The ship is very comfortable, there is nothing whatever to grumble about as we live well, sleep warm and nice and have plenty of exercise. The only thing is we are troubled with a smoky stove when the wind is blowing hard. But I think other expeditions have suffered with the same complaint. He never got to the root of this trouble and when the wind was in the South the stove smoked so much that they had to do without it: Not nice in 52° of frost.
—Under Scott’s Command: Lashly’s Antarctic Diaries, Discovery Expedition 1901–1904
Camp 2 Debris Collection (Dec. 26–30)
Stoney Bay Areas 2, 3 & 4: mixed waste
Bellingshausen Areas b1–b3: 1 barrel
It’s not so different from what I see at home: you know the bush, where they have done mining or forestry for a while then abandon the camps. It makes you look a little differently at what you’ve got in your own backyard.
—Volunteer, anonymous
CDStill on the Ioffe. I’m feeling better. I gave a talk to the passengers about our first work camp at Bellingshausen and our aims. I miss everyone, especially Wendy and Lena.
Some grilling (why should we clean up after others) but good feedback.
DECEMBER 31, 1995
CDI spent a few hours in Buenos Aires on stopover with a wonderful man I met at the Ushuaia airport. Australian. Photographer. He was on another ship in Antarctica full of doctors studying penguins and the science of hypothermia. I think I’m in love. How is that possible? Details to follow. Everything since flying yesterday looks different.
Travel to Mongolia, study mosaic-making, write story.
What shall I do? It is my life and I can choose, which is the really exciting thing. 1996 looks great.
Study the treasures of the Antarctic, even after I am dead.
—Lt. Nobu Shirase, Japanese Antarctic Expedition, 1912
{Sandy Nicholson}
PITCH-AND-TOSS COOKERY
Wendy
I blame my mother for my cavalier approach to cooking. Always close by, she let me run free in the kitchen at an early age and whenever I’d ask how much of an ingredient to add or how long to cook something she’d reply, “about that much,” “about that long,” or “until it’s done.” It never occurred to me that there was a definitive answer or that I wouldn’t be able to find one on my own.
That comfort with free-styling recipes played out in bush camps across Canada where I honed and refined my cooking style. A lack of ingredients was common in these circumstances, so when I couldn’t follow a recipe to the letter I’d line up a number of cookbooks open to similar dishes and approximate a meal using available stores. Naming the final creations has always been part of the fun.
Conventional culinary wisdom maintains there is no room for guesstimates in baking. I would never advocate abandoning measuring ingredients, but I admit that when I make my chocolate chip cookies or honey oatmeal bread I never measure—except with my eyes and my fingertips. That said, these recipes have been painstakingly developed, especially for baking. I want you to be successful when you try them at home so I used best-practice rules when measuring flour—I spoon it into a dry measuring cup and level it off using a knife. I don’t do a lot of sifting when I bake, but I would never forgive myself if someone bit into a baking soda deposit in a cookie or muffin. After measuring I put the baking soda in the palm of my hand and press out any lumps. Whisking dry ingredients together in a bowl helps as well.
You’ll find these recipes are written in an idiosyncratic style, but I hope they’ll encourage you to taste, look for visual clues and develop a real feel for whatever you are preparing. You’ll be pitching and tossing before long.
HONEY OATMEAL BREAD (WENDY BREAD)
Of all the types of bread I bake, my honey oatmeal bread is the recipe I fall back on most often. Its modest beginnings are in porridge left over from breakfast. With a generous amount of honey in the mix it bakes into soft lovely loaves that disappear quickly. I typically make a much larger batch than this so that I can turn out some of the other recipes I use this dough for at the same time, but I’ve scaled back the ingredients to create this master recipe. It translates beautifully into Fruit Nut Rings, Cinnamon Buns, or Pizza bases.
4 cups water // 2 cups large-flake rolled oats // 1 cups skim milk powder // cup butter // 1 tablespoon salt // 1 cup honey // 1 cup warm water // 1 teaspoon sugar // 2 tablespoons active dry yeast // 10 to 11 cups all-purpose flour
Bring the 4 cups of water to a rolling boil. Stir in the oats and reduce the heat to medium-low. Cook the oats, stirring often, for about 10 minutes to make a thick and creamy porridge.
While the porridge is cooking prepare all the other ingredients. Put the milk powder, butter, salt and honey into an oversized bowl. (Try a salad bowl or wash basin if you don’t have a mixing bowl large enough.) Have the flour measured and set aside in bowls according to the increments it will be added: one 7-cup and four 1-cup measures. Finish your mise en place by whisking the sugar, yeast and one cup warm water together in a small bowl. Set aside until frothy.
When the porridge is ready add it to the large bowl and whisk vigorously until the butter has melted and any clumps of milk powder are evenly distributed. Squish any stubborn clumps against the side of the bowl. Let cool to lukewarm.
By this time the yeast should be frothy. Add it to the porridge mixture followed by the 7-cup portion of flour, mixing well. Gradually stir in additional flour until you are no longer able to use a spoon, then dust your hands and scrape the dough from the bowl to form a sticky ball.
Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead, adding as much of the remaining flour as is necessary to keep it from sticking. At times the dough may appear to resist the flour, but it may still be quite soft on the inside. If you cut the dough into two equal size parts at this point it is easier to gauge how much more flour is needed. I often cut, check for stickiness, add flour and reunite the dough as many as three times during my kneading routine. I know it’s ready when the dough resists slightly when I push it away, but then snaps back without leaving any lingering stickiness on my hands. This will take 10–15 minutes—the longer the better. Depending upon the weather, your location and the time of year you could have as much as one cup of flour left over.
Return the dough to the bowl after greasing it with butter, turning to coat the dough all over. Cover with a tea towel and put it in a warm place to rise for about 1 hours.
To make the bread
When the dough has doubled in size turn it out onto the floured surface and bring it down with a punch. Knead four or five turns then cover and let it rest for a couple of minutes while you prepare the baking sheets or bread pans.
I’m fond of making three-strand braids with this dough because they bake so quickly and encourage a delicious informality wherever I serve them. It makes equally lovely conventional loaves, free-form boules or dinner rolls. To make conventional loaves follow the shaping directions for Cook’s Bread.
For braids, divide the dough into three equal parts. Knead each one into a uniform ball and set aside. If you have three baking sheets you can work through all the dough at once and control the rise of the braids by keeping them cool. Otherwise the balls of dough will have to wait their turn in the refrigerator and be formed as pans become available.
To form the braids, use a rolling pin or your hands to press each ball into a 6 by 12-inch rectangle. Cut the dough into three identical strands and then roll each of them into uniform ropes of equal length, about 24 inches long. A good technique is to begin with your hands together in the centre of the strand and gradually move them outwards to the ends as you roll. Place the ropes side by side to complete the braids. I find if I begin to braid in the middle and crisscross outwards, one direction at a time, I can avoid stretching or breaking the strands. Join the strands together with a pinch and a tuck at both ends. Repeat for the remaining balls of dough, transferring each of the finished braids to greased baking sheets as you go.
Cover with a clean tea towel and set aside to rise for about one hour or until doubled in size. Bake in the centre of 350°F oven one pan at a time until golden brown, 20–25 minutes. Remove from pan immediately and let cool on rack. Served warm, it pulls apart beautifully. Perfect for dipping.
For smaller braids divide the dough into six parts and press each of them into a 4 by 9-inch rectangle. After you make the strands you’ll want to roll each one into a 15-inch rope. Continue as above but with a baking time of 10–15 minutes.
Makes three large or six small braids.
This bread freezes well either baked or unbaked. To freeze unbaked braids, place them on a baking sheet lined with wax paper, cover tightly with plastic wrap and put the pan in the freezer. After the dough has frozen solid, wrap each braid entirely with plastic wrap, return it to the freezer and reclaim your pan. Alternatively you could use a cardboard flat for canned drinks lined with waxed paper. When you are ready to bake, transfer the braid to a prepared pan, cover with a tea towel and let it thaw and rise until doubled in size, 6–8 hours. I like to take it out of the freezer in the morning to bake it in late afternoon.
ROASTED GARLIC IN HERBED OIL
The inspiration for this dish was a four-foot-long double braid of Argentinean garlic that hung on the wall of my Antarctic kitchen. It is really more method than recipe, as much depends upon mood, pan size and the herbs you have on hand. These proportions fit nicely into a small cast iron skillet—feel free to ad-lib with the herbs. I use fresh instead of dried when available and once on a whim in Antarctica I added a handful of the cranberries the Russians had given me. I like to keep them on hand at home now for the vibrant burst of colour and unexpected flavour and texture they bring to this dish.
6 to 7 heads of garlic // olive oil // 1 teaspoon coarse salt // teaspoon each of peppercorns (try pink or green if available), chili flakes, dried rosemary, sage and thyme // a few bay leaves // a handful of frozen cranberries
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Cut -inch from the tops of the garlic heads to expose the cloves. Remove any messy bits of skin, but not so much as to compromise the bulbs’ structural integrity.
Place the garlic in a skillet or ovenproof dish. Five to six arranged around the perimeter and one in the middle works well—leave a little space in between. Add enough olive oil to come a -inch up the side of the pan and sprinkle with salt, peppercorns and chili flakes. Turn the bulbs to coat with oil and reposition them cut side up. To finish, tuck as many bay leaves as you think looks nice between the bulbs and then scatter the remaining herbs over top, crushing them between your fingers as you go to help release the flavours.
Cover tightly with foil and bake until the skins on the garlic bulbs are golden brown and the cloves are tender. This should take about 50 minutes, but check after 40 minutes and remove the foil to hasten browning if necessary. Add the cranberries 5 minutes before removing the baked garlic from the oven. You can roast the garlic ahead of time and add the cranberries when you are reheating.
Serve tucked in beside warm braids of Honey Oatmeal Bread. I like to encourage the use of hands to pull away and squeeze the cloves onto the bread, but I always have two small spoons at the ready for the less adventurous. A dish for the skins is a good idea.
Makes enough for twenty.
MULLED WINE
I love the look on people’s faces when they catch the first whiff of mulled wine simmering on the back of the stove. The sweet, heady blend of spices lifts even the most mediocre vintage, and the high ratio of orange juice to wine is an advantage if you are trying to eke out dwindling provisions.
10 large oranges (9 for juice and 1 for the pot) // 1 teaspoon whole cloves // 4 allspice berries // 4 cinnamon sticks // 5 cardamom pods // cup brown sugar // 1 bottle dry red wine (750-ml)
Place a sieve over a large pot. Roll nine of the oranges to loosen their juices, then cut and ream each half over the sieve into the pot. Place the pot over medium-high heat.
Slice the remaining orange; spike the slices decoratively with cloves and add them to the pot along with the allspice berries. Next break the cinnamon sticks and crack the cardamom pods; add them to the pot. When the juice begins to steam and bubbles start to form around the side of the pot stir in the brown sugar and reduce the heat to medium-low. After about 10 minutes pour in the wine, cover, and reduce the heat so that it is just steaming.
How long you mull the wine is a matter of personal preference. I don’t obsess about how much alcohol might burn off and simmer it gently for another 40 minutes so that all the flavours get to know one another. And I admit I don’t pay much attention to how long it has been on the back of the stove as guests begin to fill the kitchen over the course of a gathering. Cut it with more orange juice or top it up with wine if you need to bring it back to life and think of the syrupy spicy goodness left at the bottom of the pot as starter for your next batch.
Makes enough for six to eight people.
ROSEMARY MAPLE BORSCHT
Vladimir the Russian cook made his borscht using a meat stock. My version kept the vegetarian volunteers in camp happy and even got the thumbs-up from the Russians. To make vegan Rosemary Maple Borscht just substitute olive oil for butter and hold back on the dollop of crème fraîche or sour cream.
2 pounds beets (around 5 medium) // 3 medium potatoes // 2 tablespoons butter // olive oil // 2 onions // 2 cloves of garlic // 1 celery stalk // 2 large carrots // 1 small cabbage (about 5 cups chopped) // 1 tablespoon caraway seeds // 8 cups water // 3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar // 3 tablespoons maple syrup // 1 can crushed tomatoes (28 ounces) // 1 tablespoon sea salt // pepper // fresh rosemary
Peel and cube the beets and potatoes and put them aside. Heat the butter in a large pot set over medium heat and add the beets and potatoes, tossing to coat them with butter. Reduce the heat and sauté, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon and being careful not to bruise or break the cubes. After about 5 minutes add enough water to cover the vegetables and gently simmer until tender, around 10 minutes.
While the beets and potatoes are cooking, mince the garlic and onions and chop the remaining vegetables. Put the caraway seeds into a large Dutch oven or stock pot and toast them over low heat, pushing them around the pan from time to time so they don’t burn. When you begin to smell the aroma of the caraway add enough olive oil to generously coat the bottom of the pot. Stir in the onions, garlic and celery, sprinkle with salt and cook over medium heat until the vegetables are soft and translucent. Next mix in the carrots and cabbage and sauté for about 5 minutes before adding the remaining water. Bring briefly to a boil and reduce the heat before making the final additions.
Add the beets and potatoes in their cooking liquid, along with the vinegar, maple syrup, crushed tomatoes and a large sprig of fresh rosemary. Cover and simmer for at least 40 minutes to bring the flavours together. Season to taste and make adjustments to the thickness of the soup by adding water as you see fit. Garnish with rosemary and a dollop of crème fraîche or sour cream and serve with freshly baked bread.
Makes enough for ten to twelve people.
Cooking for small teams of volunteers on King George Island meant I had to scale back my recipes from my bush cook days, but only so far. I love that I can get a few meals from this soup. It keeps for five days and freezes well even if you aren’t in Antarctica.
CINNAMON BUNS
I made my first Cinnamon Buns in my early teens on a canoe trip using a prepared biscuit mix and the bottom side of a canoe as my work surface. I switched to a yeast dough not long after I learned how to make bread and have been tweaking my approach ever since. My breakthrough moment came when I started to add oats to the filling and topping. There is a decent argument for the nutritional value they add, but I think their caramelized goodness is more compelling.
1 batch Honey Oatmeal Bread dough made through the first rising // 1 pounds butter at room temperature // 5 cups packed brown sugar // cup cinnamon // cup poppy seeds (optional) // 2 cups large-flake rolled
oats // cup all-purpose flour
Set aside cup of the oats in a medium bowl. Cream the butter and brown sugar together in a large bowl. Stir in the cinnamon, 1 cups of the oats and the poppy seeds if using.
Using a dry measure, add 1 cups of this mixture to the reserved oats and set aside to make a streusel topping later.
When the dough has doubled in size turn it out onto a lightly floured surface, punch it down and cut it into four equal parts. Knead each piece a few turns, roll into uniform balls and set aside to rest while you grease your pans.
As this is a high-yield recipe you’ll likely need to use a variety of pans—when making your selections look for pans with high enough edges to support the rolls. I typically use a combination of baking sheets (with rims), cake pans and pie plates with the intention of keeping some cinnamon buns for home, sharing with friends and freezing a quantity. Heading into busy social seasons I find it really handy to have a stash of hostess gifts at the ready. They freeze well either baked or unbaked.
To form the cinnamon buns, roll out each ball into a 7 by 21-inch rectangle. Spread a quarter of the filling (1 cups) evenly over the dough, pressing it in as you go. Starting at the long side, roll up the dough like a jelly roll. Pinch the seam to seal together and gently roll the dough to make it more uniform.
Using a sharp knife cut the roll into 1-inch slices. Use your hands to coax each piece back into a circle and place it onto a prepared pan. I like to nestle them closely together (up to -inch apart) so they don’t unravel. If you are using a pan with shallow sides you will want to leave space around the perimeter; otherwise you may make a mess of your oven when filling spills over the sides. Repeat with the remaining portions of dough and filling.
The Antarctic Book of Cooking and Cleaning: A Polar Journey Page 7
