through or waiting under the roof of a million stars for whiskered bats to emerge from their roost. But it was not until nearly four years ago when we set sail that I started to meet and understand the other 70% of our planet.

Since then we have been trying to work out how to leave as tiny a blue print as possible. I find it challenging and extremely satisfying. I’m sure many of you will be following similar principles and I would love to hear more ideas. Because I believe together we CAN make a difference, can ENJOY the ‘greening’ process and most of all the wildlife and wild places we’re supporting.

“There is no pillow so soft as a clear conscience”.
~French Proverb

Below are some of the things we do to sustain as blue-green a life as possible:

• Buy products with as little packaging as possible.
  

  Home Made Preserves, Chile

  I have an allergy to plastic bags (!) and carry rucksacks and egg boxes for provisioning. We preserve our own fruit, meat and veg to cut back on cans.

• Reuse, recycle and sort waste. I dig organic waste into a hole on land or jettison it at sea when on passage. We believe that if waste comes from the land it should go back there if at all possible.
• We conducted a rubbish experiment, hoarding all our no non-organic waste for 10 months. This included stuffing five pillows with all our old bits of old rope ends, thread and material. It’s amazing how focused one becomes on packaging, when you know you have to stare at it for another 10 months! It also becomes weirdly therapeutic…
  

  10 Month Rubbish Experiment, Chile

• We buy local and seasonal food. We consider how products are made and how they reached the shelves. This can on occasion hemorrhage decisions, but most of the time it’s liberating and suits my controlling nature!
• We don’t eat fish or seafood unless there is evidence that stocks are healthy. If you haven’t time to research the topic read, The End of the Line: How Overfishing Is Changing the World and What We Eat,by Charles Clover, it’s a fantastic piece of investigative journalism. Unfortunately, a bustling fish market is not necessary the sign of a thriving fishery. Blue-finned tuna, Atlantic cod, Atlantic salmon, shark, marlin, monk fish, shrimps, prawns, lobster and swordfish are amongst the many imperiled species.See:
  www.fishonline.org
  www.fishwatch.gov
  www.greenpeace.org.uk/oceans/what-you-can-do/better-buys-what-fish-can-I-eat

• Cleaning:
  

  Soapnuts in organic cotton bag

  I use Ecover which can be found in the UK, Canary Islands, USA etc. and Seventh Generation which I found in St. Maarten, or better still vinegar and lemon (to cut back on packaging), also organic soap and shampoo (I’ve found organic olive-based products in the French Caribbean).

  Soapnuts are little gems for laundry. They’re totally organic, not the rightest of results, but the fish are happier! Friends know to bring these beauties with them when they visit, although you need such tiny amounts, they last for ages.

• I use a ‘moon cup’ during menstruation, so nothing’s thrown in the bin and it’s very cost effective. We haven’t had children yet, but I would love to hear from parents who’ve used cloth nappies.
• We’ve tried various anti-foul alternative treatments such as chili in paint, but with the fear of ship worm ever stalking us, I’m afraid we still use hard anti-foul paint. I’m not an expert on anti-fouling and would love to hear if anyone has found ‘greener’ alternatives. This is the bane of our wooden boat life. We collect the hard paint debris as best as we can when re-painting the hull, but no doubt this highly toxic substance gets into the environment and into us.
• Fuel: we use the engine as little as possible, equating it to CO₂, stinking fumes and noise. Some of our most treasured days at sea have been sitting becalmed with our toes being pecked by seabirds!
  

  Westland Petrel, becalmed, Pacific

• We mend and re-use everything: when lowering the floor in our galley, we re-used all the wood and nails. We are very careful in selecting wood, using, for example, teak grown in agricultural plantations in Trinidad. I’d rather see a tree in a rainforest heaving with wildlife than dead on our boat.
• We avoid petroleum-based products where possible using, for example, linseed oil and Varnol (pine tree resin-based product) on the exterior wood. No product is perfect: e.g. linseed oil is often produced through intensive agriculture, so it’s often a case of choosing the best of a bad bunch.

I look forward to hearing your ideas!

The 5000 Mile Project On 27 July 2012, Katharine and her husband, David, will start running the length of South America, over 5000 miles, the equivalent of 200 marathons, unsupported, in a year. Tortel, Chile Their goals are to: Raise money to buy and conserve threatened habitats in South America. Connect people to the communities and wildlife they meet and examine how, through our actions, we are connected. Inspire environmental action; to prove that with small steps we can tackle seemingly insurmountable challenges; it’s not too late to protect the world’s remaining unspoilt ecosystems, but time is running out. If you would like to sponsor their expedition or donate to their wildlife charities, please: Contact Katharine at landy@listalight.co.uk And visit www.5000mileproject.org and www.facebook.com/5000mileproject

About Katharine Lowrie

Katharine Lowrie surveying in Reloncavi, Chile

Katharine is an ecologist and currently lives with her husband David in Uruguay on their 77-year-old wooden gaff-ketch.

They surveyed the breeding seabirds of the Eastern Caribbean between 2009 and 2010 and recently published, The Seabird Breeding Atlas of the Lesser Antilles, with Environmental Protection In the Caribbean (EPIC), available from Create Space and Amazon.com.

After leaving the Caribbean, they sailed to the Galapagos, Easter Island and Chile where they lived for nearly a year, including sailing south through the Patagonian canals and the Beagle Channel. They then sailed to the Falklands and Uruguay — experiencing some of the worst weather of their entire journey! (www.listalight.co.uk).

Read also on this website

•  Katharine Lowrie sets sail to protect wildlife, by Katharine Lowrie
• Fear and Reward, by Katharine Lowrie
• What to do with all that trash, by Devi Sharp

More information (external links)

• Lovelock’s Gaia Theory: Model and Metaphor for the 21st Century:
• The End of the Line: How Overfishing Is Changing the World and What We Eat,by Charles Clover
• The buyer’s guide to sustainable seafood (Marine Conservation Society, UK)
• Fish Watch: US Seafood Facts
• Sustainable seafood: what fish can I eat? (Greenpeace website)
• Ecover (Ecological cleaning products)
• Seventh Generation (Green cleaning products)
• 1001 Uses of White Distilled Vinegar
• Lemons, a natural household cleaner
• Using Soapnut shells for your laundry
• ‘Moon cup’ (Sanitary protection)

How do you leave a ‘small blue print’?

Let us know.

Email kathy@forcruisers.com or leave a comment below.

When my husband Steve and I first talked about going cruising, one of the strong appeals for me of traveling on a boat was that I would have my kitchen with me wherever we went.

I love to cook, to try new recipes and experiment, and Steve is a willing guinea pig. And we both love to eat. The name we chose for our sailboat is a dead giveaway: Receta is the Spanish word for recipe; we named Receta’s dinghy Snack.

Still, I didn’t realize this passion would do more than put food on our table. I soon discovered, however, that it could open up routes for us into Caribbean life.

Food launches conversations with strangers

When we moved onto the boat, I left behind not only the conveniences of my land-based kitchen, but North American convenience foods as well. In the Caribbean, fresh produce and fish markets became the new convenience.

This market woman on Dominica is rolling cinnamon bark into sticks. But you wouldn’t hear her call it “cinnamon” — on many Caribbean islands, it’s known simply as “spice. (Photo: Steve Manley)

Many of the items for sale were unfamiliar to us, but our foodie bent meant we were primed to try them.

I’d ask the vendors how they would prepare, say, the christophene (chayote) I was buying; or how I could turn the tamarind pods heaped on their tables into the refreshing tart-sweet drink we had just downed at a nearby food stall; or how I could use an unrecognizable-to-me green herb in my cooking. (One time, in the market in Castries, St. Lucia, the answer was that I should use it to make tea, to get rid of intestinal worms. I wormed out of that purchase and bought the cilantro-like herb chadon beni instead.)

On every trip to market, I make it my mission to buy something new. Tables overflowing with unusual herbs and greens make it easy in Castries, St Lucia (Photo: Steve Manley)	After taking these shots in the Castries, St. Lucia, market, Steve printed them onboard and gave copies to the women on our next trip to town. (Photo: Steve Manley)

Pleased by our interest, the vendors were eager to help. Often, other customers joined the conversation, too, offering their suggestions on how to use a fruit or vegetable. “Would you like me to come home with you and cook them?” the shopper next to me said when I fingered some flat, green, snow-pea-like pods in the market in Port of Spain, Trinidad. With the permission of the vendor, she showed me how to string the seim, as I learned the pods were called, and then mimed cutting them into diagonal strips. “These are very good in curries” she said before heading on her way.

Learning to roll coo-coo on Carriacou (with local cook Leslie Anne Calliste). (Photo: Steve Manley)

Emboldened by the positive reaction (and the information) our questions brought, we began poking our noses into kitchens, too, whenever we tasted wonderful island cooking on shore.

Invariably, we left with a recipe – albeit one of the “pinch of this, handful of that” variety – which formed the basis of my experiments in our galley afterwards.

When the results brought less than four-star reviews from Receta’s official food critic – that would be Steve – we went back to those who helped us, and asked more questions.

Even beyond markets and kitchens, we discovered food was a conversation starter, giving us a way to meet people. From taxi drivers to local boatmen, from customs officials to strangers we greet as we walk paths and roads, food is a subject that gets people talking. Not only does everyone have an opinion of what they like, but also people are proud of their country’s cuisine and pleased when visitors show an interest in it.

We win on all fronts

- Tuna seared rare with a cocoa-chili crust.
- Octopus stewed in a Creole style with fresh tomatoes, peppers, and thyme.
- Thick, creamy callaloo served as a soup or a side dish with rice.
- Provision – yams, sweet potatoes, green plantains, breadfruit – cooked in coconut milk with fresh herbs.
- Mango-pineapple gazpacho.
- Buttery avocado salad.
- Grilled mahi-mahi drizzled with a passion-fruit and ginger sauce.
- Lentils with sweet pumpkin.

By creating dishes based on fresh, local, seasonal ingredients (and adapting old favorite recipes to include them), we eat extremely well on Receta – in terms of both taste and a healthy diet. (These recipes, and many more, are included in my new book, The Spice Necklace: My Adventures in Caribbean Cooking, Eating, and Island Life; see below.)

These greens I’m buying in the Port of Spain, Trinidad, market are called spinach, but they’re from a different plant – and are more strongly flavored – than the Popeye variety we ate back home. Slightly bitter and smoky tasting, they’re wonderful sauteed with garlic and ginger. (Photo: Steve Manley)

“Cooking local” also helps the cruising kitty: Foods that don’t have to be shipped in from elsewhere and that are plentiful because they’re in season are invariably less expensive. A locavore style of eating offers a big helping of environment friendliness, too.

But beyond these benefits, my interest in learning to cook as the locals do also gets us involved in island life. It’s a starting point for adventures that inevitably lead us off the beaten tourist and cruiser path. What better excuse to get off the boat and explore an island than going in search of great food?

Our interest in food turns strangers into friends, and connects the dots between people and their history, culture, and traditions

In Trinidad, “Sweet-Hand Pat” let me look over her shoulder as she cooked in her small restaurant kitchen, and a friendship blossomed.(The crabs are destined for the popular Trinbagonian dish, curry crab and dumplins’.) (Photo: Steve Manley)

With food as our starting point, we tracked wild-oregano-eating goats into the cactus-covered hills at the northwest edge of the Dominican Republic, and tasted for ourselves that their meat comes to the kitchen preseasoned.

We joined a seamoss (seaweed) farmer in St. Lucia as she harvested her crop and turned it into potent “island Viagra.”  We made searing-hot pepper sauce in a Trinidadian kitchen – and got an impromptu dance lesson at the same time.

In the mountains of Dominica, we hunted freshwater crayfish at night (their tails rival those of small lobsters) and sipped moonshine out of hidden back-country stills. And at the University of the West Indies in Trinidad, we crammed for a chocolate-tasting test. (It was hard work. Honest.)

There’s no question that my passion for cooking has added a whole different – and unexpected – dimension to liveaboard life and broadened our cruising experience. And it was no surprise that food played a starring role when I started writing about our travels on Receta, first in An Embarrassment of Mangoes: A Caribbean Interlude.

Reciprocating helps launch a friendship

Our fisherman friends Dwight and Stevie keep RECETA well supplied with seafood when we’re anchored off Grenada’s Hog Island. In return, I try to keep them supplied with fresh baking and other goodies from my galley. (Photo: Steve Manley)

When we were first anchored in Grenada, a stranger gave us a bag of mangoes when she caught us admiring her tree. I baked her a pan of brownies to say thank you – which gave us an excuse to meet again, and started a now decade-long friendship.

If someone gives us a gift from their garden or fish from their catch, we try to say thanks with something homemade from the galley; if someone lets us peek over her shoulder while she cooks or invites us to share a meal, we try to follow-up with an invitation to Receta. Along the way, casual acquaintances turn into something more.

While I was back home in Toronto last fall, I called a friend in Trinidad to catch up – we had first met several years ago when I invaded her small restaurant kitchen to watch her cook – and told her I was preparing a couple of her recipes for a Canadian dinner party. “But, honey,” she said, “I just made two of your recipes for my husband’s birthday.” Food and friendship are a two-way street.

Ann’s 11 Tips
for Shopping in Island Markets

A mid-market refresher: coconut water straight from the shell. I also bring a leakproof bottle with me for the vendor to fill, so we can enjoy cold coconut water back on the boat, too. (Photo: Steve Manley)

1. Each time you go to market, look for at least one new-to-you item to buy.

This gives you a “market mission”, a reason to ask questions – and, of course, it expands your galley repertoire. Since buying locally grown seasonal food is cheaper than trying to replicate the meals you ate back home, it’s an inexpensive experiment if you hit the occasional dish you really don’t like.

2. Substitute island ingredients for North American ones in recipes you already know and enjoy.

Try cooking callaloo instead of spinach, bodi beans instead of string beans, pumpkin instead of squash, West Indian sweet potatoes instead of white potatoes. Make your favorite beef stew with goat, and an apple crisp with mangoes. Season with sive (West Indian chives) instead of green onions, chadon beni (culantro) instead of cilantro, and seasoning peppers instead of bell peppers.

3.  Ask the market vendors questions such as:

• “What do you call this [fruit, vegetable, fish]?” Even if you think you know the name, it’s worth asking the question: You may learn a local/regional variant.
• “How do I know when this [fruit, vegetable] is ready to use?” Asking “How do I know when it’s ripe?” can be tricky, as some produce is used in both ripe and unripe stages.
• “How do I prepare this?” Even better, ask “How do you serve it to your family?”

4. Have a pad and pen along, so you can jot down the details.

5. It’s easier to engage vendors in conversation on quieter days

Though the bustle and profusion of the week’s main market day (usually Friday or Saturday) make it fascinating and fun, it’s easier to engage vendors in conversation on quieter days, when they’re not quite so busy making sales.

6. Include the following in your going-to-market kit:

• sturdy carry bags, especially ones you can sling over your shoulder, leaving your hands free
• an insulated thermal bag (essential if you’re buying fish or other perishables, but even delicate greens and herbs profit from being kept cool)
• a plastic container with a secure locking lid and/or large zipper-type plastic bags (to decrease the odds of leakage when you’re bringing fresh fish, shrimp, or other seafood back to the boat)
• if eggs are on your shopping list, a closed plastic camping-style egg keeper. (Have you ever tried to transport eggs in a plastic bag, as they’re sometimes sold in island markets?)
• I often bring along a leakproof bottle, too, so if I come across someone selling fresh coconut water or fruit juice, I can leap on the opportunity.

7. Carry an assortment of small bills and change
to make doing business in the market easier.

8. Don’t be afraid to try hole-in-the-wall restaurants, small food stalls, and street food. (Size and sophistication are no guarantee of quality, hygiene, or food safety.) Follow your nose – if the cooking smells delicious, it probably is. A lineup of local people waiting for food is also a good sign.

9. Ask residents for recommendations.

But to avoid being sent to an establishment that a local thinks foreigners would like – usually, the typical popular tourist place – try phrasing the question this way: “Where do YOU go for breakfast/lunch/dinner?” If you’re looking for a more elaborate eating place, try asking, “Where would you take your mother for her birthday?”

10. Carry a small bottle of hand sanitizer in your backpack or bag.

You never know when you’re going to stumble on something delicious, and it’s good practice to clean your hands before you “take a taste.”

11. Ask before taking photos.

If you get permission, and if you have a printer onboard, print one or two of the good shots and give copies to your subjects. We’ve found this is a great way to break the ice.

About Ann Vanderhoof

Ann Vanderhoof is currently cruising the Eastern Caribbean with her husband Steve Manley.

Her new book, The Spice Necklace: My Adventures in Caribbean Cooking, Eating, and Island Life, was published in Canada in January and will be released in the USA on June 23, 2010. It recounts the couple’s adventures on Receta, as Ann follows her nose (and her tastebuds) from island to island, and it includes 71 recipes that grow out of the stories she tells.

Ann’s first book, An Embarrassment of Mangoes: A Caribbean Interlude, was an Amazon Top Ten Book of the Year for Travel and a national bestseller in Canada.

You can read Ann’s blog, see Steve’s photos, follow their travels, and find additional tips and recipes on her website: www.spicenecklace.com

Related articles (on this website)

• Ann Vanderhoof’s advice on setting up your galley and cooking onboard
• Taking Passions Cruising (Admiral’s Angle column #41)
• Other Take Your Passion Cruising articles (complete list)

More info (external links)

• Ann Vanderhoof’s website: www.spicenecklace.com
• “The Spice Necklace” Facebook page
• Ann Vanderhoof’s interview on CNN (June 25, 2010):
  Escaping it all to sail the Caribbean

What’s your passion? Have you taken it cruising?

Let us know. Email kathy@forcruisers.com or leave a comment below.