Streaky Bay - End of the Seafood Trail

 

We went out to dinner last night. It's not something we do often. We were celebrating just being here, being together, living the good life and also the fact we sold our first article to Cruising Helmsman, Australia's premiere cruising magazine. The dinner probably cost more than the magazine will pay for the article, but let's not get mired in the details.

The Eyre Peninsula is home to the largest commercial fishing fleet in the Southern Hemisphere. The waters here are rich with wonderful fish and seafood: oysters, abalone, prawns (shrimp), rock lobster, salmon, tuna. We've been hearing about Venus Bay prawns, Streaky Bay oysters, King George whiting, Kinkawooka mussels, nannigai (which we thought was Nanny Grey...hmm), and Murray cod. Of course, we've been catching our own blue swimmer crabs which are delish, but we thought we might like to try something that someone else had caught … and prepared.

There's an established Seafood Trail on the Eyre Peninsula and, if we had a car, we might be tempted to drive it and sample the epicurean delights along the way. The trail starts in Whyalla and ends in Streaky Bay, but for our purposes, the trail starts AND ends in Streaky Bay … at the Mocean Cafe (pronounced motion … M-ocean). We might not eat out often, but when we do, we try to find a place that offers interesting menus and makes use of local ingredients.

“Mocean specialises in creative regional seafood with native flavours, using Australian bush herbs & spices to enhance the local bounty from the sea. One of few Australian restaurants to offer abalone year round, Mocean explores the use of by-catch seafood such as the signature sea salt & native pepper stingray.” How can you pass this up?

Mocean came highly recommended by many of our fellow cruisers and it certainly deserves the praise. We loved it. It's right on the waterfront and we had a table outside on the porch overlooking the bay with a good view of Nine of Cups and the jetty. It was a romantic setting. The only other guests on the porch with us were a couple of cheeky locals who insisted on watching us eat.

Margii, one of the owners, offered suggestions, explained the evening's specials and took our order. She was attentive without being intrusive … a true art. She was aware we were from a yacht and midst courses, asked questions about sailing. Another server, Jenny, stopped by to say hello as well. In a small town … news travels fast OR we looked like boat people?

We shared a starter of marinated King George Whiting served with a mustard sour cream and fresh rocket on crostini. We could have stopped right there and just ordered more appetizers, because the fish was melt-in-your-mouth wonderful.

We also shared a saltbush macadamia dukkah. It's not fish, but we were just introduced to it here in Australia and loved it. Dukkah (pronounced doo-kah) is an Egyptian blend of herbs, seeds, nuts and spices and is served with fresh bread, extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. You break off a chunk of bread, dip it in the oil and vinegar and then dip in the dukkah. It was perfect with a crisp white pinot gris and the King George Whiting.

David ordered a whole baked nannigai as his main which was a special for the evening. It looks and tastes like red snapper and was served on baby new potatoes and stuffed with lemons and an accompaniment of black and green olives. My taste verified it was definitely acceptable.

As for me, I ordered seafood marinara. It was outstanding, chock full of local fish, mussels, prawns, squid and scallops in a tomato-saffron based sauce served on fettucine with fresh basil and shaved parmesan topping. Manna of the gods. I was in heaven.

We watched the sun set. The tiniest bit of crescent moon had risen and it became cool and windier. Margii moved us to an inside table, so we could enjoy the rest of our meal. Most all the tables were full and people seemed to be enjoying themselves in a comfortable setting, the delectable smells of different dishes permeating the room.

No room for dessert. We dragged the dinghy back into the bay, feet all sandy and cold from the sea water. A short, cold dink ride and we were back aboard Cups, warming up with a brandy and savoring the evening. I'm glad we don't do this often; it wouldn't be as special.

We've Got Crabs

 

I mentioned on FB the other day that David came home with a crab net. We had dinner with some folks who mentioned how good local blue swimmers were. “Hmm … what's a blue swimmer?” and we learned that they were the local blue crabs, so of course, our interest was piqued. Hence, the new crab net.

I checked on line with the South Australia fisheries to see if we needed a license and we didn't. We asked Kim, a local whose boat is across the dock from us, more about catching blue crabs locally. “Where's a good spot?”, we queried, hoping he might share a tidbit. “Off the end of your boat, I reckon”, he responded. Really? Here in the marina? Evidently yes! Wow … how easy is that?

So after coming home with a crab net one day, David returned from the local chandlery the next day with a bag of frozen fish heads. We weren't really ready to start crabbing yet actually, but when the compressor on the fridge went and those fish heads started thawing, it provided some incentive to begin the crabbing experience immediately.

David stuck some fish heads in a net bag, tied it to the crab net and we lowered it off the end of the dock next to the boat. Sure enough … a blue crab (and they definitely are blue) came a'calling within an hour or so. Then another ... and I got a kettle of water boiling. I looked up cooking instructions on line … not much different than cooking lobster. I sincerely apologized to them when I put them in the pot. They turned immediately from blue to red. We researched how to clean them … no mallets involved like we used to use when we ate them in the Chesapeake. It's simple, painless (unless a crab gets you with his sharp, pointy pincer) and the crab meat is as sweet as can be. Oooooh, la, la.

We did see a few crabs swimming away from our net every once in awhile. Locals Dwayne and Kelly came for dinner one night and we asked a few more questions. “Is there a better bait, like chicken skin or necks?”, we wanted to know. “It's illegal to use chicken or beef as bait in South Australia”, Dwayne told us, “… fish heads are the usual. Place them so they're in the middle of the net, not near the outside edge. The crabs will eat from outside of the net if they can reach the bait.” (tricky crabs, huh?). Aha, David had tied the very aromatic fish head sachet to the side of the net and immediately made the adjustment. Sure enough we had enough crabs for dinner again last night.

Life is good … despite the hiccups.

In the Galley - Preserve Today...Eat Tomorrow

 

They call it preserving here. We call it canning or can processing in the States. I'm not sure why it's called canning when you put the preserved food into glass jars, but who cares? I only know that canning is a way of life on the boat that allows me to have lots of extra already-cooked food aboard that lasts a long time, without too much hassle and without refrigeration. I've talked about it before.

I had just done an inventory of our preserved chicken and ground turkey (mince) and found we were woefully low. We had Tasmanian apples and blackberries left, but not much else. Theoretically, home-canned goods, if preserved properly, will last for well over a year or two, but ours have never lasted that long - we eat them long before their “eat-by” dates. Since I've been back, it's been easier to grab a jar of canned chicken and use it for chicken salad sandwiches or in chile or with pasta sauce on spaghetti, than making an hour long round-trip run to the local grocery to buy something else for dinner.

When I saw the sign in Farmer Joe's for boneless, skinless chicken breasts for $8.99/kg (~$4/lb), I jumped at the chance to replenish the stock. I asked for 10kg (22 lbs). When the clerk indicated that a whole case was 12 kg and asked if I was interested in the whole thing, I asked if I could get a discount. One of the things about being a cruiser, we're thrifty and we're not shy. She consulted the manager and sure enough, I got my chicken for $8.50/kg. The 25 lb box'o'chicken was not very portable, but the clerk thankfully divided it up into three large, double-wrapped plastic parcels which fit neatly into my newly purchased trolley cart. Nothing else fit, but I was definitely chicken-rich and I headed back on the train to the boat.

Once back aboard, I dug out the pressure cooker and fired it up. I got all my jars and lids washed and proceeded to jar and process all the chicken. I use the raw method, so no cooking or prep required for the chicken other than cutting it up into chunks that fit easily into the jars. In no time at all, I had 24 jars of all white meat chicken breast, cooked and waiting for me to use during our upcoming passage. Along with the fish we expect to catch, we'll have enough to last for several months.