What We Actually Eat on the Boat (When the Fridge Is Tiny)

Mac and I have always eaten well. That part of our life didn’t suddenly disappear when we moved onto the boat.

What did disappear was the ability to casually say, “Oh, we’ll just grab that later.”

Because later now involves a mooring, a tender, and checking the wind.

We’re on a mooring in a marina and use our tender to get to shore. Some days it’s calm and easy. Other days it’s windy, choppy, or just not worth the effort. I’m still learning how to drive the tender (Mac is patiently teaching me), so going ashore is very much a joint effort — and definitely not something you do on a whim.

A quick trip to the shops turns into a whole operation.

There’s the ride in. Then the shopping. Then getting all the bags into the tender. Then getting them from the tender onto the boat.

By the time everything is stowed, you’re very clear on whether that packet of “just in case” food was worth it.

So yes, we still eat lots of fresh food. We just buy it very differently now. At the moment, I tend to buy around three days’ worth of fresh food at a time, rather than stocking up for a week. It keeps things manageable, reduces waste, and makes the whole shopping mission feel achievable.

Alongside that, we’re slowly building up more non-perishable options onboard — not replacing fresh food, just backing it up properly so we’re not caught out if we can’t get ashore for a few days.

There’s no overloading the trolley and figuring it out later. Everything has to earn its place — not just in the fridge or pantry, but in the tender.

Some fresh food is surprisingly good at boat life. Onions, garlic, potatoes, sweet potatoes, pumpkins and carrots are absolute overachievers. They sit there quietly and last for ages.

Other foods… not so much.

Those need to get eaten on a timeline.

We’ve also learnt that non-perishable doesn’t mean unhealthy or sad. Canned fish, legumes, good oils, nuts and seeds have become everyday staples, not emergency rations.

And then there are real boat days. Hot days. Windy days. Days when the thought of cooking feels like a bigger commitment than you’re ready for. On those days, simple, nourishing food wins.

I’ve learnt to keep a few ready-to-eat, heat-up meals in the fridge — the kind you can eat in about 90 seconds, having something healthy that’s already done takes the pressure right off.

One thing no one really talks about is how much storage matters. Airtight containers are suddenly exciting. Knowing what you already have onboard becomes important. And overbuying is something you only do once before realising you now have to carry it all back.

Our galley is small, so everything in it has to earn its keep.

We invested in a microwave that also works as a grill and convection oven — one appliance, lots of options, zero regrets. We use a non-stick electric frying pan for easy meals and an electric grill for when we want that BBQ / braai feel, because some comforts are worth the space!

The biggest shift hasn’t really been about food. It’s been about effort.

Once you realise that going ashore is a joint mission — and sometimes not even an option — you naturally become more mindful. You plan a bit better. You waste less. You stop buying things that don’t pull their weight.

And for me, there’s something else in this too.

I really believe you are what you eat. I’m in a season where I want to be a healthier, fitter version of myself — strong enough for boat life, capable enough to pull my weight, and well enough to enjoy this chapter properly. And that starts with food.

Lately, I’ve even started growing my own sprouts onboard. It’s simple, but there’s something deeply satisfying about eating something that’s come directly from the boat — something that’s alive, fresh, and growing right where we live.

It’s not just about nutrition. It’s psychological. It’s about reconnecting with what I put into my body, slowing things down, and making choices that feel aligned with the life we’re building out here.

So being mindful about what we bring onboard isn’t just practical — it’s personal. It’s one of those small, everyday decisions that quietly supports the bigger picture.

And suddenly, all that effort feels completely worth it.