Subject: Re: Le cuisine chez Barbenegre

When my first boat literally disintegrated under my feet I happened to be in Kourou, French Guiana. Low tide in my wallet forced me to quickly find a job, any job.

Enter Jean-Yves, about two meters tall and almost one meter wide. Extremely short hair and looking more than a bit mean.

That at least must have been the impression of the legionnaire from the French Foreign Legion, who was about to beat me up in a cozy little bar called "Cepi Blanc". Jean-Yves tapped him on the shoulder and said something I didn't understand.

The effect was astonishing. Not only did the thug apologize profusely, but three *bottles* of "Johnnie Walker Black Label" materialized on the bar in front of us.

It turned out that Jean-Yves was the maitre d' of the best hotel and restaurant in the whole country - and he could organize a job for me. But first he invited me to sample the delights.

When I got to the place, I didn't dare to go in. Not only did I not have a tuxedo - or anything even remotely similar - but my jeans were faded and showed the unmistakable signs they always show when you happen to live on a boat, anchor in a muddy jungle river, row against a very strong current to wade the final few meters through muck, mud and dead stingrays. I was plain terrified to walk into the joint the way I looked.

Finally I managed to catch Jean-Yves' eye, but he wouldn't allow me to come back another time, more properly attired. And when I sat at a table with starched table cloth and so many different glasses, that I could hardly count them, things went from bad to worse. I didn't know a single dish - and the prices could have paid for the upkeep of a boat for months! Mortified, I tuned the pages of the menu.

Meanwhile Jean-Yves had served some chilled "Moet & Chandon" and almost got angry when I wanted to order the cheapest dish on the menu. He took it out of my hand and ordered for me, telling me that I was a guest in HIS restaurant and that I would eat and drink the best and only the best. The meal took hours and ended with a huge assortment of Cuban cigars. Truly a memorable evening.

I got the job and with the job came all kinds of perks, like free food and free wine. Needless to say that the staff ate and drank just as well as the guests. Every day, for breakfast, lunch and coffee-time. The job (l'entretien) wasn't hard, the money wasn't bad, I got residence and a work permit. When I arrived my French was pretty much non-existent, but now I picked up enough Street-French, heavily interspersed with their version of French Creole (Nuka chape!) and life was altogether pleasant.

Especially when Jean-Yves came up with another great idea. I had a boat, he had all these friends who were chefs or maitre d's. And there were the islands of "Papillon" fame out there, the Isles du Salut.

I would take the whole gang out there for the weekend, and they would be in charge of food and drinks. They did not worry about excess fat or excess anything for that matter. They were of the "rare or ruined" school as far as meat was concerned and every meal was perfect. There was only one thing that they just couldn't do right. No matter how hard they tried, they could not mix cocktails. Their home-made apple "Alembic" was pure fire-water and so I stayed with the "Moet & Chandon" every time.

That was how the trouble started. I got into good food with a vengeance and when I loaded up my second boat with food and drinks, it looked as if it was gong to sink. (The people working in the "Da Hua" Chinese supermarket in Irvine probably still remember us with wonder... :-) My wife couldn't cook at all when I first met her, but later people would call us the "floating five-star restaurant" for good reason. When we sold the boat again after only ten months, we had both gained five kilograms in spite of all the work. We went around the Chinese restaurants in Tonga to sell our excess supplies. They were very glad to buy our remaining "wood ears", black mushrooms, water chestnuts and the like. The 220 liters of excellent Californian wine had somehow disappeared and so had all the other drinks. I guess they just don't last in the hot tropical weather.

We are still into good food now. Every Sunday evening we get a few friends together for a really good meal. But the rest of the week we try to eat more what is good for us and not just good for the palate. I would never give up the delicious food, though. No way in hell!

Cheers!

Holg

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