Stewing in Our Juices

A big part of cruising is diet. And a big part of spartan cruising is a spartan diet. Cruising in the Med back in the ‘70s, we would often go a week or more dipping from the same pot of stew, just adding a bit more veggies and meat periodically. But on the minimalist scale, a group of Greek sponge divers had us beat. We fell in company with the friendly bunch aboard their one-cylinder boat in the Ionian Sea and traveled around with them for a week. During that time, the men ate only from a drum of stew that always sat on the deck over a small burner, always bubbling and emitting an . . . interesting. . . aroma. We tried a cup once and, well, Wolfgang had nothing to worry about. We always wondered what was in there.

One day, one of our crew speared a grouper and we invited the Greeks over for filets. After dinner, as they prepared to head back to their boat, our cook came outside with the remains of the cleaned fish and prepared to throw it overboard. The men started yelling "No, no!" then with big smiles and thanks accepted the head of the big fish. We watched as they rowed over, stepped aboard and threw it into the pot. After that, we politely declined offers of Greek stew.

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