Race 11 - Day 16
Crew Diary - Baking Challah at Sea: a Guide for the Perplexed
15 May

First in an occasional series

In my Actual Life, I am a weekly baker of challah, the sweet, eggy, brioche-like bread found at all joyous Jewish occasions.

I am such an enthusiast, I’m found on social media at #ChallahCam, where I post photos of my weekly bake. I am not remotely famous, but I am well-regarded in my own shtetl.

If you are a reader of recipes, I will be honest. I’m not going into some shaggy dog story here, leaving you angrily scrolling to find The Damned Recipe. This is all shaggy, all dog. The recipe will show up another time.

I start baking about 3 a.m. Harsh, I know. But most crew are sleeping – or they were - so they will ignore you. Use this to your advantage.

Dig through the galley, pull out all the half-used bags of flour. There’s sure to be an assortment. Measure the flour as best you can, using the combination of cups, kilos and litres found on most internationally-crewed boats. God go with you into this wilderness.

A crew member working on deck is sure to need some ramen noodles about now. This is also your job, hosting the never-ending ‘Snack Attack and Hot Drinks Service’ for the on-deck crew.

You will be asked to dig out a certain brand of ramen noodles, in a particular flavour. Dig into the enormous ramen stash, eventually give up. Grab random ramen, resolve to ask forgiveness and not seek permission.

Mix flour, yeast, and salt together. Another ramen is sure to follow, plus two white coffees, one with sugar, one without, thank you.

Check eggs for challah carefully. Because earlier on this voyage, there was a ‘Bad Egg Experience’, and it has been decided ‘We Cannot Survive Another’. Crew who refuse to ignore you, despite the late hour, will insist you crack eggs in a secure vapour-locked chamber.

Bad eggs will need to be disposed of using Elon Musk’s proposed garbage-rocket-to-the-sun method. Tweet @Elon for space availability.

Once you have eggs, ‘Oh My God, There’s A Whale!’ - there is much shouting from the on-deck crew. Rush up on deck, obviously too late for any wildlife sightings. Bless your little heart.

Mix wet ingredients – eggs, water, and honey or sugar. Your choice of honey or sugar will depend on your destination’s jurisdiction regarding the honey and raw foods situation.

For guidance, consult a competent Skipper, but only one who is awake! Again, with the forgiveness-permission bit.

Combine the wet and dry ingredients, mix well. Do not confuse mixing with actual kneading.

Zombies are sure to arrive about now. They are usually harmless – bleary, dazed crew waking from their ‘long sleep’ looking for the meal they’ve missed.

This is critical: shove a Tupperware of dinner leftovers at your zombies with all haste. This will help clear leftovers off the too-small counter space so you can knead your dough. And the zombies will eat the leftovers before they realise they’d rather have ramen. A very particular type of ramen.

Once mixed, knead the dough. Realise you’ve forgotten salt. Right? Completely lose the plot here, even if not distracted by a ‘Sail Drop Gone Horribly Wrong’.

Someone wants coffee with sugar. Add some salt to the dough as you knead, split the difference between recipe amount and ‘What You Think You Can Live With’.

Wait. Make sure the coffee gets the sugar and the dough gets the salt. People can be very fussy about this point. Because somehow everyone’s developed a world-class palate on this trip.

Knead dough for five full minutes, stopping the game clock for interruptions. Let it rise for as long as you can, until roughly doubled in size.

When doubled, punch down and shape into loaves. Let it rise again.

Check your urine colour for dehydration. Sip water. Consider all life choices. Especially the one about picking the racing boat over the boat with the water slide. Vow not to repeat this mistake.

There will be shrieking on deck at some point, two distinct types of shrieking. This is an attack of flying fish, landing on deck, and on unfortunate crew members.

Some people shriek because they don’t like the foul-smelling, floppy wet fish slapping their faces. Others shriek – with laughter – at the flying fish victims. Choose your team, cheer approvingly.

Dough is now ready for baking! Preheat the oven to its single temperature setting, ‘White Hot Lava’.

If you are sailing in a warm climate – and somehow the galley is always in a warm climate – the dough will have risen like a volcano. Out of all proportion to the amount of yeast you used. Do not be deterred. You are a professional.

Jam all your dough into your tiny boat oven – against its will if necessary. Think of it as a version of the bin-packing computer game Tetris.

It is now time for your watch on deck, although the bread is still in the oven. Set a timer, anxiously check the bread every five to seven minutes.

When it is done, wrench pans from the oven with lava-proof gloves. Use your knife skills to remove charred and crispy bits.

Let challah cool. Return to your on-deck duties. Call down to the next galley attendant, request a specific brand of ramen. That one in the white package you had last night. Really brothy, please. And wait until serving before adding the enclosed little packet of fried shallots.