thedrifter
05-22-06, 09:00 AM
Navy cooks ready for any culinary challenge
May 22,2006
ANNE CLARK
DAILY NEWS STAFF
It was around three o’clock in the afternoon, the midday lull between lunch and dinner, that CS1 (SW) Dino D’Ambra learned that dozens of injured Marines were being medevaced to Naval Hospital Camp Lejeune. Family members flocked to the hospital, anxious and tired, sitting in the dining room while waiting to see their wounded warriors.
D’Ambra and the rest of the cook staff kept the galley open late that night to feed those families. It was the fall of 2004.
“When you’re a cook in the Navy, you never know what’s going to come up,” said D’Ambra. The “CS” before his name stands for Culinary Specialist; the “SW” means that he is trained and qualified to perform duties aboard U.S. surface warships. Before coming to the hospital galley, D’Ambra served on the USS Nashville and the USS Cole, on her second voyage after the bombing.
D’Ambra grew up helping his mom in the kitchen but got his first real taste of the chef’s life at an all-night diner in Syracuse, N.Y., where his specialty was the frittata, a wonderful jumble of eggs, sausage, potatoes, “like your mama cleaning the fridge out,” said D’Ambra.
He and the hospital galley’s other culinary specialists come from different areas and have prepared thousands of meals for the troops under all sorts of conditions.
Cooking aboard a Navy ship has its own challenges, usually beginning about 4:30 a.m. Rough seas can make a cake come out slope-sided, depending on which way the ship pitched while it was baking.
When CS2 (SW) Larry Davis was stationed aboard the USS Ticonderoga, the ship was the base for drug busting ops in South America. Planes took off and landed on the flight deck constantly, and pilots who were on board for only a few minutes needed a bite to eat. That didn’t mean the galley’s crew could slide off schedule — they still had about 90 minutes to feed hundreds of sailors and Marines standing in the chow line.
“It’s another challenge,” said Davis. “You roll with it.”
Aboard the USS Mitscher, CSC (SW) Michael Ledbetter had to be prepared to serve cold cuts in case the ship lost power.
Conditions were even more restrictive for the Marines and sailors living in Camp Viper, Iraq, during Operation Iraqi Freedom I. Lt. Cmdr. Connie Scott was the head of food service at the camp hospital. Patients and staff lived on b-rations, dehydrated boxed food that reconstitutes with water. At least two-thirds of the b-rations, said Scott, had pork in them, a problem when it came to feeding Iraqi civilians and insurgents, who were all treated and fed at the American-run hospital.
Whenever a coalition convoy truck stopped to re-supply the camp, “it was like a sale at a department store,” said Scott.
Back then, a treat was milk, fresh fruit and cold bottled water.
These Navy personnel now work together at the hospital galley. Unlike living in the field, they’re able to buy fresh ingredients locally. This means that Mississippi native Davis can make his popular barbecued ribs, fried chicken, collard greens, red beans and rice and cornbread at least once in the 21-day menu cycle.
Though working in a hospital has a more predictable schedule, there is competition from fast food chains and sub shops.
The hospital serves about 500 meals a day, but this number fluctuates depending on deployments and holidays. The galley staff, too, must be prepared for emergencies like a hurricane that could trap patients and personnel in a building without electricity or water. And they must feed them all for $6.77 a person, per day.
But there’s little that can rattle this crew.
“We come from different places,” said D’Ambra. “It’s the diversity that makes the galley click so well.”
Ellie
May 22,2006
ANNE CLARK
DAILY NEWS STAFF
It was around three o’clock in the afternoon, the midday lull between lunch and dinner, that CS1 (SW) Dino D’Ambra learned that dozens of injured Marines were being medevaced to Naval Hospital Camp Lejeune. Family members flocked to the hospital, anxious and tired, sitting in the dining room while waiting to see their wounded warriors.
D’Ambra and the rest of the cook staff kept the galley open late that night to feed those families. It was the fall of 2004.
“When you’re a cook in the Navy, you never know what’s going to come up,” said D’Ambra. The “CS” before his name stands for Culinary Specialist; the “SW” means that he is trained and qualified to perform duties aboard U.S. surface warships. Before coming to the hospital galley, D’Ambra served on the USS Nashville and the USS Cole, on her second voyage after the bombing.
D’Ambra grew up helping his mom in the kitchen but got his first real taste of the chef’s life at an all-night diner in Syracuse, N.Y., where his specialty was the frittata, a wonderful jumble of eggs, sausage, potatoes, “like your mama cleaning the fridge out,” said D’Ambra.
He and the hospital galley’s other culinary specialists come from different areas and have prepared thousands of meals for the troops under all sorts of conditions.
Cooking aboard a Navy ship has its own challenges, usually beginning about 4:30 a.m. Rough seas can make a cake come out slope-sided, depending on which way the ship pitched while it was baking.
When CS2 (SW) Larry Davis was stationed aboard the USS Ticonderoga, the ship was the base for drug busting ops in South America. Planes took off and landed on the flight deck constantly, and pilots who were on board for only a few minutes needed a bite to eat. That didn’t mean the galley’s crew could slide off schedule — they still had about 90 minutes to feed hundreds of sailors and Marines standing in the chow line.
“It’s another challenge,” said Davis. “You roll with it.”
Aboard the USS Mitscher, CSC (SW) Michael Ledbetter had to be prepared to serve cold cuts in case the ship lost power.
Conditions were even more restrictive for the Marines and sailors living in Camp Viper, Iraq, during Operation Iraqi Freedom I. Lt. Cmdr. Connie Scott was the head of food service at the camp hospital. Patients and staff lived on b-rations, dehydrated boxed food that reconstitutes with water. At least two-thirds of the b-rations, said Scott, had pork in them, a problem when it came to feeding Iraqi civilians and insurgents, who were all treated and fed at the American-run hospital.
Whenever a coalition convoy truck stopped to re-supply the camp, “it was like a sale at a department store,” said Scott.
Back then, a treat was milk, fresh fruit and cold bottled water.
These Navy personnel now work together at the hospital galley. Unlike living in the field, they’re able to buy fresh ingredients locally. This means that Mississippi native Davis can make his popular barbecued ribs, fried chicken, collard greens, red beans and rice and cornbread at least once in the 21-day menu cycle.
Though working in a hospital has a more predictable schedule, there is competition from fast food chains and sub shops.
The hospital serves about 500 meals a day, but this number fluctuates depending on deployments and holidays. The galley staff, too, must be prepared for emergencies like a hurricane that could trap patients and personnel in a building without electricity or water. And they must feed them all for $6.77 a person, per day.
But there’s little that can rattle this crew.
“We come from different places,” said D’Ambra. “It’s the diversity that makes the galley click so well.”
Ellie