The Big Chill: Sailing Adventure & Comfort Food

Our Atlantic 70 cutter, Stressbuster, had just arrived in Paroikia, Paros, in Greece’s Cyclades Islands. My husband, Kostas, and I, along with five charter guests, had spent the previous two weeks island-hopping across the Aegean Sea from our base near Athens. The October weather was sublime: The Greeks call it “little summer.” It was a perfect end to the season.

This was our last charter of the year, and our guests would disembark here. Having said our goodbyes, we decided to take a lay day to clean the boat, reprovision, and visit with friends on Paros. Wind and weather in October can be erratic, so we’d allowed a week or more to deliver the boat lazily back to our dock in Salamina instead of doing a straight 100-mile shot. 

During the night, the wind picked up. By daylight, it was partly cloudy. The temperature had dropped considerably. We checked the updated forecast for the next days: winds increasing in strength from 25 knots to 30, then 35, with higher gusts possible, and seas 6 to 9 feet. 

Situated smack in the middle of the Aegean, the Cyclades are surrounded by open sea. Distances between islands are not short, and seas between them can build in a surprisingly short time. 

Our dock, on the outer pier at Paroikia’s public marina, was becoming uncomfortable. Along with a couple of other yachts, we arranged with the harbormaster to move to an inside space.

By the second morning, we had a steady 30-knot wind, north-northeast, with higher gusts. Beyond the harbor, seas were building. Out in the anchorage, there was a nasty chop. 

As the wind rose, the temperature dropped further. Lazing abovedecks was out of the question. That afternoon, a couple of stray bareboats limped in seeking shelter, their headsails shredded. 

We and other sailors wore heavy jackets for walks ashore. In town, late-season tourists in shorts and T-shirts scoured local shops for warm clothing. Freestanding taverna menu boards and trash bins did cartwheels. 

Late summer had suddenly become early winter. The Old Town was nearly deserted. Locals, wisely, stayed home. 

Later that day, forecasts began mentioning an omega block phenomenon. After 25 years of sailing the islands and studying Greek weather forecasts, I’d never heard of it, but I had learned one thing: When Greek meteorologists use the word “phenomenon,” pay attention. 

Conveniently, I had a Greek captain with a lifetime of ­experience sitting next to me.

“What’s an omega block?” I asked Kostas, scrolling through the forecast details. 

“A what?” he asked. 

An online search told us that an omega block is caused by disturbances in the jet stream. The omega block stops the normal progression of weather systems, sandwiching a high-pressure area ­between two low-pressure areas. On weather maps, the shape of the jet stream resembles the ­upper-case Greek letter ­omega: Ω. 

On the low-pressure sides, there is rain. In the squeezed high-pressure middle, the prevalent weather is fair, though sometimes cool and windy. Omega blocks can ­remain stationary for days. 

We were in the lower end of the high-pressure area, and we now know this: When you’re stuck in an omega block, the weather repeats itself daily like an annoying broken record. Down below on the boat, it was chilly. Our hatch faced north, so cold air wafted in. Wearing fleece and sweat pants, we hunkered down, worked a bit, read, and relaxed. Occasionally, other charter crew stopped by for coffee and to commiserate.

As dinnertime approached one night, I realized that my appetite had also switched seasons. Suddenly and desperately, I craved a heaping hot bowl of spicy homemade chili topped with gooey cheese—winter comfort food. 

We had everything we needed aboard except ground beef. We did have half a roasted chicken tucked in the fridge, a leftover from the previous night’s dinner that was earmarked for soup. Roasted-chicken chili? Getting beef meant a cold, windy walk to the supermarket. The chicken was ready to deploy.

An hour later, with the delicious aroma of slow-­simmered chili permeating and warming the cabin, we set the salon table, lit a battery-­operated candle (the illusion of warmth would do), and dug in. Soon, the hot meal and spices worked their magic. We were warm, content and, with full bellies, growing sleepy. 

The boat was secure. A cozy bunk and good books awaited. On a day when “little ­summer” had turned into “the big chill,” it was a perfect ­ending. Tomorrow was ­another day. 

Easy Roasted-Chicken Chili (serves 2)

• ¼ cup olive oil
• 1  medium onion, diced
• 2-3  garlic cloves, peeled and minced
• 1 12-ounce can chopped tomatoes
• 1 12-ounce can kidney beans (or black beans) 
• 1 7-ounce can Old El Paso Chopped Green Chiles
• 1 cube chicken bouillon 
• 1  tsp. chili powder
• ¼  tsp. ground cumin
• ¼ tsp. ground coriander
• red chili flakes, pinch (optional)
• salt and pepper, to taste*
• 3  cups cooked chicken breast meat, shredded 
• shredded cheddar, Gouda or Monterey Jack cheese, to taste
• chopped coriander, chives or green onions to garnish (optional)

* Bouillon may contain salt, so taste before adding more.

Add olive oil to a large stew pot over ­medium heat. Add onion. Sauté until onion begins to soften. Add garlic, sauté for about 1 minute. Add tomatoes, beans and green chiles, along with can juices. Add bouillon cube, chili powder, cumin and coriander. Stir. Simmer a few minutes to let flavors blend. Add salt and pepper to taste. 

Stir again, bring to a simmer, and then ­reduce heat to low or medium-low. ­Slow-simmer, partially covered, for about 30 minutes or until chili begins to thicken and flavors blend. If it gets too thick, add a splash of water. 

While it cooks: With your hands, shred chicken breast into bite-size chunks. Add to pot, stir, and simmer 10 to 15 minutes more. 

To serve, ladle hot chili into bowls. Top with shredded cheese and garnish if desired. 

Cook’s Note: If you don’t have leftover ­roasted chicken, then place a boneless chicken breast in a large, deep sauté pan with a lid. Add water to cover chicken. Poach for 10 to 15 minutes or until internal temperature reads 165 degrees ­Fahrenheit. Cool slightly before shredding. Add to ­simmering chili as above. 

Prep time: 1 hour
Difficulty: easy
Can be made: at anchor

Editor’s note: Got a favorite boat meal you’d like to share? Email us at editor@cruisingworld.com.

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