Sailor & Galley: An Uplifting Breakfast

I heard a loud splash at the end of the dock just as I hit “brew” on the coffee maker.

It was 0630. We were docked stern-to on Poros Island, in Greece’s Saronic Gulf. I was in the galley aboard Stressbuster, our Atlantic 70 cutter, setting up for breakfast. All was silent behind the closed cabin doors. It appeared that our charter guests, two fun-loving Australian couples, were sleeping. 

I popped up the companionway to see what was up outside.

Nothing was up, but something large was down—and it was in the water heading toward our stern. I realized the shape was human before it hit me: It was one of our humans! Evidently, one guest had risen early and gone walkabout.

Swimming in busy yacht harbors in Greece is a no-go; our guests knew this. The stream of creative ­expletives from the easygoing Aussie in the drink confirmed my hunch: His morning swim had not been intentional. Also, he was fully clothed. 

My husband, Kostas, the ever-vigilant captain, materialized beside me. “Pete, you OK?” he asked, offering a hand as Pete climbed our swim ladder. 

“No. I mean, yeah, I’m fine, mate, but I’m a bloody idiot,” he fumed. “I was awake early, so I took a stroll. I was looking around instead of down and walked straight off the bloody dock. And I had this in my pocket,” he said, holding up a sodden wallet. He flung it down in disgust. 

“Never mind,” I told him as I ducked below for a beach towel. “We’ll dry it all out.” 

“Crikey, I’m bloody embarrassed,” he went on, shaking his head. I assured him no one else had seen—we were the only three people awake on the dock. As I balmed his bruised ego, I sent silent thanks skyward that no other part of him had been injured. 

While Pete rinsed off with the deck shower, I fast-walked to the bakery for extra bread. I had something in mind that was guaranteed to soothe his soul.

When I was growing up, my mother’s go-to remedy for anyone in a mood in the ­morning was caramelized cinnamon toast. The aroma alone launched us out of bed and to the table.

When I returned, he had followed my advice and spread the contents of the beleaguered wallet under the dodger to dry. His wet shirt dripped from the lifelines. He’d poured ­himself a coffee and sat on the sun bed, sipping morosely. “I guess I should wake everybody up for breakfast,” he said with a loud sigh. 

Crikey. The man was, as my mom used to say, in a mood.

“Relax,” I replied. “And leave it to me.” 

When I was growing up, my mother’s go-to remedy for anyone in a mood in the morning was caramelized cinnamon toast. It also worked to rouse dedicated ­sleepers. The aroma alone launched ​us out of bed and to the table. “Just what the doctor ordered,” she’d chirp as she put the platter in front of us. I’ve made her toast ever since, in a mood or not.

In the galley, I got to work. Minutes later, the heavenly scent of toasting butter and cinnamon filled the boat. I looked at my watch: 3, 2, 1…

Cabin doors flung open. The sleepers had launched. “What are you making?” they asked in full chorus, rubbing their eyes. “Oh, my God. It smells good!”

While everyone helped themselves to coffee and continental breakfast fare, I finished the toast and put the platter on the table.

As they ate, I heard yawns and “yums.” Then the group went silent. 

I glanced up. All eyes were on Pete’s wife, Olivia, who was poised over the toast, snapping photos. “Lynda, I’m posting everywhere about our American cook in Greece who makes this unbelievably brilliant cinnamon toast,” she said. “You’re going
to be famous in Oz.”

I laughed. Fame didn’t interest me, but Pete’s mood did.

“What do you think, Pete?” I asked. 

“I reckon this is the best bloody cinnamon toast I’ve ever eaten in my life,” he answered, lifting his coffee mug in my direction. “And this morning in particular, I’d say it’s justwhat the doctor ordered.”

He was grinning from ear to ear.

Caramelized Cinnamon Toast

• ¹/2 cup salted butter, plus 1-2 ­ tablespoons for pan 
• 1/3 cup white sugar
• 1 tablespoon cinnamon
• 8 slices bread
• 1 apple (optional)
• Sprig of fresh mint (optional)

Note: For large bread slices or more ­servings, double the recipe. Save extra sugar-cinnamon mix for future use. You can use any type of bread, but I prefer fresh. The texture is firmer, and it absorbs butter better. 

Use soft butter or soften stick butter until easily spreadable. In a small bowl, combine sugar and cinnamon. Mix thoroughly, then spread out evenly on a dinner plate. 

Spread softened butter over both sides of bread slices, then dredge each side in sugar-cinnamon mix. Set aside. 

Briefly preheat a large nonstick pan over low-medium heat. Add 1 tablespoon butter to the pan. As soon as butter melts, add bread slices, three or four at a time. Toast over low-medium heat for about 1 or 2 minutes per side, moving toast around in pan to absorb butter. Toast until sugar caramelizes and bread begins to brown, being careful not to let butter or sugar burn.

Serve warm on a large platter with optional garnishes of sliced apple and a sprig of mint. Dust platter with additional sugar-cinnamon mix.

Cook’s Notes: Using salted butter is critical to counteract the sweetness and get a slightly salty-sweet taste. White sugar is best for quick caramelizing. This is a great way to use day-old fresh bread.

Difficulty: easy
Prep time: 15-20 minutes
Can be made: at anchor or underway

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