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Filete De Huevoy Patatas Fritas or steak egg and chips with a Cuba Libra or Cerveza on the side was a common order in the Argentine Vic, ashore that is, with the added bonus you could pick out what part of the animal you wanted as a steak , from a large drawing of the steer pinned to the bulkhead. Wonder if it is still the same. JS
Agent took us to an Argentina Ranch, could drink as much veno as you wanted, steaks were brilliant.
Our Sparkiecwas star of the show, p#ssed he undertook to show other guests how to mount a horse. Took a running jump, flew over the horse and landed on his erse. Crowd loved it.
Vic
Never forget the old Beefy Completo in Argentina. Big jug of wine and a side salada. I think I had that twice, or even three times a day while docked there. Once lunch time in the dockers confitaria, then again out on the lash in the evening, then one for breakfast on the way back to the boat in the early hours. Repeat that over a couple of weeks and felt well satisfied.
Some of the best steaks I ever had was in a restaurant out at sea point in Cape Town.
Served on wooden plates the steak was the size of two dinner plates, but so well done.
Worst was on the British Hawthorn when in port.
Sausages out of a tin and steamed not fried or grilled.
Bacon in a similar manner, along with some very runny poached eggs.
No allowed to cook with heat when in port, never seen so much steamed food.
John.
During the war my brother was at sea and used to bring us exotic foods like diced coconut which my mother used to lock in the drawer of out Welsh Dresser, but unbeknown to her or anyone else, I used to pull out the top drawer and reach down with a spoon and dig out a spoon full
One day she gave me a clip around the ear and said, "Leave the coconut alone" I said, "It wasn't me." she tapped the side of her nose and said, "The others don't have the cunning you have".
Des
When I was a kid, my aunt in Ireland always sent us a big turkey at Christmas. It would be wrapped in newspaper and string and sent by post. No such thing as cold transport in those days, just delivered by the postman. Mind you, I would never eat meat in those days, due to watching my dad kill my favourite chicken for Sunday lunch. That all changed when I went to the Vindy though.