As we move further and further south, it's becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on the dramatic coastline views. It's more and more apparent that the kitchen staff's main job is to addle and confuse us with a dizzying array of food. It has become an all-encompassing quest to eat as often and well as possible.
There are several options that we have learned to take advantage of. First there is 'The Restaurant" which is the large formal dining room, and your every wish is granted in five minutes, delivered by chatty smiling Matt Damon look-a-likes who remember your name and use it every five minutes. The menu changes daily and almost brings one to tears to have to choose between the fabulous offerings. This boat is known for the copious amounts of long, thin, crunchy-salty melt in your mouth breadsticks always present on the table with flavored spicy, herby, silky butters. Later this week, there is actually a cooking lesson on how to make them at home. Home??? Home??? What's that?? Oh, right--that blah blah place where we get our hands wet washing dishes and make food on a stove for ourselves and the extremely young short people that hover around us while we're there.
Another choice besides 'Chocaholic's afternoon tea' in the Constellation Lounge, Barbeque on the top deck Sky Grill (where they have huge bowls of bright green guacamole, a huge pile of which I chose to have for lunch one day), and constant room service, which has included such memorable combinations as caviar, ham sandwich and 4 pots of hot chocolate.
A favorite choice of ours is '2' Restaurant which is always more casual and usually has a tasting menu of about twelve or twenty items. Also, you can sit outside and watch the mountains and mist pass by. Lovely. Here is one menu:
Crispy foie gras with port wine splash. It was served in shot glass and had little bursting hot pink pomegranate seeds. The frozen foie gras was flash fried and just exploded in your mouth.
Next course: lobster roll with caviar sauce, bacalaito fritter with avocado and tomato salad, seared panela salmon, white bean salsa, piquillo coulis.
Next course, shiraz braised oxtail presse, manchego potstickers and white asparagus vanilla cappuchino, and mushroom toast.
Next course, drunken turbot, porcini and swiss chard, hazelnut vinaigrette paired with tuscany braised veal and mascarpone mashed potato.
Next course: limoncello tiramisu foam (can barely remember that we're actually eating by this point) and marinated oranges
dark chocolate ganache, espresso citrus panna cotta. condensed milk ice cream and kahlua frappe.
We did it. We ate all that. And then we went to a bar to congratulate ourselves for the valiant effort we put forth.
Today, we're at sea. Noon found Jeri, Jim and I down in "The Restaurant". Us ladies, and I use the term loosely, were escorted on the arm of a tux clad waiter again, which seems completely unnecessary as I am wearing a nike gym suit. Jeri had eleven glasses of iced tea and an enormous burger, cream of peach soup and strawberry ice cream, and I had an avocado spring roll, fillet of bass on a bed of spring peas and four other things I can't remember. Oh yes, now it comes to me: a diet portion of peach strudel with ice cream. I think the point is moot there, but you have to pull back at some point. Jim ordered a cheeseburger topped with a fried egg, bacon and a plethora of other items, cream of kohlrabi soup and a giant chocolate chip shake. He is mystified that his pants seem to be slightly tighter and actually had the audacity to think that they may have shrunk in the dryer from last night's laundry service. Jeri and I have assured him however, that in anticipation of his every need, Rita, our valet, has noticed how sleek and seal-like he is and had his pants taken in accordingly. We figure she's taken the liberty of doing this to his entire wardrobe.
Tonight the four of us are invited to sit with the purser and his wife. We tried to turn down the invitation as it's black tie evening and all of us are feeling a little like hiding in our rooms after last night's debacle. But they strongly suggested that we do it. They said they put together a table of 'young people' for us and that we would enjoy it. We're pretty sure there's a conspiracy underway to keep us away from our more respectable cruisemates and introduce us to someone who can keep a close eye on our loudly laughing, raucous, hard gambling, fast living quartet.
Chiloe Island (Chee-low-way) is a remote fishing island off the coast of Chile boasting daily rain and gray skies. I boarded a tender and decided to take a little look see since not many visitors ever make the trip. The tourist dollars come from only four boats per year and honestly, they didn't really have a super handle on making visitors feel welcome so that's probably for the greater good. Initially Spanish, Chile moved in and after three attempts to take Chiloe by force, successfully screamed "This place is ours" and I get the feeling they islanders are still holding a grudge. Boy, were they glad to see me! I may as well have had four heads as I walked down a very quiet seaside street following a scowling fisherman dragging two of the biggest salmon I've ever seen down the street by their gills. Appetizing! The islanders apparently hate the sun as it doesn't mesh with their lives so happily geared to the cold and wet. Many of the small brightly colored homes are built on stilts right in the sea(strange as there's land on the other side of the street) welcoming the tide and the fisherman back home. Chiloe is famous for these stilt houses and they're an interesting and curiously colorful addition of which they're seriously proud. The island smells strongly of fish, pine and woodsmoke as this is the only way the people heat their homes and every house has a tiny chimney with wafting smoke. Potatoes, salmon and mussels are the way folks make a buck here; largely the people seem very poor and although scowling, generally amiable with each other and very happy to sit around discussing large dirty fish. The local church resembles something made out of matchsticks and was quaint and calm and busy with the villagers who are very Catholic and very religious. All of Chile is Catholic and shrines and statues are plentiful. The statue above was particularly interesting to me because baby Jesus was wearing an actual little baby boy knit outfit. I thought it was very touching and some mamacita probably worried that he would get cold. Many of the statues here are wearing real clothes, lending a truly surreal touch to the already faintly creepy wooden halls.
