land of the long yellow banana

Family, rather than food, is the focus of my short hops across the Tasman these days. But in the couple of decades I've been doing the commute, Wellington has increasingly embraced a burgeoning food culture. So while, thanks to the recent Masterchef episode, the delights of Logan Brown and Martin Bosley’s are high on visiting food bloggers lists, my dining choices are a tad more humble.

The star of the recent visit however, was not home grown.



Even at the foodie Mecca, Moore Wilsons, this golden import seemed ridiculously cheap to a banana-starved Aussie. We managed to chomp through a kilo or two of the fruit in a couple of days.

Also at Moore Wilsons we picked up a few bottles of the extraordinary Lake Sylvan rhubarb flavoured mineral water. This hard to get non-alcoholic treat is one of the best I’ve ever tasted. It’s worth a trip for this drink alone. The walnut and ginger slice (from Janus Bakery, I think) was another sweet treat we loved. Dare I say it, but I think it may have been better than my mother ever made!

At the Lido café (opposite the visitors centre in the CBD), I sampled one of the best kedgerees to date. Though not entirely traditional with the addition of a tomatoey condiment, it was a stand out. And a huge serve to boot. The Lido has served the test of time, being one of the first in the late ‘80s café resurgence. The coffee is great and the staff friendly.

In recent years, good food has begun to infiltrate the suburbs. With excellent bays and harbour views, waterside residential areas just a short hop from the city have come into their own. Apart from the excellent Maranui café, Lyall Bay is also home to Elements. This is a frequent family lunch spot, though not hugely vegetarian friendly, the food is consistently good. My elderly father drives across town for their lambs fry and bacon, but it’s not stuck in a time warp. The Significant Eater had a spectacular poached coconut chicken salad, while I tend to stick to a vego modified big breakfast.

But the emerging star of the New Zealand food scene has to be the impressive variety of beverages on offer these days. Forget the Sauvignon Blanc (yes please) and the boutique beers, it’s the alcohol-free stuff that continues to impress. While the previously mentioned Lake Sylvan mineral water is hard to get, most cafes still offer a tempting variety of locally made drinks. Hardie Boys dry ginger beer is always my first choice but the Aroha elderflower based Sparkles caught my attention. Great to see wildcrafted herbs on the menu!



Despite it being midwinter, Wellington shone on this trip. The flight into the capital city showed off the snow capped Southern Alps in their full glory and against the odds the sun shone every day.

Hill Street blues, reds and greens

“It’s crap”, the knowledgeable local uttered when I said I was going to pop into Wellington’s Hill Street Market on Saturday morning. But I could feel a little tingle in my produce hunting bones and bartered my precious short break from family commitments to head off to the capital city’s newest farmer’s market.



Though small the market has potential. On the day I attended I found good quality organic produce including some spectacular Savoy cabbages for a mere NZ$2 (Au $1.57), what a bargain. I bought a bag of beautiful broccoli shoots and large organic eggs from the Wairarapa Eco Farm.



Tapioca Treats creates a range of gluten free products from breads to muffins and other sweet finds. Some are also dairy -free, like the chocolate muffin I sampled. Their stall looked much more appealing to me than the French bakery from the city that had its wares on display.

The market also sold meaty products, preserves, posies of flowers, fruit, wine and cheese. I wished I was going to be around for longer so I could have munched my way through more of the goods on offer but at least my sister had got to reap the benefit of my small organic harvest.

New Zealand has such a fabulous range of small producers, give the market a go!

Hill Street Farmers Market
9am – 1pm every Saturday
Hill Street (next to St Paul’s Church)
Thorndon
Wellington
New Zealand

quickie - old friends and new adventures

Not sure what happened while I was in Wellington recently. Due to family obligations it wasn’t exactly a holiday so sadly missed the final days of the very successful inaugural “Wellington of a plate”. I did however fall in love with a newish schoc flavour – bitter peppermint. The other (re)discovery was a love on cornflakes. Last night I had them as a post dinner snack with dried cherries, pistachios and soy milk.

Flan, frittata or bakes. I don’t care what you call it but I also got reacquainted recently with the joy of taking a bunch of vegetables (in this case Lucy’s lovely chard and kale straight from her garden), adding some flavours (onion, garlic and za’atar), something salty (olives and tuna) and binding it with a few beaten eggs. Twenty minutes in a moderate oven (as long as you’ve precooked your ingredients) there’s a lovely bake on the table for dinner.

Lisa Dempster has posted a great story on how Lord of the Flies dealt with her original musings on ”Lord of the Flies: still the best?". Is any publicity good publicity and did LOTF get social media right or wrong?

I’m popping out for a bit. Off to steamy Malaysia in one more sleep. Any tips on where to go, what to eat on the peninsula? Plans are rather open at the moment. Will acclimatise in Melaka for a few days then who know where we will go – food and rest are the only things on the agenda for a while.

a taste of gluten-free Aotearoa for Doc Witch (and Eleanor's mum)

Go Bang Espresso

182 Jackson St, Petone (Wellington)
04 939 0070

Petone was the site of the first European settlement in the Wellington area. Those crazy Brits got off the boat at the head of the harbour and claimed the place as their own. While there was some agreeably flat land (albeit a swamp) in an otherwise hilly landscape there was only one problem, the open foreshore caught the full blast of the southerly buster. The Antarctic wind soon blew the new residents further around the harbour and the rest, so they say, is history.

Not that Petone is uninhabitable. Far from it. Many generations down the line from early invasion the locals are not put off by a southerly and are happy to swap a little exposure for the convenience of drive on access. These days Petone is a place on the up and there are two sure signs this is so – an art house cinema and some passable cafes.

Go Bang Espresso is probably the cream of the crop. A friend bought me here for a descent coffee a couple of years ago en route for a day ‘over the hill’ in Martinborough (how did we miss Schoc chocolate on that trip?). By accident I found myself there again during my latest trip home. The Lighthouse cinema is a comfortable place to take an elderly parent out for a little daytime entertainment but movie watching can build an appetite and we both needed some lunch.

The formica tables at GBE reminded me of my own Fitzroy two decades ago when Brunswick Street was just coming into its own. While there were no tofu balls on the menu at GBE, it did have a modern equivalent that impressed the pants of me – a separate gluten-free menu. Yes you heard that right, a whole menu of coeliac-friendly options. Though gluten is not my allergy, I do feel compelled to give any places that cater for food intolerance their dues and to sample the produce as a way of encouraging them to continue to offer them.

So what does GBE offer? This is a daytime café, open 7 days, serving up breakfast, lunch, cakes and coffee. There were the usual egg options for breakfast on regular or gluten-free toast but also the bread-free combo of hash cakes (I presume they mean a potato based goodie, not something you’d get in Amsterdam) with spinach and wasabi mayonnaise plus a side of smoked salmon, bacon or tomato ($14-16). Tempted as I was by that brunch option I went for a veggie burger with sides, which was dairy-free in gluten-free bread rather than a regular bun. My mum opted for a beef burger that came with a great beetroot relish. Both dishes were reasonably priced (around $16 from memory but remember we are talking kiwi dollars here, so it was about Au$13 for a good quality homemade burger).

What impressed me most of all was there being no additional charge for the gluten-free option, as some places here are want to do. I didn’t explore sweet options but am told there are some gluten-free friends amongst the regular fare. The café was friendly, staff competent and there was a fair sprinkling of regular customers, which is always a good sign.

The hash cake brekkie would have drawn me back on another day if I’d had more time. After all when in Amsterdam, or Petone, why not?

Capitol - Wellington

Wellington. My old hometown. Another public holiday, flying visit. I’ll keep it short and sweet – only one new food experience for me this weekend.

There was much talk of “draconian” new labour laws - where employers now have to pay a decent holiday loading and give time off in lieu. What a scandal, up to 20% surcharge in some of the establishments that daned to turn their espresso machine on for Easter Friday and Sunday. Being all for fair pay, I didn’t mind. But anyway. I wasn’t out on the mean streets looking for a meal on those days.

Saturday, the city briefly came out of a sleepy hiatus. I had the opportunity of a quick lunch in the city with my sister after we’d the amusing experience of watching our elderly dad land a 737 in both Heathrow and Singapore. No airline food in the flight simulator though. Time for something new, or at least a change from the predictable fare (yes I had yet another good meal at Chow in Tory Street and a passable lunch at Eva Dixon’s on the way to the airport – though when a menu says “nicoise salad” I’d expect to see some olives and for the tuna to not be optional).

Unlike the last time I attempted to eat there, The Capitol was open. Right next to the movie theatre at the top of Courtney place, this café has stood the test of time. The menu is relatively small and the service is variable. Vegetarians are not very well catered for. My sister managed to rearrange the crepe on offer, removing the pancetta and cheese for a more vegetable based option. The kitchen obliged with no hassle. For me there was only one dish that caught my eye – an artichoke and potato fritter with smoked fish. A trip to New Zealand is incomplete without some kind of fishy morsel, preferably smoked. I didn’t catch the quickly spoken name of the seafood that was on offer that day (oh to have such choice in Melbourne) but it was pleasantly smoky and salty without being over the top. The fritter was more of a well fried, large potato cake with chunks of fish on top. Flavour-wise the closest comparison would be the addictive fish cakes at Ciccolina in St Kilda. I skipped the crème fresh and was not at a loss without it. Maybe something acidic to cut through fat would have been better, preserved lemons perhaps?

The espresso, looked and tasted like a ristretto, a mere half a mouthful of caffeine. It didn’t touch the sides. The soy hot chocolate passed muster, though took some prompting after waiting for 10 minutes in a café that at the time had only 2 tables of patrons.


Verdict: Worth another visit. The menu range was very narrow for non-meat eaters but the staff was friendly. I’d certainly try the fritters again.

Capitol
10 Kent Tce
Mt Victoria
Wellington
Region: Wellington

Phone: 04-3842855

confessions of a kitchen hand

My parents’ original kitchen had a low bench, the perfect height for a child to learn the basics of cookery. It was the spot to mix eggs and sugar for cake batter with the electric hand beater or later the huge trusty Kenwood. The perfect height for making pastry or kneading bread. The right nook for placing the electric fry pay when cooking up a batch of pikelets or as a forerunner to a wok for making such 70’s savoury exotics as chop suey. It was where I liked to sit and swing my legs while watching the workings of the kitchen and ask those unending childhood questions that always began with “Why..?”

My familial apprenticeship complete, I moved to my first shared house equipped with my handwritten recipes and a toaster oven. A couple of houses later I’d finished my B.A. and quite unsurprisingly found myself unemployed. With a choice of being a waitress or a kitchen hand I opted for the latter. I’ve never done servility well and anyway tipping didn’t exist in the kind of establishments that I was likely to work in at the time. If I were to work hard, I’d prefer to get dirty and sweaty with a smile being entirely optional.

I found myself getting some plum shifts at a chaotic café run by a couple of refugees from the theatre. They had the romantic vision along the lines of “I’ve always fancied running a café” common to people who’d never worked in hospitality before in their lives. They were good women, working in the most grossly under funded area of the arts who wished to create a bohemian haven for their fellow travellers. Art adorned the walls, a soundproof door could be pulled across to make a performance space, there was often a joint to be shared in the storeroom and there was always a satisfying meal to be had for a pittance.

The kitchen was a moderate size and open for all to see behind a servery hatch. I’d start the shift prepping salads or whatever in the whirl of their day had not been completed a whisker before opening for dinner. The food was basic stuff – vats of homemade soup, large bakes, massive bowls of salad, huge cakes served in generous slices, a pudding with lashes of cream. There was no table service. Punters would line up behind the counter and be served on the spot. In the odd liquor licensing of the day there was no bar but Irish coffees were permitted – a mug of filter coffee with a dollop of whipped cream with a nip of whiskey poured over the top.

Once the food was on the counter – I’d toil at the sink washing dishes, serve when one of the owners wanted a break, clear the odd table and wash more dishes. With no true chef on the premises I cannot confess to learning how to correctly slice or dice or pick up any handy cooking techniques but I’m proud to say my mother had trained me well enough that if a health inspector happened to pop in while I was on duty, the café would never fail the test. Of the many odd jobs of my youth, this is one I remember dearly. My ill-suited employers were good bosses, nice people and what’s more – on Sunday nights I got to take home all the leftover cake as they were shut the next day.

Wellington is now a city of funky cafes and more espresso machines than people know what to do with. The home of my hospitality experience of the 80’s has long ceased to exist, the women sold the place after a couple of years to someone more suited to the task. It eventually changed its name and at some point between visits the place sunk without a trace. But it was a great concept and I'm sure it holds a place in the hearts and stomachs of those who frequented it.

Whenever I hear someone who enjoys eating and cooking look around their local haunt and utter, “I’d like to run a café”, I smile quietly to myself and ask if they’ve ever worked in such a place. The reply inevitably is negative followed by a big but – they eat out so much they know how restaurants are run/all their friends tell them they are such a great cook and they should open their own place one day/they are sure it couldn’t be that hard. I think of the two friends from the theatre who followed their vision, worked so hard as to knock a few years off their life expectancy (or in one owner’s case – pickled her liver to compensate) and left a legacy of memories for some of their customers and the odd kitchen hand they employed.