Wednesday, October 8 2014

Welcome to Moorea

A little island with only 60 kilometers of roads. We know it well, because we have scoured the area by bike. Departing from Haapiti, alongside the sea, all the way to Cook Bay, which penetrates deeply into the island, almost to its center. It was from this point on we went up into the valley and little by little, pedaling hard uphill, we arrived to the agricultural area. A hidden small stretch in Moorea surrounded by crops, small farms, cows, bulls and crustacean farms. Jeff soul surfer and aspirant to Boca del Toro coconut throne join me in this journey, he took all the pictures in this edition of ollas y olas. 

Haapiti wave: happy iti! 

Haapiti a wave that breaks in not so shallow waters, is temperamental: sometimes yes, sometimes no. This break is greatly affected by the direction of the swell and the wind. I got some good waves and some scary moments too. The break can hold a big swell, I would say, some 4 meters. I thought all reef breaks were the same, but not so much, each one has its own personality.

 

Haapiti pot:  White thorn  with Pompolmouse sauce.

This recipe was born near Haapiti during our first weeks in the area. Jeff got zikka fever (similar to dengue fever) so I was pedalling around the whole island trying to get fresh corn, an essential ingredient for the tamalitos verdes which are, as we all know, the best cure for all ills. On one of these daily walks, this time up the hill, found some star fruits on the side of the road and thought that if nobody picked them up they would go bad, so I decided to leave the tamalitos verdes for another day and cook with local products.

Ingredients

Pompolmouse is a grape fruit that grows in the Polynesian islands. Differently from the common grape fruit, this cultivar from the Pacific is a surprisingly sweet giant and I say surprisingly, because to the naked eye it might appear to be green, but believe me, it is just the looks. With one is enough, like everything else here, they are huge.

1 white onion finely diced

2 white tuna fish or White Thorn filets captured by local artisan fishermen

Pompolmouse juice (from 1)

Starfruit

1 teaspoon of rocoto paste

A splash of dry white wine

2 tender pompolmouse leaves

Side dish

3 white potatoes peeled

1 butter lettuce

1/2 white onion cut in fine julienne 

3 parsley sprigs

 A splash of cream 

1 garlic clove smashed 

Start by the side: 

Boil the peeled potatoes cut in medium cubes; add the garlic. When the potatoes are really soft, add in the white onion cut in julienne and let cook on low fire. When onions are soft, add the parsley finely chopped and at the end the lettuce cut very finely and take it out of the fire. Before serving add a splash of milk when warming it up.

The fish:

Cut the fish in medallions and season it with salt, a few drops of pompolmuose and a little bit of white pepper. Seal the medallions in a pan and keep them warm.

Caramelize onions, deglaze with a splash of white wine. When the wine has evaporated, add the pompolmouse juice and one of the pompolmouse leaves finely cut. Cook for a little bit until  it is thicker.

To dish:

Put in the plate the caramelized onions and on top the fish, the starfruit cut in very thin slices, and cover with the sauce sauce. We use the rocoto paste teaspoon to decorate the plate. A tad of spiciness goes perfect with the sweetness of the dish.

The Pacific's tuna

When you travel you see beautiful things and those beautiful things are what I focus on and  what I like to share; that for pessimistic, we already have the news and newspapers. But there are sad things, which I feel the responsibility to share with you, now that I know better the sea. A few years ago I heard about these things but back then I didn't imagine they were so damaging.

Going back in time a few months ago, one day when crossing the Pacific we run into a Helicopter flying around us. We had not seen anybody since we left California coast, 10 days before. We exchanged glances of curiosity and waved at each other before each one continued with their course. I kept on thinking, what are these people doing here flying in the middle of nothing? and later I realize this solitude is not such.  There is life and it is this life these people are running after, particularly the one of the Pacific Tuna. The people in the helicopter are part of a crew of one of the numerous mega fishing boats that operate in this huge but not infinite ocean.

Is an unequal fishing this one that take place in the open ocean, and I am not only saying it just like a mermaid song but as a cook and sailor, a ceviche, tatami lover in general  a fan of fish and seafood in my plate. 

The sea birds are the ones that “sing it” with out a clue, they fly over the schooling fish in search of a bite. The fishing helicopters hover over the area and when they see a flock of birds they fly in that direction to confirm there is a fish school, only then the boat steers its course to those coordinates and throws its fishing nets. Nets that can be as long as 100 kilometers and of course capture the whole Tuna fish school and all the animals that coexist within it. This way, they don't give them a chance to escape and reproduce. Breaking families, societies whose last names will not survive; genetic variability lost forever. Let's remember that although they all are only tuna to our eyes, each one has adaptation and survival potentials that might be unique, generated by mother nature and its complex spiderwebs.

This kind of fishery is relatively new, it started approximately 20 years ago and seeing it with fool eyes is very efficient. Taking the definition used to study systems, the input put to the ship versus the output -in this case the fish obtained- is very efficient. But where in this vision, intentionally twisted, is the fishing of tomorrow? The efficient use of our resources? Well with all this efficiency, helicopters and fishing technology, left they are out of the picture. Marine resources will be scarcer each day and more expensive; more benefits for some, of course, but for the rest:no hay pescao! And for the fishes? Nobody cares about the fishes, just to have them on the table at accessible prices today; and what about tomorrow? Well we will figured out? mmm no sé, as a scientific don’t believe in miracles.

I have grown up. I don't feel sad anymore killing a Mahi Mahi  that I captured on a small sailing boat or the Wahoo -almost my size- we caught while on the Kaimana, or the octopus I caught on the beach shore in Tuamotus. Today I would feel sad of I open a can of tuna, feeling myself all fit and healthy while I am consuming the destruction of our ocean. 

Minimega Domani and the coconut factory 

Meanwhile here in Moorea,  coconut recollection has become part of the daily agenda. It is hard work, but someone has to do it, and who would be better than us who spend days anchored in Haapiti waiting for the swell to come back or looking through the window ready to set sail towards Huahine.

Larry, a fugitive born in South Africa but raised in the Caribbean, has invited us to stay in his sailboat. So here we are aboard of SY Domani enjoying the simple life. While sitting on the deck we see coconuts drifting on the open sea or near the coast, if lucky only need to jump into the sea, swim for a few meters and come back to the boat victorious with a coconut in hand. When we go exploring in the dinghy we stop the motor to pick up the coconuts floating near us. Today we went more pro since we spotted  a bunch of them at 100 meters from the Domani in the sand bank. Jeff, who hash a great coconut expertise, made sure they are good and I, following his instructions, swam with a net and got them. In less than half an hour we came back with 7 coconuts. 

Now to process them, that is the difficult part. Firsts things first: to get to the kernel. This part is done by the boys; not with a machete or an axe but with a dinghy anchor, the local way of doing it. Hapitti boys taught us how to do it. They peel a coconut in less than a minute!

In the Polynesia there is a tool that makes it easy grated the coconut meat. Is a wooden board with a narrow end -approximately 6 centimeters- on which it is screwed a kind of a disk like a spur, with a sawed sharp edge around the circumference and slightly tilted to one plane that we will place upwards. To grind it you just seat on the wooden part over in any flat rock and start rubbing the open coconut over the spur. It's unbelievable how easy is grinding the coconut this way. After, with a fine gauze just need to squeeze hard to get the milk. This is the first time I have made coconut milk and I think it is the official farewell to the canned coconut milk. In 40 little minutes you can get 3 or 4 cups depending on how milky the coconuts are.Afterwards, with the coconut shell you can make other wonders like, dishes, cups, pots for herbs, toys for kids, fishing tools, shoes. Lately, our life in Moorea revolves around coconuts recollection, for sport, consumption and love to the art.

Panna Cotta with Pompolmouse

ingredients

2 cups of coconut milk

1/4 cup of confectioner's sugar or less (taste it as you move forward)

2 1/2 sheets of unflavored gelatin

1 vanilla pod

a tad of ground cinnamon

1 pompolmouse

In a small pot bring coconut milk to a boil, add the vanilla (seeds and pod) and let infuse for about 10 minutes. Add the sugar, the gelatin previously hydrated and boil it again just for 30 seconds.  Place in the cups you are using to serve and once they are cold take them to the refrigerator for 8 hours minimum. If you want to unmold them, place the molds for a few seconds in hot water until you see they are loose. Spread nicely pompolmouse wedges around. The contrast between the creamy and sweet and the citric is really good.

Tuamotus archipelago

Changing latitudes was what I liked the most, there's no need to change the clocks: nothing else to do but seeing how the hours of dawn and sunset change gradually. We are again mere witnesses. As with surfing, sailing help attune my senses. Things I couldn't care less for before are now the first things I notice when come out onto the deck; like the shape of clouds, the change in the strength and direction of the wind and; during the night, the magnificent stars.

In five days we will arrive to Tuamotus. I remember the first time I saw this archipelago in the map. Checking it Google Earth and these islands appeared in front of my eyes, not even islands; these islander rings. I laughed, they seemed not real, like a joke.Like the draw of a child. I thought that one day I would like to go there but was very distant desire, like a shooting star wish, like when you wish to tele-transport yourself or to fly.

Mauururu an island the other way around

It seems like leaving an ocean to enter into another, smaller. A little cup of sea. They are called atolls and are the opposite of islands. Sea surrounded by land and this land, again surrounded by the pacific ocean. A stretch of approximately 300 meters width constitute an imperfect ring that rest on the Pacific Ocean. In Mauururu, there is only one pass that communicates the lagoon with the open sea at all times.

After a few days moored in the pass we noticed something curious: water always flowed from the inside of the atoll to the outside. We thought the tidal changes would determine if the water leaves or enters the lagoon, but this is not the case. The water enters the lagoon by the south stretches where the atoll is narrower. Over there, small and occasional natural waterways appear and are used by the small sharks, fish and me with the kayak. Locals told me that these waterways only appear when the swell is strong and comes from the south because in the north the atoll is too wide. Almost a 3/4 of a mile! 

When there is no swell, the flow of water through these channels is almost nonexistent. The lagoon looks like enclosed in a bubble. Sounds like a cliché but the sky melts with the sea in ways I have never seen before. A harmony of pastels that change slowly from orange to turquoise, to translucent while you are standing still feeling like you are in another dimension, totally sober. I was forgetting to mention that in Mauururu alcohol trade is forbidden by law.

The waves are here and it was worth waiting. They are clean lefts that break very close to the reef, one after the other, in different sizes, uniformly perfect. For the locals are dancing in the waves. Impressed. The drop is fast, just as they break their size increases showing their power when breaking in a blast, in a few meters, unless you are local and go play on top the reef. A perfect wave in a little island with a narrow pass, must not confuse it with a small wave.  The expression good things come in small packages is a perfect match for these waves. I think seven surfers in these waves would be too many.

                                                                                     Foto: Melissa Mahoney

                                                                                     Foto: Melissa Mahoney

                                                                                     Foto: Melissa Mahoney

                                                                                    Foto: Melissa Mahoney

Octopus Hunting

Today while I was paddling the kayak around town, getting acquainted with the reef around the village, looking for waterways and a quiet place to sit on, I found a small sand beach. Some thirty coconut trees in the shore make it even more inviting so I beached the kayak. Reaching a coconut didn't look easy so I stayed enjoying the shade and a beautiful view. I was submerged in my thoughts and starting to fall sleep in the purest St. Martin style, when a visitor attracts my attention and brings me back to Mauururu. A curious and unfortunate little octopus came to me on a small wave. In this pristine sea, even seated  good meters away, its fluid movements betrayed it. With very little faith, like playing my only card, I placed the end of the paddle in its way and surprisingly it fell for it. It embraced  the paddle and rapidly I took it out of the water. Very nervous -both of us- battled in the shore, the octopus trying to escape back to the sea and I wanting to go back in time and never had come across its way. But the match is one. I keep turn it around like an anticucho spining my next move. By the coconuts I saw coming a smiling big man who probably watched the whole scene. He laugh hard and offered me a coconut and finished the dirty job. I went back to the boat, happy with our fresh caught lunch. 

                                                                                     Foto: Melissa Mahoney

The recipe I share along with this adventure is how to wash and boil an octopus.

To boil the octopus

1 octopus of 1 Kg  (at least, if its smaller doesn't taste good)

1 turnip

1 tomato

1 hand of white rice

2 bags of green tea

a splash of soy sauce

Whole black pepper grains

A lot of salt and a plastic strainer or sand and a rock

Mihano -which is the name of the local who helped me kill the octopus- not only helped me with the octopus but taught me the local way to wash an octopus.  And that is how life goes in Mauururu, the psychological and pathologic rush that affects us, mostly in big cities here is nonexistent.

Once the octopus is dead, he seat and "dust" it like a milanese but with beach sand. Then  look for a stone that feels comfortable in his right hand and start rubbing it over the sanded octopus in such a way that the slime of the octopus comes off. Eventually he dip the octopus in the sea, "sand" it again and continue rubbing until feel it is soft enough and free of slime. This is the Tuamotu way to clean an octopus.

If we are not lucky enough to be on the beach but in a kitchen, we can simulate the Faaite style cleaning with salt and the help of a plastic strainer. Pour quite a bit of salt over the octopus and rub it against the strainer like you were washing dirty clothes but really dirty clothes. As with the previous method, we will see the foam appearing on the octopus skin as the slime disappears. Same as before we will verify -by rubbing with our hands- that it is soft and there is no slime. If you feel any slime,  just put a little more salt and go again with the rubbing. 

In a big pot we put 9 liters of water, add all the ingredients but the octopus and bring it to a boil over high heat, really high, should look like a witch's cooking pot.

We need to take out everything inside the head of the clean octopus. Don't forget to take out his mouth, a small beak that looks like a mussel. Then we need to scare it five times, this is dip it into the boiling water five times grabbing it by the head. After each plunge -here I recommend to use gloves so you don't burnt yourself- take it by the end of the tentacles and stretch it. After the fifth time we leave it in the boiling water for 40 minutes without turning down the heat. Next we will verify if it is soft with a knife and let it cool down in the same pot, patiently.

In Mauururu when not waves the point is magasin Mohana, home of our friend Tiarere, a talented dancer and choreographer.

After visiting a few times and make friend the girls invited me to dance with them. They want me to be part of the parade for the Heiva that will take place next Saturday.  Tahitian dances are difficult to master but the girls are disciplined and get together every day, sometimes twice a day to practice. I am not so disciplined and only join them when there are no waves. My lack of perseverance and of talent kept me from participating in the comparsa officially. But still I join them and become part of the group.We made with palms and flowers the most beautiful outfits for the parade night. I kept on trying to get the Tahitian swing.

The day of the contest arrived and the three groups participating are good and very happy. My group is the happiest because they won the first place. To celebrate, Sunday we made a small bonfire on the beach, we danced, sang and drank "Mapu" -a coconut beer sold secretly here in Mauuru. We go back to our homes at 4 in the morning, time flew.

Foto: Melissa Mahoney

In the same way as we arrived, two weeks later, in a hurry, without thinking much, still dreaming of coconut crab.

The Marquesas: simple life au poisson cru

The Marquesas is one of those places where things have to be maximun simplified.  The locals know it well, and after a week here we know it too. Lately, like my recipes witness, simplicity has not been my religion; but the new latitude had hit me and suddenly what was essential, today feels exaggerate and almost ridiculous; everything.

Walking by the beach we see a group of people hanging out over the reef, the tide is very low, they barely wet their feet. Our first impression is that they are working. Fisherwoman? Shellfish diggers? Overcoming shyness and the linguistic barrier we get closer to find out what they are doing. They have place a kind of a production station, there is a table with two containers with water, lime halves and some cloths. The catch: dark spider crabs. The first person in the chain break them in halves; the second one dives it inwater; the third -and there is where we lined up- squeezes them, put some lime drops on it and suck them out. Their teeth are already black, they must have been there for quite a while; I don't blame them it's delicious. Each bite feels like a plunge in the sea, in this brownish and sharky sea where it is wise to lean for imaginary plunges. Nor shellfish diggers or fisherwoman, it was just a family picnic in the purest Marquesan style. When we left they gave us a ziplog bag with a few critters for the road.

We have been anchored in Nuku Hiva for a week, trying to fix the sailboat power generator. It is important because in our next destination, the Tuamotus archipelago, rain is scarce and without generator we cannot use the reverse osmosis system to obtain fresh water. We have been in the bay for a week and we already know everybody in town, everybody in town knows us; and know that our generator is broken and that first we thought it was the capacitor, that then we discarded that and now suspect that is the diot.

Curious fact: we tried the spider crabs back in Kaimana, a few hours after our encounter with the Picnic and their magic was gone. Seems like this delicacy is only such when eaten in situ.

Poisson cru au lait de coco

Poisson cru au lait de coco, is one of the French Polynesian delicious food. With Marquesan stamp: simple. 

Cut pieces of white fish in strips or small squares, salt them, pour over some coconut milk; add cucumber or cabbage, carrot diced the way you like, finally a lime slice. Nothing else is needed. Very, very important: fresh fish, green lime and fresh coconut milk.

So much talking about the latitude, simplicity and the ten monks, but the truth is that I can't help myself: I changed the recipe a bit. I seasoned the greens with a little bit of chives, a few drops of lime and a small splash of coconut oil. Add to the fish lime zest and some togarashi. I have to say that the original recipe is simple as it ought to be. The other ingredients are just my craving, or yours or the market's salesmen.

400 gr white fish

1/2 cup of fresh coconut milk  

1 lime

Cabbage or cucumber

Carrot

Leaves of lettuce

Macho men style, without hair conditioner or water maker we decided to leave to the Tuamotu atolls. If locals over there can live without a water maker we can too, The swell conditions are perfect in the atoll we are going so Mauruuru! We are getting closer to the paradisiacal waves in this transoceanic trip.

This journey will be shorter than the previous; we calculate five days sailing with favorable wind. I'd love to stay some more days, to learn how to make those breadfruit chips my friends talked me about and go to the waterfalls. I am starting to feel the melancholy of leaving which is now so familiar. Mixed emotions dance over the sea as we weigh the anchor, but non stand out, all diced to take a dive. Curiosity about the next destination, feeling like surfing but the certitude of leaving an amazing place without exploring it, know it enough. Nothing to do, where the captain rules the sailor has no sway, less do the cook. It will be another time. 

Thank you Melissa Mahoney, who take all this nice pictures. 

Kaimana Pacific Crossing

Now I am quite sure: flying fish not only exist but they live both in the Atlantic and the Pacific. They prowl around as they please until they cross with a bonito or a mahi mahi, or if very unlucky, land on the deck of a boat.

To cross the Pacific leaving from San Diego, United States, will take us 25 days aboard the Kaimana, a 42' feet long catamaran. Next time we land it will be in The Marquesas Islands. Which specific island? Depends more in how winds and currents behave through the crossing. We are 4 aboard, the capitan Matt, the owners of Kaimana a Hawaiian couple Melissa and Scott and me. The best crew for this journey two very good surfers and a super woman, for three of us the first ocean crossing, a good star is with us.   

Before leaving the port, I feel something unexpected, I think I wasn't really aware of how far we were going. My heart starts beating really fast, I feel like hugging anybody on the dock, say goodbye to somebody, it doesn't really matter who. That feeling stays for several hours, until the sea little by little cradle me and I feel welcome, blessed to find myself comfortably saying see you later to the shore. 

                                                  

Urban pirate enjoying life in San Diego

Today is the 11th day, in terms of distance we are halfway, 1500 nautical miles. We have had good wind for the whole first week, sailing at an average of 8 knots, literally surfing little bumps, swaying harmoniously and comfortably. Poseidon has been good to us, a mahi mahi, a yellow fin tuna and seven bonitos of 5 kg each. With an offering in between: herbs, tobiko and Peruvian rocoto all wrapped in a sacred Hawaiian leaf.

Mahi Mahi for the ceviche 

Learning how to reel in a fish con Scott 

After a week and a day under way, by latitude were afraid had arrived to the doldrums strip, which in plain Christian means: no wind for two days. Sailing very, very slow, at about one or tow knots or none and always motoring as well. That was what the map and our position in the earth suggest, but from the said to the fact there a big space, so as the day goes by the wind blows over our stern steadily at some 12 knots, allowing us to sail with the spinnaker reaching speeds up to 7 knots. Not bad for the doldrums! We laugh, with the wind in our favor we feel masters of the ocean that we successfully sail.

Somewhere in the Pacific

Yesterday we had a storm; the sea was furious, 37 knots against us, the waves that come with such a windy. Can't talk regarding the size, it was dark, no moon not a drop of light. I only know they were big and coming from different directions, because occasionally  break stern over the deck. Fifteen hours lasted the storm. During my shift I felt the energy of the ocean, that energy I like so much. It was spitting us, rocking us hard and maybe officially baptizing us: Kaimana in Hawaiian means exactly that, the strength of the ocean or the sea. There is no right to bear such a name without having tried plain cinnamon. I felt the solitude in where we were like a needle, a little piece floating in the world. Watch out with the ego, we are tiny beings with a surprising capacity to consider ourselves big, the center of the universe. Being out there you understand that we are not from any reasonable standpoint, the center of the universe; we are only actors or even better, vectors.

The calm arrived, not suddenly like the songs claim, but little by little. After bum,bum, bum we are now with the waves against us but the wind to our favor, able hoist up the sails again. With the current and a south wind too strong to hold our course, we are now moving at an average of 4 knots. It is so true the phrase “al mal tiempo buena cara”, there is nothing we can do  at this point but to endure the beating on the boat, smile and enjoy the pleasure of being here now, surrounded by the sea, by peace with no rush, being happy because the storm is over and we still have a mast and are afloat.

It seems surreal to be here, outside the time, in a small sailing boat at 5 knots, or 5 nautical miles per hour; approximately 6 miles per hour, in a journey of 2,100 miles searching for waves and sea and more sea. My shift today is at dawn; well the clock says 6:30 but the sun has not yet risen. Seems to be the moment we were waiting for to give ourselves one hour by pushing back our clock. We are outside the time, marked by a new kind of routine:  6 hours nights with 2 hours shifts. Check our fresh goods daily to make sure they are not going bad, see the stars just in case the compass had gone crazy, put attention to the wind strength and direction, see the clouds, check that the sails are well suited.

The chicken sings when a fish on the best by Matt.

We caught some fish today. Never saw one that big. Taking shifts, Matt, Scot and Melissa reel fight with it for a quite bite, while I astonish look trying to learn how to reel in a fish.  It took its time but couldn't be better: Wahoo 4.5 feet. I don't know the name of Wahoo in Spanish, I know it is from the family of the macarel; and to be loyal to the truth, this is the nicest fish for frying or grilling I have ever tried. I will have to be forgive by my beloved Chita,  peruvian fish, witch until now have take that place in my kitchen.

Cooking Kitchari with Melissa in a nice calm day

We have arrived. After 21 days of blue sea, we saw land. It is green with high hills. It looks like a little piece of the Peruvian high jungle in a curvy island. It is so nice to arrive somewhere by sail with slowly changing angles as you move forward. We are in Nuku Hiva, in a town called bla bla bla, I said town but it is the capital of The Marquesas Islands.  Happy for completing the journey, we go down. As I put mi first feet on land and like to make me feel at home, a radio is playing a known bachata. Seems like Latin music also crossed the Pacific, a while ago.

Gracias Kaimanos for the nice crossing  and the sharing

Nuku Hiva