•Dimitriov (Diminutive name Dima): Biologist. The youngest member of the team—twenty-three, I think, Tall and lanky. Fresh-faced and very sweet. Speaks some English.
•Valorah: Ecologist. Quiet and gentle looking. Seems kind of vulnerable, as if he isn’t sure what his role is now that we’re here, but I could have it all wrong.
•Ilya: Meteorologist. My age. Dark and good-looking with a slow smile. Lives with Satellite Vlad. Think Carol has a crush on him. Speaks a little English.
•Yuri: Glaciologist with good tan. Flying out soon.
•Maxim: Glaciologist. Fifth time at Bellingshausen; has overwintered fourteen times. Second field camp. Flying out soon. Speaks pretty good English. Has a nineteen-year-old son and a fifteen-year-old stuffed mouse Olga, named after his wife.
DECEMBER 19, 1995
CDDead seal pup; seals moulting, sleeping and scratching; moss; lichen; rocks changing shape and size; icebergs, one looking like a seal, one a whale fin. Bio Vlad told a story of fur seals he worries about. The ice cliffs were up to nine metres high because of the late spring and he was concerned many fur seals would die because they couldn’t get up to migrate, but they did.
At 2:00 we visited the Chilean base, Frei. Lena, Wendy, Doc. Zuniga, the base commander, is a military type. Big, tough-looking, but he didn’t intimidate me. I felt we gave a good introduction, explaining who we were, that it was a joint project with the Russians and that we were going to start a cleanup project. I said we are not extremists, we want to learn and to help. This is good he said, since there are problems everywhere.
We had a killer drink, pisco sour, and I got a big buzz since I’ve eaten little in five days. Wendy scored the recipe.
Zuniga invited us for lunch tomorrow. Also to an air force party in the gym on December 22 for the flyover of Santa Claus.
Sergey told me the boys are changing their shirts for us. He’d seen them in the same thing for nine months and “now it is a fashion show.” Sergey was tired of the guys asking him what they can do for us. He said, “They’ve gone a bit nuts over you,” but he and Lena agreed this is okay because having us at the station is positive, it’s a motivator, it makes them think of their women—their wives, kids, mothers. He’s a sensitive, if maladroit, chief. He’s sick now. I’ve given everyone my cold.
The guys know each step we take. They are very disciplined, odd, hierarchical.
I finally found time to read the Ursula Le Guin story from The New Yorker (1982) I brought, “Sur: A Summary Report of the Yelcho Expedition to the Antarctic.” It’s awesome. Sur is the fictional story of eight South American women (all crew, no officers) who travel to the South Pole, arriving one year before Norwegian Amundsen did in 1911, making them the first humans to reach it, but they refuse to publish their journals.
The narrator is angry with the mess in Captain Robert Falcon Scott’s base camp, the spilled biscuits and tins lying around and says, “Housekeeping, the art of the infinite, is no game for amateurs.” She loses her toes at the Pole and is happy she leaves no footprints.
WTMore typical King George weather. Cloud. Wind. Way too tired to write much.
Home from hike to the Drake and Flat Top in time to load the lorry for Canada House. Man, I love their Queen’s English, especially Aerology Sasha’s—“lorry” describes that dependable old beater perfectly. Six helpers made for short work and all of them tried to teach me Russian: Ilya, Hilltop Sasha, Doc Sasha, Vassiliy, Biologist Vladimir and Sasha Radio. Break for lunch, yummy soup. Discover a feather in my hat. Vassiliy confesses. We communicate partly in English, partly in Spanish and the few Russian words I’ve learned. Can’t believe these guys and their generosity. At dinner Bio Vlad gave me flash cards he made and a Lenin pin. Pins from Doc Sasha as well. This must be what it’s like to be one of the popular girls in class.
My kitchen is shaping up. Sergey gave me a massive pot to heat water, enamel basins to make a triple sink, buckets for recycling, and I stacked some of the wonky veneer cabinets for storage. Fridge and stove arrive tomorrow. Was working tonight when Maxim dropped by with chocolate, Jim Beam and a Moscow Times mug. The chocolate was delicious, but I passed on the mug of whiskey. Happy I did, as I’m conscious of the scandal it could create.
He was good company as I set up my pantry. We got into a conversation about how to distill vodka when I told him my plan to collect recipes from all the bases. I asked him if he knew of any edible wilds on the island and got a recipe for the cookbook: sea cabbage salad made with laminaria (fresh kelp). Maxim also thought of a recipe from the glaciology camp: caipirinhas made with whiskey and lemon instead of cachaça and lime. Love the way he wrote it—he is specific about the brands: Jim Beam or Ballantine’s. No doubt he knows his recipe is more whiskey sour than caipirinha, but I guess mixology rules are flexible when stores run low. Soothes the Brazilians as well.
Got to sleep now.
DECEMBER 20, 1995
CDWe headed down the hill at eleven o’clock to get ready for our special luncheon with the Chileans. When I stepped outside Canada House I saw two Brazilians from the Glacier camp. Also Roberto, the Uruguayan doctor and Doc Sasha: my international neighbours, standing on the black rocky beach on Maxwell Bay, chatting about Antarctica in the sun. I joined them. I love this job.
Lunch at Villa Las Estrellas, Habitacion 51. We went into a special room and were offered a pisco sour (again). It was a pleasant room. I sat beside Commandante Zuniga. We had good chats in Spanish. Then fourteen of us moved to a dining table with a beige tablecloth. I chose to sit beside the Commandante. We discussed Tibet. I told him about the book I wrote about Tibetan women in the independence struggle. Zuniga said you can’t write about something of which you are not a part. I disagreed, and agreed.
Vadim launching the daily balloon from the aerology lab, Bellingshausen, 1996
{Wendy Trusler}
Someone apparently praised Pinochet. Did I hear that right? The guy at the table across from me caught my eye—as if we agreed Pinochet was a murderer.
We started lunch: fresh artichoke dipped in mayonnaise with lemon. Delicious.
Then a meat soup from which I ate a potato and piece of squash. Thank God I’m the only vegetarian so it’s not a bigger hassle for the cooks. White Chilean wine, herbal tea from the Andes (fashionable in Chile I’m told), and a sliced orange.
Doc toasted, “To new friends and new ideas.”
Zuniga said, “Thank you,” and raised his glass.
On the walk home we tried to talk Doc into being Santa Claus. He won’t do it; he doesn’t feel right about it. He’s a beautiful person. I want to give him a present.
The Russian guys partied today while we were out.
Lena and I had an excellent conversation tonight. She knows so much about Antarctica. She’s a very cool woman. I was worried she’d be in an awkward position as go-between but she’s a pro. We get on well, I think. I wanted to find out how she perceived our presence. Lena said all she hopes is we clean the beach and take out some garbage. What we can do is minimal. She said a proper beach cleanup could take us the whole season. I am ambitious but I appreciate that our goals must be realistic. She said she cleaned a 4 × 4 m piece of beach for an entire month. As far as she is concerned, where we are is not Antarctica—it is too crowded, too full of tourists, so highly altered.
I tried to persuade her we shouldn’t give up on it.
Money for cleaning up, she emphasizes, is key, and the Madrid Protocol.
The bay was still and beautifully purple-hued tonight as we walked down the hill at 11:00 p.m. There was a blue slit of sky, a brown rock shining in the calm violet-navy water and lumpy shaded icebergs.
WTNap time, but day so full of events I want to record them now. Volodya Cook made bread after breakfast. Think I got some decent black and white shots of him at work. He is definitely of the pitch-and-toss school of cooking—he had the dough thrown together and rising in no time. Had to watch his gestures carefully to follow the recipe.
Confirmed the ratios with him afterwards. Don’t think I’ll be making the version calling for 100 cups of flour soon. Later, when he was pulling the loaves from the oven, he showed me a trick to protect the bread from drafts as it cools—place a tea towel overtop. Volodya says (or at least Lena says he says) a damp cloth draped over the crust of day-old bread will keep it moist.
At lunch we had borscht. Cook served the last of the old bread and reluctantly gave us each a slice from the fresh loaves. I’m glad Lena pressed him—she has no shame. Sure, it’s hard to cut when just out of the oven, but I wasn’t buying his silliness about bread being bad for you when warm.
MAXIM’S MOONSHINE
Lena’s translation: “I am afraid neither you, ladies, nor I would ever make it since it is for home-brew alcohol, absolutely disgusting stuff, which may be consumed at an Antarctic station when nothing else is available. The recipe ingredients include yeast, sugar and water with no indication on the amounts and proportions. I guess one should make a decision himself depending on the amount of initial material at his disposal. Apart from yeast and water a distillation apparatus is needed. And the last detail I should add is that the Russian name of this drink is ‘samogon.’”
SEA CABBAGE (LAMINARIA) SALAD
I can’t imagine following Maxim’s recipe to the letter creates a real crowd-pleaser, but maybe if you cut the pieces of kelp small enough and round out the textures with lots of red cabbage.
Collect living kelp.
Clean with fresh water.
Cut.
Add onion, garlic, mayonnaise.
CAIPIRINHA
As described by Maxim, International Glaciological Expedition ’95
3 ounces whiskey // of a lemon // 1 to 2 tablespoons of sugar
“Not mix, but
mix with press,
and ice of course, and drink is ready.
Attention . . . Ready . . . Go!”
[Translation]
Start with a freshly washed lemon and roll it around on a smooth surface to loosen the juice before cutting out a wedge. Place the lemon wedge in a glass, pulp side up, and sprinkle with sugar. Muddle the lemon with a pestle just long enough to release the juices or it may become bitter. Add the whiskey (2 ounces is probably enough) and stir. When the sugar is dissolved add ice (crushed, cubed, whatever you have) and stir again.
Makes one drink.
PISCO SOUR
Pisco is a brandy made in Chile and Peru, and both countries lay claim to the pisco sour as their national drink. Distinctions can definitely be made: is it lime or lemon, simple syrup or sugar? I can’t recall which of our Chilean hosts gave me this recipe, but when I checked the original in my archive I noticed the words “Esta es su casa” written across the top of my notepaper. I like the idea of serving a cocktail to guests that seems to say, “This is your home.”
4 ounces pisco // 2 ounces fresh lemon juice // 2 egg whites (or 4 teaspoons egg white powder) // sugar to taste
Combine the pisco, lemon juice, egg white and sugar (1 tablespoons is a good place to start) in a cocktail shaker full of ice. Cover and shake vigorously for about 15 seconds, taste, then make adjustments to the sweetness and shake again. Strain into chilled glasses and serve it straight up topped with spoonfuls of lemony foam.
Makes two drinks.
COOK’S BREAD
We didn’t share a language when the Russian cook let me help him make bread, so he mimed his way through the method using whistles and exaggerated gestures for punctuation. As the bread was baking he showed me a chart so I could confirm ratios. Some day I’ll try the version that calls for 100 cups of flour.
7 tablespoons active dry yeast // 2 cups lukewarm water // 2 tablespoons of sugar // 1 cups butter // 6 tablespoons salt // cup sugar // 8 cups hot water // 27 to 28 cups all-purpose flour
Whisk together the yeast and 2 tablespoons of sugar in a medium bowl containing the lukewarm water and set it aside until frothy.
While the yeast is proofing, put the salt, butter and cup of sugar into a large bowl (a large salad bowl will work nicely) and pour in the 8 cups of hot water, stirring well.
When the butter has melted and the mixture has cooled so that it is warm to touch, stir in the yeast followed by about a third of the flour (around 9 cups). Gradually add more flour until you are no longer able to use a spoon to mix, then dust your hands with flour, coax the dough into a soft ball and turn it out onto a floured surface. Continue working the dough gradually adding just enough flour to keep it from sticking to the surface. You’ll know you’ve done good work when you feel the dough becoming smooth and elastic. This could take 10 minutes or more—the longer the better.
Return the dough to the bowl after greasing it with butter, turning to coat the dough all over. Cover the bowl with a tea towel and put it in a warm place to rise for about 1 hours.
To make the bread
When the dough has doubled in size turn it out onto the floured surface and bring it down with a few punches (let your mood determine how many). Leave it to rest for a minute before continuing to knead, fold and punch it a few more times. Divide the dough into the desired number of loaves. Form each portion into a ball and set aside, covered, for about 10 minutes.
To make the loaves, use a rolling pin to roll out each ball into a rectangle slightly longer than the loaf pans you are using. Starting with the narrower edge, roll up the dough like a jelly roll, carefully piercing any large air bubbles as you go. Finish by pinching the last seam together; seal the ends of the roll in the same fashion and fold these flaps under the loaf. Place seam side down into a greased loaf pan. Continue with the remaining dough, cover and set aside to rise for about an hour or until it has risen above the top of the pan.
Bake two or three loaves at a time in the centre of a 350°F oven for 45–55 minutes. You’ll need to control the rise of the remaining unbaked loaves. If you live in a drafty house, place them close to where the cool air is getting in; otherwise make some room in your refrigerator. Bring one set out to rise at room temperature as you place another in the oven. If you are baking more than two loaves at a time rotate the pans twice; first after 15 minutes, then after 30 minutes. You’ll know they are ready when they are nicely browned on top and sound hollow when you tip them out and tap the sides and bottom. Pop them back in the oven if you think they could use more time. When done, remove from pans immediately and transfer to racks to cool. This bread is very sensitive to air temperature—to prevent the crust from becoming wrinkled and cracked, cover your loaves with a tea towel as they cool.
Makes six large or twelve medium-sized loaves.
If you don’t feel like baking the entire yield of Cook’s Bread, wrap the remaining loaves tightly in plastic wrap just after you’ve shaped them and freeze—the dough will continue to rise a bit before it freezes and you want to prevent it from taking over your freezer. When you are ready to bake, unwrap the dough and place it in a prepared loaf pan to thaw and rise. I like to let mine rise overnight on the counter to bake for breakfast. Follow baking instructions as outlined above.
If you’ve signed on to the task of baking all your dough and are strapped for loaf pans, use what you have on hand. Cake pans, baking sheets, muffin pans; rectangular, round or square—all work well. I have even used tin cans and clay flowerpots. Estimate the baking time according to size and when in doubt, set your timer for an extra five minutes, take a peek after two and trust your eyes, ears and nose.
Scaled-back ingredients to make one large loaf of Cook’s Bread:
1 tablespoons active dry yeast // cups lukewarm water // 1 teaspoon sugar // cup butter // 1 tablespoon salt // 4 teaspoons sugar // 1 cup hot water // 4 to 5 cups all-purpose flour
{This image from the Charcot expedition, appears with permission of Anne Marie Vallin-Charcot and thanks to Serge Kahn.}
“I was also convinced that if everyone was to remain in the best possible state of mind, our diet had to be close to the one which our countrymen are ac
customed . . . The question of bread, so important to the French, was finally resolved thanks to the skill of our cook. Three times a week he would make fresh bread for us, and on Friday and on Sunday mornings he would even produce rolls made with butter. On other days we ate the galetas, made at Ushuaia, which were remarkably good.”
—Jean-Baptiste Charcot, Towards the South Pole aboard the Français: The First French Expedition to the Antarctic 1903–1905
NATURE RULES
Carol
I love that science is an Antarctic currency and tool of diplomacy. Our civilian cleanup tried to put policy in action in this remote and once forested place.
A century ago Belgian, British, Norwegian, German, Swedish, French and Japanese expeditions rushed to Antarctica where few humans had yet reached. Roald Amundsen arrived first at the South Pole on December 14, 1911. Explorers counted on a blend of skill, daring, ego, adequate supplies of fuel and food and charitable weather. Most went for empire, but when times got tough food was king.
Antarctic exploration and pursuits of domination continued in the late 1920s, including by air. In 1939 over New Swabia, the Antarctic area the Germans explored and claimed, Nazi planes planned to drop dropped hundreds of steel spears bearing the swastika into the ice.
During the 1800s ships from several territories (but mainly the U.K. and the U.S.) exploited the region’s seals. After those were wiped out, Norway and Britain began whaling and later so did Japan and the Soviet Union. Nations vied for Antarctica’s resources and territory.
These attempts to claim and subdue Antarctica changed in 1957–1958 during the International Geophysical Year. Thousands of scientists from sixty-seven nations collaborated on a comprehensive scientific program, studying the earth’s health, water and weather. Several of these nations made a stunning next step.
The Antarctic Book of Cooking and Cleaning: A Polar Journey Page 5