Clipper Adventurer

Dining at Sea
I dive into the Oyster’s Rockefeller—tonight’s cocktail hour offering—after all, I haven’t had a thing since lunch. Spartan-like I’d abstained from the warm-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies which materialize in the lounge every afternoon. Okay, so I was napping.

Dinner commences as the sun descends behind the Channel Islands. Shafts of its golden light stream through the Adventurer’s dining room setting the silver and crystal glimmering and the teak paneling and peacock-blue carpeting glowing.

Shipboard friends wave me over—everyone eats at the same time but sits where they want—and we immediately start gabbing about today’s adventures on this voyage of castles and gardens. We’d tread cobbled streets in St. Peter’s Port and drifted about nineteenth-century Guernsey gardens. Just before cocktails, our on-board Brit historian gave us the low-down on the Bayeux Tapestry—an embroidery, not a tapestry, depicting the 1066 Norman invasion of England. He wants to make sure we won’t be duped by tomorrow’s French guide.

The topic, however, quickly turns to dinner. Last night, the roasted red pepper soup was wonderful—smooth, smoky and just a little piquant—even so, I pass on tonight’s Clam Chowder. Opting instead for a light start with the salad of crisp greens, cucumbers, tomatoes and dill vinaigrette with a slice of today’s fresh ship-made bread.

Normally, I ponder the menu for ages, torn between entrées. Tonight’s choice, however, is easy—roasted rack of lamb. Although, I hope someone will order the grilled halibut with walnut beurre blanc so I can finagle a taste. Vegetarians will feast on stuffed peppers slathered with spicy marinara sauce and pasta lover’s will slurp their noodles smothered in the traditional Bolognese blend of tomatoes, beef and herbs.

The lamb on this voyage is customarily from Ireland but tonight’s lamb is from the United States. Indeed, in deference to a mad cow, all the meat is from the US. Mad Cow Disease further compels us to make do with American rather than French pâté and only with pasteurized cheeses—I’ll get over it.

During menu-mulling, the wine steward arrives ready to describe tonight’s featured wine and to discover who among us has wine open from previous occasions. The Adventurer has an extensive, appealing—and, dare I say?—adventurous wine cellar.

The lamb, encrusted with a Dijon mustard and breadcrumb crust is first rate. It’s roasted to a juicy and flavorful pink. The rich and smooth flavors of parsleyed potatoes and ratatouille—a heavenly blend of eggplant, tomatoes, onions and summer squash—chime in with the lamb. I savor every bite.

For a sweet, the dreamy-creamy ship-made ice cream (oh, just a half order please) will surely suffice. Tonight, however, Executive Chef, Carl Reier and Pastry Chef, Efren Dagdag are performing Banana’s Foster in the lounge after dinner. A gala performance it is—bananas sautéing, brandy flaming and ice cream melting—the consummate ice cream party. It would do New Orleans proud.

"I have the best job in the world" Carl enthuses. He loves to cook. He loves the challenge of receiving his dried and frozen supplies by cargo ship at two month intervals. He loves hopping off the ship at different ports to find us something special—like the mussels he picked up in St Malo or the pasties in Cornwall or the sole in Dover.

Carl even manages to find delicacies in the world’s most remote outposts: the big Antarctica maple syrup/Gorgonzola swap, for instance. Turns out the chef at the American Antarctic station—who gets provisions only once a year!—is a friend of a friend and they got to comparing notes. A high-seas-variety accident left Carl (and his passengers) with no maple syrup. Not exactly a dire strait, but Carl wondered, "Say, you haven’t got any extra maple syrup?" The station chef did and trade negotiations resulted in the Gorgonzola cheese for maple syrup swap. Apparently, fresh cheese had missed the ship for the annual Antarctic delivery.

A big, cheerful fellow, Carl is from Little Egg Harbor, New Jersey and came to cooking by way of hotel management. He trained at the CIA—the prestigious Culinary Institute of America, not the spies—and worked restaurants, country clubs and other cruise lines before coming to Clipper.

Every day the Adventurer’s tables are spread with Carl’s enthusiasm. He explains the basic structure of the menu. Every night there’s a different soup, possibly a bouillabaisse or a minestrone and a special salad. The four choices of entrées—seafood, meat or chicken, pasta and vegetarian—change every night as does the featured dessert such as Sacher Torte or Berry Shortcake. By popular demand, however, the ship-made ice creams and sorbets have to be served every night.

Breakfast and lunch are also designed to please a variety of tastes in venue as well as food. A continental breakfast and a soup and sandwich lunch are served buffet-style every day in the lounge for the casual diner. Individually prepared breakfasts and lunches are served in the more formal, white-table-cloth dining room. Passengers, however, need never be formal. Casual dress is the norm, even for the Captain’s dinner.

The Adventurer’s bounty of food and wine fuels us all to adventure on. Although if I keep up with the whole caboodle, I might waddle through the next castle.

                              By Kate Crawford  October  2001