On the best superyacht charters, dinner is not an add-on. It is the narrative thread that ties anchorages to memory. Burgess highlights four chefs who treat the sea as pantry and theatre, and their work suggests a broader shift in yachting culture toward locality, restraint and rhythm.
Fire, flavour, flow on STARLUST. Chef Nick Walden cooks with binchotan and resolve, letting seasonal produce, a guest’s preferences and the day’s conditions set the pace. The scene is elemental: the dry, clean smoke of binchotan lifting off a sun deck grill, the briny hush of waves a few steps away. In South East Asia, his menus pivot on lemongrass, tamarind, young coconut and just-caught fish, evolving with the itinerary. He even plots meals against the week’s tempo and the weather so lunches feel lazy when the light is high and dinners read as starry, fire-cooked finales. Beach BBQs are a signature, often blending pristine local seafood with select imported ingredients for balance. It is elevated simplicity, and it respects place without turning localism into a gimmick.
Made from scratch on KATHARINE. Chef Belinda’s rule is personal and unfussy: if it goes on the table, she made it. Warm crusts of fresh bread, bright house jams, and ice creams that carry clean, clear flavour do not shout, they reassure. KATHARINE gives her three moods to play with, from a sun deck table with a lazy susan to a long bridge-deck table with expansive views, then a formal dining room when the occasion asks. Croatia informed her summer, where tomatoes were the star, sliced for salads, blitzed for salsa or simmered into sauces you can smell before you sit. Salt-baked sea bass remains her showpiece, the crack of the crust releasing savoury steam. Training in Tokyo, Bangkok and Mexico gives her scope, from precise sushi to Michelin-level desserts or a comforting sticky toffee pudding. Guests often start with detailed preference sheets, then hand over trust. That is the point when surprise becomes part of service.
Precision with heart on GIGIA. Chef Jurgis Merksaitis works like a classicist with a creative streak. The owner’s deck aft seats 18, the sea framed like a moving mural, and that is where many meals earn their applause. He digs into the preference sheet to find more than allergies, asking for favourite restaurants and childhood plates, then reframes them. In Greece, he distilled the region rather than staging a replica taverna. Think deconstructed Greek salad with a clear tomato consommé that smells of warm sun, grilled octopus finished over hot coals, lobster cooked over fig leaves that lend a gentle, green fragrance. He enjoys themed tasting menus built around a single ingredient or region, dialling the energy up or down to match a fast-paced or languid charter. The technique is evident, but it never smothers the story.
Market-driven Mediterranean on C2. Chef Daniel Spina calls his approach zero kilometre, a line that holds because he actually buys in Ibiza’s markets and across the Balearics. The cues are immediate: the clatter of crates at dawn, the clean snap of a tomato, the cool weight of a fish still bright-eyed. Dinners lean Mediterranean and seasonal, from pasta vongolé and salt-crusted fish to beef cheeks slow-cooked in red wine. Watermelon gazpacho arrives like chilled rubies in a white bowl. Spina treats dining as an event, sometimes a themed evening on the flybridge with crew-crafted decoration, sometimes a surprise beach lunch reached by tender where he appears with dishes ready to serve. Spanish desserts keep faith with place, almond gató and crema catalana, plus house-made ice creams that keep children and adults on side.
What this signals is a recalibration. Superyacht dining is drifting away from trophy luxury toward meaningful locality, with chefs working off preference sheets, market runs and micro-climates rather than static tasting menus. There is still room for imports where they improve the plate, and no one is pretending logistics at sea are simple. Yet the better boats now show more culinary humility, which in turn reads as confidence. The setting helps. Sun on teak, salt in the air, the discreet clink of glassware, all of it focuses the appetite and sharpens memory.
The takeaway is clear. If you care about food and travel, some of the most thoughtful cooking now happens between waypoints. It is not about excess. It is about a chef listening to place, to weather, to guests, then telling a story with smoke, citrus and restraint.
Read more about yachts here.
