Every transit seems to have that day – that one day when everyone wishes they’d taken a dramamine when they woke up. Today was that day. The Nomad told me he had experienced my hamburger three times, and that it was good the first time, tolerable the second time, and … I can’t remember what he said about the third time, but you can use your imagination. At least I hadn’t fed them spaghetti for dinner.
Because Lake Eerie is so shallow, the waves are known for being rough – and for picking up quickly. When we were on the hook it seemed like the most lovely of nights, but on the water, sailing, close to the wind, it was another story altogether. Almost everyone got sick that night or the next day, except Smith, Neb and me. But I certainly was on the verge. My savior is always the ability to lay down between meals. Somehow, I always manage to sleep it off. I still have never barfed at sea (knock on wood).
Sausage and biscuits
Indian-style brisket, though it actually tasted more Indonesian than Indian
Cauliflower and peas in turmeric and garam masala and other spices. Unfortunately, the crew was so seaseak still, that hardly any of them touched it. Which was probably a good thing. Indian food coming up might not have been as enjoyable as Indian food going down.
I also cooked another brisket off, Texas style, because the meat was starting to go. “It smells like death in here,” Smith remarked while standing in the passageway where the freezer is.
Pizzas – by dinner everyone was feeling a little better. I made various pizzas – one with a red sauce and three kinds of meat; two with artichokes and mozerella; one BBQ pizza with pork; and two with lots of veggies – mushrooms, sliced onion and green pepper.