Victoria Allman's Blog, page 3
January 4, 2014
The Cure to What Ails You-Conch Salad, Bahamas
The Cure to What Ails You
First published in MarinaLife Magazine
"It'll cure what ails you," Moe, my cab driver, told me as I returned from the market to the boat on Paradise Island in the Bahamas. “You got a backache: Eat a bowl of conch salad. You got da depression: Eat a bowl of conch salad. ” His hearty laugh filled the air. “And best part, here on da island, you can go al’ night with da rum, you eat conch in da mornin’ and you good as new.”
It was these last words I remembered the next day when I found my friend Ian in his cabin, passed out yet still fully clothed with an overwhelming smell of rum emanating off him. He’d been at the casino at the Atlantis resort the night before.
First published in MarinaLife Magazine
"It'll cure what ails you," Moe, my cab driver, told me as I returned from the market to the boat on Paradise Island in the Bahamas. “You got a backache: Eat a bowl of conch salad. You got da depression: Eat a bowl of conch salad. ” His hearty laugh filled the air. “And best part, here on da island, you can go al’ night with da rum, you eat conch in da mornin’ and you good as new.”
It was these last words I remembered the next day when I found my friend Ian in his cabin, passed out yet still fully clothed with an overwhelming smell of rum emanating off him. He’d been at the casino at the Atlantis resort the night before.
October 19, 2013
Aquatic Theatre-Costa Rica
Aquatic Theatre
You would think that the last thing I’d want to do on a day off was jump on a boat. For the past fourteen years I’ve lived onboard various yachts, but my days are busy inside the boat cooking for guests and crew, so when we arrived in Costa Rica the first thing I did was look for a guide with a boat to show me all I’d missed.
We hadn’t motored more than 100 feet from the black volcanic sand of the beach into the bay when Herardo pointed over the water.
“¡Mira!” He swung the bow of the boat toward the mouth of the bay. Two islands covered in a vibrant green canopy of trees blocked the waves of the Pacific and view of endless blue but I doubted the serene beauty was what had the man excited.
You would think that the last thing I’d want to do on a day off was jump on a boat. For the past fourteen years I’ve lived onboard various yachts, but my days are busy inside the boat cooking for guests and crew, so when we arrived in Costa Rica the first thing I did was look for a guide with a boat to show me all I’d missed.
We hadn’t motored more than 100 feet from the black volcanic sand of the beach into the bay when Herardo pointed over the water.
“¡Mira!” He swung the bow of the boat toward the mouth of the bay. Two islands covered in a vibrant green canopy of trees blocked the waves of the Pacific and view of endless blue but I doubted the serene beauty was what had the man excited.
September 21, 2013
Mud Bugging-Louisiana
Mud Bugging
The flat-bottomed aluminum boat glided through Bayou Savage, parting the sea of emerald green and leaving a trail of muddy brown behind us. Overhead, sprays of Spanish moss hung like tinsel from the Cyprus and tupelo trees of the bayou. The zit-zit-zit sound of thousands of dragonfly wings flittered through the thick, muggy air.
We’d already passed half a dozen alligators out sunning themselves under the broiling heat of the day, but they were not what we hunted that day. We were going mud bugging, or searching for crawfish as it is more commonly known across the country. But here in lower Louisiana the Cajun call it mud-buggin’.
The flat-bottomed aluminum boat glided through Bayou Savage, parting the sea of emerald green and leaving a trail of muddy brown behind us. Overhead, sprays of Spanish moss hung like tinsel from the Cyprus and tupelo trees of the bayou. The zit-zit-zit sound of thousands of dragonfly wings flittered through the thick, muggy air.
We’d already passed half a dozen alligators out sunning themselves under the broiling heat of the day, but they were not what we hunted that day. We were going mud bugging, or searching for crawfish as it is more commonly known across the country. But here in lower Louisiana the Cajun call it mud-buggin’.
July 21, 2013
Shore Leave-Apalachicola, Florida
This article originally appeared in MarinaLife Magazine
It was time to get off the boat. Sometimes, the small confining space gets to me. It was time for wide-open sky, endless miles of land, and long white beaches. It was time to go camping.
Leaving the constricting space of the boat behind, Patrick and I loaded up the Jeep and headed west to a secluded campsite at St. Joseph Peninsula State Park on the beach of the Gulf of Mexico.
It was time to get off the boat. Sometimes, the small confining space gets to me. It was time for wide-open sky, endless miles of land, and long white beaches. It was time to go camping.
Leaving the constricting space of the boat behind, Patrick and I loaded up the Jeep and headed west to a secluded campsite at St. Joseph Peninsula State Park on the beach of the Gulf of Mexico.
April 13, 2013
Hawaiian Hiking
It was inevitable. When I looked up at the menu board above the counter and saw a dozen different types of poke--Hawaii’s favorite dish of raw--marinated tuna listed, I knew by the end of our stay on O’ahu I would have tried each and every one of them.
The first taste came as an appetizer to our hike through the Manoa Valley. The large chunks of fresh ahi had a thin sheen of soy sauce, or what the Hawaiians call shoyu, folded with slivers of green onions and a spice paste that might have been the Korean gochutgaru. It was soft in the mouth and fire on the tongue. With the first bite, my earlier decision took on new determination: I HAD to try each and every one.
But first, Patrick was pulling my shirtsleeve to start our hike. Hawaii is like few other places in the world. It’s a place where you can stand on the beach, throw a Frisbee, and hit the sheer face of a cliff in the mountains that shoot skyward in dramatic cuts and folds. Too often a mountainous hike is far away from the port we are docked, but in Honolulu you look up from the waters edge and can take your pick of peaks to summit.
March 26, 2012
The King of Cakes
***This article first appeared in MarinaLife Magazine
I don’t know why I followed the drunk down First Street and around the corner. It’s not something I would normally do, but the more I listened to the man slur and watched him stumble over loose bricks, the more I was certain he was leading me to the right spot.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Patrick asked.
“How could it not be?”
March 12, 2012
My 7 Links Challenge
One of my favorite authors, Christine Kling, has just released Circle of Bones, a nautical thriller set in the Caribbean. As a fan of books set on the water, I quickly devoured every page if this superb book.
Riley is one of the strongest most likable women I've read. I couldn't decide whether I liked her or Cole, the maybe-crazy conspiracy-spouting love interest, more. Riley, a former marine, meets and immediately clashes with Cole, a treasure hunter searching for a lost submarine in the islands. Both are fantastically developed interesting characters and are supported by a cast of believable exciting characters -- even the bad guys are intriguing.The fact this thriller is set on the water makes it hard for me not to love it. Kling is at her best when writing about what she knows and loves --boats and being on the water. Circle of Bones is well researched and reads as if Kling lived this adventure. She brings the reader into the story and you feel like you are right there with her.
Riley is one of the strongest most likable women I've read. I couldn't decide whether I liked her or Cole, the maybe-crazy conspiracy-spouting love interest, more. Riley, a former marine, meets and immediately clashes with Cole, a treasure hunter searching for a lost submarine in the islands. Both are fantastically developed interesting characters and are supported by a cast of believable exciting characters -- even the bad guys are intriguing.The fact this thriller is set on the water makes it hard for me not to love it. Kling is at her best when writing about what she knows and loves --boats and being on the water. Circle of Bones is well researched and reads as if Kling lived this adventure. She brings the reader into the story and you feel like you are right there with her.
February 19, 2012
Following the Money-Being a Charter Yacht Chef
This story originally ran in Dockwalk Magazine, an International magazine for yacht crew and captains.
Following the Money
The wife was quite explicit. "He's on a diet!"
I must have looked dubious. I'd heard that line before.
"This time we're sticking to it." She spoke loud enough that her husband couldn't ignore her any longer.
He rolled his eyes and reached for a cookie from the platter in front of me on the galley counter. "She thinks I'm of an age where I have to watch what I eat." He waggled his fingers in the air to depict quotes and chocolate crumbs fell to the counter below.
Following the Money
The wife was quite explicit. "He's on a diet!"
I must have looked dubious. I'd heard that line before.
"This time we're sticking to it." She spoke loud enough that her husband couldn't ignore her any longer.
He rolled his eyes and reached for a cookie from the platter in front of me on the galley counter. "She thinks I'm of an age where I have to watch what I eat." He waggled his fingers in the air to depict quotes and chocolate crumbs fell to the counter below.
January 29, 2012
A Slice of Eleuthera - Bahamas
"It's a long way to go for pie." Patrick cautioned as we bumped our way along the long stretch of Bahamian road from South Eleuthera to North.
"Yes, but it's worth it." I spoke with authority. It would be our third pineapple pie this week.
Our first day on the island, we'd hiked over a scruffy hill down a crater maze of a road to Surfer's Beach. As the turquoise water curled under Patrick's board, I struck up conversation with a deeply tanned group of surfers who, by sheer appearance alone, looked like they were apart of the Bahamian island itself.
"Yes, but it's worth it." I spoke with authority. It would be our third pineapple pie this week.
Our first day on the island, we'd hiked over a scruffy hill down a crater maze of a road to Surfer's Beach. As the turquoise water curled under Patrick's board, I struck up conversation with a deeply tanned group of surfers who, by sheer appearance alone, looked like they were apart of the Bahamian island itself.
December 17, 2011
The Crossroads-Mississippi Delta to Memphis
We drove through the pecan colors of the Mississippi Delta in late fall. We passed the barren cut remains of cotton fields that were in bloom as recently as last week and dried rusted oak trees that shed their leaves as fast as the levees had broken. Although the skies were bright blue, the scenery was brown.
We were on our way to Memphis in search of blues music and barbecues. I wasn't sure which Patrick was more excited about. The week before, we'd seen a sign reading Caution: You are entering a Ribs and Biscuit Zone, but really, that warning could apply to all our expeditions in the south.
The plan was to eat nothing but barbecue for four days.
We were on our way to Memphis in search of blues music and barbecues. I wasn't sure which Patrick was more excited about. The week before, we'd seen a sign reading Caution: You are entering a Ribs and Biscuit Zone, but really, that warning could apply to all our expeditions in the south.
The plan was to eat nothing but barbecue for four days.
