We would like two big chickens, we will kill them…
The vast list of provisions unattainable in Indonesia is topped by two ingredients very dear to the hearts of the Khulula crew: Fresh meat and fresh bread…
Well, that isn’t entirely true, as the latter can be found in a highly processed, VERY sweet format that will leave one feeling as if they have consumed 15 doughnuts back to back.
The problem of fresh meat is magnified by the fact that we have been unable to catch a SINGLE pelagic fish (tuna, mahi mahi, Spanish mackerel, dorado, wahoo etc) since sailing into Indonesian waters. Even the shallow Arafura sea was giving more love to our lures. It definitely is not due to lack of trying either, Khulula trails multiple lines wherever she goes, like some disinterested spider that has given up on building a half hearted web.
Why no fish? We hear it is due to the full moon (the fish feeding at night) and the trade winds (June, July and August creating weird anti fish currents) and a multitude of other reasons from the locals. We are starting to suspect that the waters are devoid of fish, plain and simple!
Anyway, back to the yarn…
We knew we had reached a new stage of feral when a clucking box containing two chickens was produced the day after the magical words of “Saya mau dua Ayam, terima kasih” were spoken. When you order a chicken in Indonesia, it arrives warm, feathered and definitely clucking. Shane and I contemplated this box with a mild form of trepidation, slowly coming to terms with what needed to be done to get these animals into our bellies.
The adage “Running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off” could not be closer to the truth, and, at the risk of sounding callous, it is pretty hilarious! Bread board, sharp knife, someone to hold the chicken down, and a firm slice releases an unprecented store of feathered kinetic energy as the headless chicken charges around the beach, pirouettes in the air, runs in circles and eventually collapses in the sand.
That’s the easy part…
Next comes the post cluckin’ pluckin’! The key here is a large pot of boiling water in which to pre-dip the foul and to loosen the feather bases (feather bases? Whatever…) Now you have a hot, wet, headless chicken. Good times. Surprisingly, this part is actually SUPER easy and can be very tidy and efficient. No worries at all. Note: The smaller feathers (down) can be burned off over an open flame. This stage is what truly marks the transition from live chicken to what one would recognize from the grocery store.
You now have a warm, headless, carcass that looks like a freshly plucked chicken. Uh yeah, exactly like a fresh plucked chicken. The unfortunate part is that the guts are still inside the chicken. This is the part that I was NOT looking forward to at all, AT ALL. Out comes the sharp knife again, to cut an incision from the rectum to under the beast bone. Prepare to be surprised HOW MUCH a chicken has in the way of guts, at least five times as much as a fish of that size! It was incredible; it just kept coming and coming, in all colours, shapes and sizes, and of a variety of slipperiness. I was glad when it was over, and happy that I decided to discontinue my childhood intention of becoming a Doctor.
And there you have it! Quarter it, de-bone it, de skin it, BBQ it, roast it, do whatever you want to it, it is now in a “usual grocery store” patron format. Does BBQ chicken taste better if you have processed it all from scratch? Definitely. Do I want to do it again? Not really. Am I glad I have the experience? Yes. Am I glad that Brys and Hugh have to do the next two? Yes again.
Next topic
“Ada tidak putih, tidak menis Roti disini?” (Is there any non white, non sweet bread here?) has so far always been met with either blank stares or the response “Tidak apa” (Not here). On board Khulula, we cannot live without bread, plain and simple.
Mmm, let’s see here. We can buy flour, we HAVE yeast, we have an oven, we have some baking know-how in the form of a certain Hubert Patterson… I KNOW, let’s bake fresh bread!! Two recipe’s later, we had still to yield a loaf of bread that did not sink and that did not risk breaking your molars in the consumption process. What were we doing WRONG? Laying the hits on momentum, culinary nature and adventurous spirit aside, we decided that we needed a SIMPLE, foolproof method of making bread on a sailboat. I am proud to say that we have found it, from a single handed sailor we encountered in Vanuatu. I bring you, our trusty blog readers, SALT WATER BREAD!
(this bread can be made on a stove top in a pressure cooker as well… imagine the potential… backcountry skiing?)
1 cup saltwater. Yup, straight out of the ocean. Clean ocean preferable. Don’t try and make bread in Indonesian harbours.
1 cup freshwater
½ cup sweetener (sugar, honey etc)
2 packs yeast
1kg flour
Dissolve the yeast in a small amount of 37C water. Let it sit and do it’s thang for a while. When it smells like beer and is all foamy it is ready to go. While waiting, mix up the water and the sugar. This should take about 10 sec. In the meantime I like to chop up grains and or nuts to soup up the basic ingredients. When the yeast is ready, toss ‘er in with the sugar/water mix and stir. Dump in all the flour and knead it all together, make sure you enjoy the therapy of this step. One note here, I have discovered that more flour is better that less AND that tossing it all in is way better that adding it piece by piece. The latter approach will yield a sticky, goopy mess that a) wont allow you to grab the flour container and add more and b) will result in you having the bowl semi permanently attached to your hands.
Knead, knead, knead…
Pat into the bowl and allow the yeast to do its magic. In this first rise, the mixture should double in size in an hour. If it doesn’t put it somewhere warmer. I have had one mixture that took two hours sitting in a black plastic bag in the sun and next to the generator exhaust before it doubles.
Beat it down, punch it down, give it a little knead and let it double again (yup, anther 45 min or so)
Beat down again, add it to pans, shape it into buns, top it with goodness and allow to rise into the bread pans (another 30min or so). If you are using a pressure cooker, this rise should take place in the cooker. This is the third and final rise. Preheat oven to 300F and cook for 45 minutes until the crust is brown and a tap on the crust yields a hollow sound. In a pressure cooker, use low heat for an hour, and viola, steaming fresh bread to eat with your fresh chicken!