Boat Food: Magic Meatloaf
One last installment in the Boat Food series, and then we’ll move on to something else for a while.
If this product were available on the open market, it might make somebody rich, or it would be illegal, or both.
To understand the effect of Magic Meatloaf, we’ll travel back in time to the 2015 Offshore Racing season.
The first day of the Annapolis-Newport Race went better than expected. Everything on Triage seemed to be working and we were holding up well, until the boat turned out into the Atlantic Ocean, heading away from land. The weather deteriorated. Mist and fog settled in and the wind shifted to the northeast- the direction of the finish line. Day two of the race was just plain hard. The steering cable jumped the quadrant, making the boat difficult to steer. The navigator and I had to make an hour long repair in the cramped aft compartment. The cold, damp, and lumpy conditions meant everybody had to wear full foulies and harness when ever they were on deck. About 11 PM on the second night, I got seasick and had to be poured into my bunk half way through my 4 hour watch. By morning of day three, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, I was feeling better, and the crew was settling into a functioning routine. The wind was still from the wrong direction, forcing the us to zig-zag towards the finish, but it was moderating and the seas were flattening out. The crew were sleeping better on their off-watch and we were able to have hot meals again.
Dinner on day three was veritable feast of mini meatloaf with green beans and new potatoes. Lovingly prepared by The Captain weeks before the race, each mini meatloaf was baked in its own little pan, wrapped in foil and deep frozen, so that it would keep until well into the 5 day race. On the boat, the now thawed “marvel of scuptured meat” was warmed in the little alcohol burning stove, and served in the specially designed red plastic dish, and eaten with a ultra-light spork. The crew raved to The Captain about how good the meal was, and thanked her for feeding them so well. With full stomachs and improving weather, the off-watch crew quickly became a symphony of drooling snores when they dropped into their bunks.
Day 4 saw the sun climb above the cloudless horizon. As the crew reluctantly assembled for the watch change, I got the navigator’s brief and hand-off from the watch captain. The bow man, last out of his bunk, joined in the jostle of elbows and gear, and said, “Wow, I slept so well and had a crazy dreams. Did anybody else have crazy dreams?”
I said, “Yeah. I did! I dreamed about this kid. Government agents were trying to find him because he could analyze and interpret the randomness of windshield wiper movements. It was like an episode of the X-Files.”
The bowman responded, “Wow, that’s crazy. I never considered there might be some kind of language in the swipe of the wipers, but I gotta tell you, in my dream, I met a talking shark.” The other crew chuckled at the notion and were hooked on his story. The bowman continued, “It was so real! And this shark, it was part of a shark gang. And after talking to the shark for a while, it asked me if I wanted to join the gang!” Everybody laughed and there was a round of back slapping, shark gang jokes, and discussion about the meaning of dreams.
After the watch change was completed, the navigator came on deck and advance a theory, “Do you think it was the meatloaf?”
The bowman chimed in, “It had to be.” Turning to The Captain, he said, “What’s in it? Can we have that again? Because that was Magic Meatloaf! I can’t wait to get back to my bunk and find out more about the shark gang!”
For the next three years, The Captain’s Magic Meatloaf was on the menu for of every offshore race.