The Masteka Log

a Whitsundays chronicle — special edition

For the Chef

Merci, Boris

Five days, twelve guests, one galley at sea, and not a single plate that wasn't an event.

Aboard Masteka 2 · The Whitsundays · July 2026

The 24-carat gold leaf dessert on a white plate

The farewell dessert. Twenty-four carats, one standing ovation.

Some chefs feed you. Boris fed the whole story.

The chef

Boris of the Masteka

For five days at sea, whatever else the day held, whales, summits, races, ladders, the surest thing aboard Masteka 2 was that Boris was in the galley and something extraordinary was coming. Twelve guests, three meals a day, one chef, zero misses. This page is the record of it, made with love by all of us, for Boris to keep and to share with his family, because achievements like these deserve an audience beyond the saloon.

Chef Boris in his blacks beside a smiling guest at the dinner table
The man himself, on his final service.
The ritual

The Food Rap

Every meal came with a performance: Boris's Food Rap, delivered tableside with an enthusiasm the group came to demand. By the final night it had a chant. From the last one, in his own words:

“A big bocconcini with a mustard seed dressing. Two types of cauliflower, one white, one purple, with romanesco and pickled leeks. And lamb chops. We had big bones last night, so maybe small bones tonight. We love lambs.”
Boris, the final Food Rap
The final Food Rap, as performed live. Encore demanded, encore given.
The record

Five days of Boris

The menu, as it happened. Every dish below was cooked in a galley that was frequently underway, occasionally heeling, and always outnumbered twelve to one.

Night one: the spatchcock. The trip’s first standing verdict: excellent.
The first of many toasts to the galley.
The breakfasts: eggs, tomatoes, croissants, no mercy.
Day two: slow-cooked roasted rump, chimichurri, aft deck service.
The whole roasted coral trout on a platter
Day three: the whole coral trout, salsa verde. Declared the highlight of the trip, until the next meal.
The trout, up close.
Poached pear, in case anyone doubted the range.
Service with fire: the blowtorch finish, tableside.
Day four: the exquisite risotto, with swordfish alongside.
The brunch that forgave a big night.
The last supper: bocconcini, two cauliflowers, lamb.
The rack of lamb, plated
The lamb itself. “Big bones last night, small bones tonight.” Exhibit final, and finest.
The finale

The gold dessert

And then, for his last plate of the trip, Boris sent out a dessert wrapped in 24-carat gold leaf. The table went quiet, then very loud. There were tears, there was an Austin Powers reference, and there was a sentence nobody aboard had said before: never eaten gold before.

The gold dessert arrives. Twenty seconds of pure theatre.
“Don’t cry again, Claude. We can’t handle it.”
Jane, as the gold went round
The verdict

The ovation

When the last plate was cleared, the table did the only reasonable thing. They stood, and they applauded, and Boris took the kind of bow you earn one meal at a time, fifteen meals in a row.

The ovation, mid-flight.
The chef and his very grateful public.
In his own words

For his family

Asked what he'd do with all the photographs and videos from the trip, Boris didn't hesitate:

“I’ll show those pictures and videos to my mom.”
Boris

Boris, this page is exactly for that. Show her everything. She raised someone extraordinary.

With thanks

Your second heart

Someone at the table said it best on the last night, mid-lamb: "Your second heart!" Food made with that much care doesn't just feed people; it becomes part of the trip's story. Half of what we'll remember about the Whitsundays happened around your table. From all twelve of us, Mark, Beck, Shanna, Mic, Michelle, Sean, Nick, Ali, Claude, Jane, Mal and Elaine: thank you, chef. Wherever you cook next is lucky to have you.

Fifteen meals, one ovation, and a dessert made of gold. Merci, chef.