Of Pandemics and Pancake Balls [#25]

A brief foreword, if I may…

I realize this virus has affected and will continue to affect individuals, families, businesses, communities, and both local and global economies in devastating ways. Lives, jobs, and finances have been and will continue to be lost. The luckiest among us will know no more pain than the rationing of 1-ply, while others will literally lose people they love, retirement accounts they've spent decades investing in, businesses they've built from the ground up. 

This post is in no way an attempt to make light of those losses -- or to glaze over any of the tragic realities COVID-19 has inflicted or will inflict on anyone. 

This little blog began as a way for our family (but mostly me) to document -- with at least a smidge of accountability (my laziness aside) -- our experiences, observations, hopes, and fears through stories and photos as we attempt to fulfill a lifelong goal of sailing around the world. We openly share all this with our friends and family and, quite frankly, anyone else who wants to follow along.

If you've read even one of my previous posts, it's probably painfully obvious that I write only from my own voice, my own perspective, my own feelings and opinions. I don't do research. I don't use facts I have to check for accuracy -- I don't actually recall ever using facts at all. I pontificate. Sometimes I wax poetic. I knowingly lollygag through most posts with the literary prowess of a distracted five-year-old.

So it should come as no surprise that my aim here -- as in the 24 posts that have come before, and likely in all that will follow -- is simply to share a little snippet of what this world looks like to us (but mostly me) right now, how we feel about it, and what we might do because or in spite of it. 

Also, if ever there was a time for me to step up as your Cabbage Ambassador (aptly ranked as such by my sister), surely it's now -- as you've likely long since run out of micro and baby greens.

Thanks for being here. Hugs and health and patience and luck and bits of humor to you all amidst the chaos of this blaze.

That's all. On to the post, for those of you still with me... 

I imagine the stress of this global pandemic is laden with an extra layer of anxiety for many of those currently traveling or living abroad — far from home, away from loved ones, uncertain — in light of ever-changing border closures and quarantine measures — about when they’ll be able to return (or via what sort of complicated path).

But for us, being far from “home” has had (so far) largely the opposite effect.

We’ve been carefully watching this mayhem unfold, but entirely from afar. Online and on shore, of course, it’s all anyone talks about — even here in Jamaica — but we’re not on shore very often these days as we try to do our part to self-quarantine and maintain adequate social distancing.

We’re usually pretty self-sufficient aboard the Ruby Vi — as we obviously have to be — so we haven’t experienced the shock or frustration of store-hopping in search of a roll of Charmin or a gallon of milk or a damn egg.

No one in Jamaica is hoarding dairy products or canned goods or toilet paper (or, blessedly, rum).

The shelves of the smallish grocery story we visited recently were stocked with as decent a selection of necessities as we’ve come to hope for since leaving the States five months ago.

I suppose that’s a notable difference from our land-days — we don’t really shop anymore; we provision — we rarely search for more than necessities.

In doing so, our list of what actually qualifies as necessity has morphed from extravagant-wedding-dress-train long to inappropriate-mini-skirt-length short.

By the end of last November, we were already tenured professors at the University of Rationing and well on our way to a doctorate in Canned Food Fare.

Every provisioning run we make is built off the same skeleton:

1. Fruit/Vegetables (Cabbage!)
2. Cheese/Eggs
3. Breads
4. Canned/Dry Goods
5. (Extra: Meats/Snacks?)

So far, we still mostly have half and half for coffee, but we traded out “regular” milk for powdered and shelf-stable boxed milk months ago — a sacrifice at the time but now a relief to have already adapted to something so consistently easy to find (and store).

We haven’t given up meat per say, but it definitely isn’t a staple in our diet anymore and, when we do have it on hand, it’s rationed with comical commitment.

Snacks? There aren’t many. Just ask our past guests.

Typical items we were used to buying in the States (protein/granola bars, tortilla chips, trail mix, etc.) are wildly expensive in the Caribbean and most don’t have a locally produced, cheaper “off-brand” alternative. We buy cocktail peanuts at a premium (Planters stock has likely skyrocketed since we landed in the Caribbean), and we usually splurge on a bag each of pretzels and chips once a month. (I’m guessing you can imagine the caution with which those are doled out one by one.)

Vegetables are hit and miss. There’s almost always something to work with, but we can’t ever count on exactly what — save (so far) cabbage and carrots.

Praise be.

In Jamaica’s less populated towns, like where we are currently, roadside stands and vendors carry the bulk of the “earthy” options. Whether or not we can make it to that area from the boat determines the success of our haul.

This week’s from-the-earth portion of our provisioning run yielded apples, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, celery, cucumber, tomatoes, onions, and zucchini — we considered it a raging success. We’ll stretch this a month if necessary.

Then there’s the social distancing piece.

In many ways, we’ve been practicing our own form of social distancing since moving aboard Ruby Vi 10 months ago.

We’ve already worked through the (sometimes agonizing) growing pains of living in a shrinking space. We’re already halfway a little ways up the homeschool learning curve mountain. We can work remotely. We’ve already accepted (albeit begrudgingly) that virtual connections with our friends and family are better than no connections at all.

Is the world’s steady shutdown affecting us? In short, yes — our route, our timing, our immediate plans are all changing by the day. But the longer answer is — yes, but not as much as it is affecting most others.

The reality of this is mind boggling to me.

On Tuesday, I FaceTimed with my mom and sister (both living in Southern California). I happily joked about our boat-dinner of curried potatoes, peas, rice, and cabbage, confused by their lack of shared enthusiasm for our obvious feast.

I flipped my phone screen around so they could watch the sunset with me, sharing a little virtual tour of my-life-in-this-moment, but it was obvious that the mood on their end was considerably less happy-go-lucky.

Even with access to services like InstaCart, whose shoppers will search high and low for items on her list and deliver them right to her door, my sister’s shopping bags are still arriving with only a fraction of the goods she’s requested, and almost none of the staples. Shelves are empty. Even Amazon is out.

In all likelihood, this is a reality most of you are already all too personally familiar with. And that’s just grocery store stress. There’s also health stress and work stress and money stress and, for those with kids — homeschool stress.

It’s ubiquitously hideous.

We — my little family of four plus a furry — are visitors in a foreign land whose invitation will expire in mid-May. We have no friends or family nearby. And yet — at least thus far — we are far less personally affected by this global pandemic that is furiously shuttering the world than are our land-based friends and family.

We live on a well-built-but-not-fancy sailing catamaran. In a conservative estimate, we own less than half a percent of the possessions we did a year ago. For better or worse, nearly everything we have left is here with us on (and in) Ruby Vi.

We’re limited in how we cook and what we cook; restricted by what we can store and where we can store it.

We barely remember what the convenience of a Costco run feels like.

(Actually that’s a lie. I remember every detail of my Costco glory days, but saying I don’t helps me cope with the immeasurable loss.)

We don’t usually have easy access to services and goods, and sometimes we don’t have access at all — easy or otherwise. We’ve arrived into port, desperate (or so we thought) for provisions, only to walk away with two heads of cabbage, a $12 can of peanuts, and a bag of disappointment.

But we chose this.

We picked relative-poverty and eggs-in-one basket and too-bad-so-sad-there’s-only-cabbage-and-rice-for-dinner-tonight. We opted in to the realities of rationing.

We signed up for every detail of the reality we’re living.

What’s more, we’ve had time to adjust — time we mostly-fondly chalk up to Part of the Adventure. (Perhaps save fixing the heads — I’m not sure John feels he willingly signed up for that particular area of #boatlife. But, into every life, a little rain must fall…)

However, unless you happen to also be Boat Folks (or otherwise consciously Off the Grid Folks), you didn’t sign up for the reality you’re facing right now. You didn’t decide it’d be awesome to try to feed your family without access to the groceries you’re accustomed to.

You didn’t sign up for canned pea curry.

Until this week, I’ve assumed you weren’t ready for me to go full Commissioner of Cabbage on you.

But, in light of your vacant store shelves — and the sad reality that you’re probably a bit of a captive audience, perhaps wooed by the thought of stalling a smidge longer before jumping back into to the now-shared tragedy that is homeschooling our own children — I offer you what few lame tips and tricks I’ve developed of late to master survive the art struggle of a sometimes-horrifyingly-scant galley.

If Boat Cooking has taught me anything, it’s to Lower the Bar

— just go ahead and drop your old standards right down to the ground. As such, anything presented as relatively edible during or near a time of day when food should typically be consumed is already a screaming victory.

Some of what’s below you probably still have on hand, buried in the depths of your fridges or cupboards and pantries; other items are hopefully uninteresting enough to most during “normal” life that maybe there’s still hope you can find them on a store shelf somewhere.

CABBAGE (you knew it was gonna start with cabbage, right?) 

We buy heads of cabbage 3-5 at a time. They don't have to be refrigerated (even if you get them out of the cold section). They'll easily keep for over a month. Just peel off any "soft" outer layers right before you use it. 

Use instead of lettuce as salad (toss with your favorite dressings). Unlike regular lettuce-based salads, leftovers will keep in the fridge for days. One of my favorites is just salt (lots), pepper, a drizzle of olive oil, and a splash of whatever interesting vinegar we have on-hand. 

Sauté it on high heat in your favorite oil (or butter) with salt and pepper. Don't quit early, it's best caramelized (like sweet onions, which you can also add in if you want). 

Serve it as a warm side dish, mixed in with something else, shoved inside a baked potato... Use leftovers as a base to bulk up soup. 

Add taco seasoning and you have an easy way to bulk up meatless tacos (we do black beans, cabbage, and rice -- in a tortilla if we have/make them, or in a bowl if we don't). 

Marinate thick cabbage "steaks" (slices) in your favorite grill marinade and toss on a hot barbecue (they are amazing slightly blackened -- even Wyatt likes them this way). They're best barbecued on a mat or even tinfoil as the rings have a tendency to separate and fall through the grates as they cook.

CURRY -- Almost everything is delicious if you turn it into a curry. It is my absolute go-to when the pickin's are slim. 

Take whatever veggies (fresh/frozen/canned) you have on hand and heat on the stove with curry powder (red or yellow or whatever you have) and coconut milk. I invariably also add ground ginger, onion powder, garlic powder, and a pinch of salt. Sometimes, also a little Chinese 5 spice or an itty bitty dash of allspice just to keep things interesting. 
You can add spicy "heat" to your heart's desire or keep it mellow. 

Add a starch to the pot if you have it (potatoes, rice, noodles, even tofu adds nice bulk); if not, you can pan fry bread and ladle your veggie curry right over the buttery toast.

TACO SEASONING -- like curry, this is a save-all. When you're tired of curry, make whatever you have on hand taste like it belongs in a taco. #winning

Use pre-made taco seasoning or easily make your own: chili powder, garlic powder, onion powder, cumin, salt (paprika and cayenne are solid additions as well). Want a sweeter take? Add a little brown sugar to the mix.

RICE/NOODLES -- perhaps painfully obvious, but you can bulk absolutely any meal or soup with rice or noodles.  And, they can take on virtually any flavor (we've even made meatless "bolognese" sauce to have over leftover rice when we didn't want to go through the effort of boiling noodles).

*Teriyaki/stir fry sauce: soy sauce, olive oil, sesame oil, ground (or fresh) ginger, sugar or honey, ground (or fresh) garlic. 

*Marinara sauce (in it's most ridiculously simple form): can of tomato sauce, can of tomato paste, garlic, little sugar, pinch of salt, olive oil or butter; (if you have it, add: dried Italian herbs, dried fennel, onion powder, oregano, basil...) 

*Curry: duh 

*Cheesy: obviously 

*Garlicky: boil noodles or rice like usual but then pan fry/sauté the otherwise finished product in olive oil with garlic and salt and any dried (or fresh) green herbs you can find. Don't quit until they're golden brown and slightly crispy in places. If you make a bunch, you can reheat them over and over again on the stove. They almost get better every time -- which is bizarre, given the extra layers of oil or butter they're accumulating each time... 

*Bonus -- have Ramen noodles collecting dust in the back of your pantry? (Yes, like the ones you bought in college for 49 cents.) They don't have to be consumed as that gross "soup." They can be boiled, drained, and then -- you guess it -- sautéed. Save the "flavoring" packet for another desperate time -- they do actually work wonders when you need a salty boost somewhere. If you leave the ramen in its patty form to boil, you can then sauté it as-is. This kids, in particular, are fans of this form of "presentation." Top your fried ramen patty any way you like.

TORTILLAS -- No explanation needed. They're amazing. Assuming your stores haven't seen stacks of tortilla options in over a week, you can easily make them yourself if you can find masa mix (usually cheap and easy to get). Add a little water and a pinch of salt, form into your desired shape/flatness, and cook on a hot dry pan. 

It's a pretty tedious process to make a stack one by one, but it couldn't be simpler. They're rustically bland (not a huge selling point, I realize) but as my dear friend, Lauren, noted: "There's something pretty special about being able to taste every ingredient in your food." 

If you're not tough enough to drink your coffee black (as I am not) EVAPORATED or condensed (sweet) milk works just reasonably well as a substitute for milk/cream should the refrigerated dairy aisle remain a vacant wasteland. 

DEEP FRIED PANCAKE BALLS -- the bastard child of Laziness and Rationing. 

If you happen to be fortunate enough to still have pancake mix on hand and that mix happens to be of the "just add water" variety, for the love of all that is holy, make these.

If your days of still having pancake mix are but a distant memory: first, -- I'm so sorry -- no one should have to live without pancake mix, even during a pandemic; second, file this gem away as a post-COVID celebration meal. It will be worth the wait. I promise.

1) Heat 3ish inches of oil in a pot (I use canola or vegetable oil but only because my options are slim)

2) Take whatever pre-made dry pancake mix you have on-hand (I'm quite certain waffle mix would do just fine, or maybe even be better) or make your own, if you're fancy. Add just enough water to turn it to a cookie dough consistency.

3) Once the oil is super hot (clearly, a very technical measurement), drop fat teaspoon-sized pancake dough balls into the hot oil. 

4) Let the balls bob around a little bit; roll them over as needed.

5) The temperature of your oil and the size of your balls (*I just can't bring myself to re-write that in a less obscene way. Apologies*) will determine the length of time needed in the fry-bath. Usually, just a minute or two is more than enough if the oil's hot enough and your balls are smallish (*again, apologies*)...

6) The second you pull those bad boys out of the oil and they're not so hot they'll blister your tongue, they're ready to eat. Dredge in powdered sugar, drench in maple syrup, smother with jam, top with whipped cream, or go pure Elf and rock all of the above. The sugary sky's the limit.

So that’s it, I think. It’s not much, of course. But that’s the point, right?

Wouldn’t you know, Not Much is a pretty delicious alternative to Not At All, especially if it tastes like curry. Or a taco.

Our hearts are with all of you whose lives are being thrown drastically into such turmoil. We know curry and cabbage won’t lessen a single one of your real-world worries and, despite the hero it longs to be, a taco still can’t solve (most of) your problems. But mark my words, Elf-style fried pancake balls, just might come close.

Be well, friends.