Karla.

I am stuck. In more ways than one. Stuck in general due to I was suppose to fly out thursday and it was cancelled by the airline—weather maybe but there are so many other factors at play right now. On wednesday the group email told of the cancellation and then stated that we (crew) would be flown over to Halifax at some point and then be put into a hotel for fourteen days of isolation before going to sea for five weeks work. So it goes in this strange time. So, I ponder and wonder and came back to trying to finish a few written things that have back burnered for too long.

Close to a year now, this has bounced around in my head and over the course of a few attempts I will stab at it again, try to get something down. It is about the Chinese ship. Last year I went on a Chinese seismic ship for six weeks. While I have via email written about the trials and tribulations of six weeks on a ship it was mostly ranting about fellow Canadian crew, and the difficulties of working with another crew , the Chinese where language was definitely a barrier. If anyone remembers the Chinese crew were very nice to work with and most trouble came from one fellow Canadian who on day one stated bluntly to me `Ya know, I am not racist, I just don't like foreigners`. So on that note six weeks of utter mayhem began but each day with head down, I worked through it and told that tale.

As I removed myself once ashore, from that long, arduous working hitch I began then to reflect on the actual work, the cooking. I remember the first day aboard and walking int the galley. Two Chinese cooks, busily working away. My eyes flittered quickly around the galley watching the action as the big boss tried to explain what our jobs should be like. I noticed a galley unlike any I had worked in on previous hitches and ships. One cook was working a giant electric wok, quickly stir frying a larger batch of cut up meat (at the time I did not know it was beef stomach) and then ladling it out, scooping the oil into a tin and quickly hitting the wok with water. Swishing it around with a large bamboo scrubby. Draining it and he was ready to begin again. I would say this took about 5 to 8 minutes!

The other cook quickly checked a giant steamer and as I peeked in there were trays of steaming buns but he quickly closed it as they were not ready. The steamer leaked and the ceiling dripped continuously. He then moved over to a square tilt skillet and unknown to me thinking it was off he dashed in a liberal squirt of oil and then dumped in a four inch deep long pan of chopped celery and onion. At once the skillet sang out with a fantastic song of oil and water and his quick movements with both hands using two metal Chinese spatulas tossing the vegetables through the heat, as if conducting.

Then with a few side steps to a holding tray he dropped in what he quickly measured as the required amounts of various seasonings and sauces and after a quick toss about, he loaded the finish product into the same pan, walked out into the mess, inserted it in the hot line and then back to the galley. Turning the skillet off he then dumped in a large waiting bowl of water and in a few minutes had the skillet completely cleaned and ready to begin meal number two. Amazing. It was a style of galley cookery unknown to me. I was in for a treat!

Within a few shifts it became apparent that this was the Chinese cooks galley. We were there to cook for the Canadian crew as a three meal a day of Chinese food was—as reported from the last hitch—a bit too much. We had to quickly figure out a game plan and suffice it to say my co worker made it abundantly clear from day one how our shifts would go. She would not work alone with the Chinese and gave no hint at wanting to work with a different galley and many unusual foodstuffs. So we had to devise a plan to cook three times a day, and also a hot night meal for the three or four Canadians working the late shift.

On day one at 430am I began figuring out the galley and what I could use in the way of equipment in order to begin Canadian breakfast. With hand signs and verbal jousting (later a translate app would come in handy!) I learned that I was allowed to use the large tilt skillet as the base for my breakfast work. The Chinese cooks would rotate daily who did breakfast Chinese style and were quite accommodating as they would use the steamer and the wok while I used the big old cranky oven and the tilt skillet. So It began.

I quickly dropped into a morning routine as the skillet was something we had on our ships and in many large hotels that I had worked with so it became easy to use for breakfast. The key as day one went on was that once breakfast was completed and the galley washed down the Chinese cook went back to his bunk for a nap. They would do this every day of the hitch as I learned they worked a very different shift, something that I had never encountered before. They would break up the day, switching each day into four small shifts with each cook coming back at 1130pm to cook the night meal for the larger Chinese crew working through the night.

We saw that from 830am onward we had the galley to ourselves and this it seemed was the time to get a lot of prep completed before both Chinese cooks came back. The key was that they would required all appliances from an hour before service right up until one maybe two minutes before ! This was the style of the quick stir frying in both the giant wok and tilt skillet minutes before service. Leading up to this they would prep, prep, prep, for the day's meals. Coupled with this they would make various type of noodles and buns from scratch using up all the counter space and we would have to work around this in very tight quarters. The giant old leaky steamer would then be on for most of the day. Drip, drip, drip.

This was the basic routine that after my initial shock I became use to as I had to develop my own routine, fitting in where I could, using what I could from food to appliances. Rooting through freezers and cupboards. The Chinese cooks, having their own usual routine saw that this was a challenge and helped out greatly. The routine became easy for me,not so much for my co-worker. I will not belabour that point as it has been mentioned before and I want to focus on the food and cooking.

As the first week came to a close I noted the routine of the Chinese cooks and was keen to understand their actual methods. Firstly they used the cleaver for everything and while I was use to this having taught myself the benefits of the cleaver over the classic chef knife it was a great treat to watch what I thought of at that moment as experts doing it.. From, cracking large chunks of frozen meat right out of the freezer into the smallest cuts of bone in meat, to slicing potatoes, celery, onions and a multitude of other vegetables into even julienne matchstick piles.

Each day one of the second cook's jobs was to prepare an battered enamel bowl of what I learned was the base for almost all their cooking; chilies, scallions, garlic and ginger. This bowl would be used every single meal.

After week one I began to push myself closer to their cooking and began in sign language to ask questions about the giant wok, steamer, skillet, cleaver techniques and a host of other queries that they found both amusing and confusing as they tried to figure out what exactly I was asking. It became a daily routine but they saw the real interest and by week two, I was allowed to help out , initially by cleaning the giant wok! Trust, I had earned it and now I could attempt to get involved with their style of `Chinese` cooking.

And there is an interesting point. For the first week all of us Canadians were enthralled by the beautiful hot, steaming Chinese food dished out three times a day (most of us never saw what they did at 1130pm). It was similar in some respects to what we eat at Canadian/Chinese restaurants as along side would be Canadian staples that we had to cook; pork chops, steaks, hamburgers, mash potatoes, gravy, steamed and/or sauteed vegetables for example.

But here in lies the rub. While many of the dishes looked great and many Canadians vocalized that they were eating healthy due to the small amounts of meat and the abundance of vegetables. They opined regularly that we should do stuff like that. I countered why you have pros here, eat up. The problem was like in many culinary locations the eaters never see the preparation.

The Chinese food looked great, tasted great, but if a Canadian asked me about a specific dish I would have to tell them that yes that was meat in there with the sweet and sour nappa cabbage and onion. What kind, oh beef stomach. The deep fried golden nuggets mixed in with the rice, pork yes, beautiful pork feet. So eventually the Canadians would be swayed by these choices back to the Canadian side of the mess line!

Secondly the majority of the dishes they would make were loaded down with a few key condiments that were basically salt upon salt. From, soy sauce to black bean sauce, each dish would be covered in salt y condiments of one kind or another. I have not mentioned the oil either. So many of the dishes were cooked in large quantities of oil.

While our meat and potatoes approach was what we were hired to cook for the most part, (as this was a Chinese crewed vessel that just happened to be in Canadian waters, with token Canadian crew on board) it was often considered stodgy and the usual. There would always be crew that would only eat `Canadian` food , and after a week of the Chinese delights this became apparent.

Having said that what I found interesting at this point was that just like us, many of the Chinese would attempt to eat Canadian food but they found it quite difficult. They were used to eating small portions and it would be funny to see a guy going with his bowl, based with rice, and a few scoops of the various small Chinese foods and then on top a large pork chop or chicken leg! There was one guy, a bosun who decided it was easier to use a metal tray with small compartments. That way he could carry everything to the table.

Back in the galley I began to notice another interesting trend. While I was fascinated with the use of cleavers I noticed that once the Chinese cooks saw me working a paring knife for certain tasks the began to ask if they could try them out. Eventually after week two I would have to hunt down my knives on a regular basis. It got to the point that I would use the cleaver while the older Chinese cook use my small paring knife each day for many tasks.

Around week four I was able now to use the various appliances as I saw fit for preparing our food. I had `apprenticed enough to illustrate to the Chinese cooks that I knew my way around a galley and as I showed interest they dropped their culinary guard and let me have a go but still the time frame would be the important factor. One day I pulled chicken wings from the freezer and showed that I wanted to do them in the giant wok `Canadian style`.

They both shook their heads no when I tried to show them my method. The head cook, who by now had become known as cookie Ming (three Mings on board), showed me that they had `chicken wing` on the menu already. I bowed to their wisdom and proceeded to prepare something else. A little bit later as I was getting a coffee one of the Canadians asked what was for lunch. I told him well, the usual Chinese fare; stir fires, deep fry, buns and rice and broth. I then mentioned that as well there would be chicken wings. His eyes lit up and he bellowed out `alright wing night`! It quickly spread among the Canadians as this was near break time. A few then would ask in passing if there would be fries with that as they had not had fries since we began. The reason being there was no fryer and the Chinese did not do fries.

As meal time approached I was busy getting my own fare ready and as I worked I listened to the familiar thump, thump, of Ming's cleaver on the butcher block he would haul out when ever frozen product needed a heavy hand. I really paid little attention as we were all busy getting the meal ready. With about 15 minutes to meal time it was game on and we all chipped in as Ming and Bao, the second cook began their production. We had already had ours hot and ready as was the usual because they needed most of the appliances in the last half hour before service.

We began the routine of setting the line , filling the slots with inserts of hot food and all the side dishes and Ming was now down to one or two items, one of which was the chicken wings. I then became his assistant for the last meal, the wings and then I noticed something quite different. The wings had been cut into small tiny portions. This had been the hour long thump, thump earlier. The wings were now dropped into the giant wok and they were done in no time. I took the insert to the line and as was the usual way, grabbed a few for myself to eat in the galley.

Ouch was my response on the first bite. The tiny orts of wings were now tasty, small, sharp, and very hot mouth destroyers. Unaccustomed to these sharp bits, I ended up with about five small stab wounds in my mouth from all the chicken shards that stuck out from these `wings`. I ventured out to the mess to see the reaction of the crew. The Chinese crew circled the mess line taking portions of everything and dropping them into their bowls. The Canadians looking about asked repeatedly `where were the wings`?

I pointed to the small mouth torturers in one of the inserts. Faces began to slope down, then the complaint about no fries murmured across the tables. The Canadians were not happy campers at this point.

At this point Ming came over, smiling and pointed at the wings and said `good wings`! I nodded yes they were good. It would not be until the last week that I was able to show them how we did wings and fries. They would by then have confidence in me and allow me to use the giant wok. I would make the Canadians happy for one meal. As the saying goes at sea, `you are only as good as your last meal`!