Queenstown: a town for all seasons and appetites

Gold first bought European settlers to Queenstown in the 1860’s, 150 years on the rush continues. This time the precious commodity is tourism and the southern New Zealand town has hit on a formula for all seasons and almost every kind of traveller. It’s extraordinary to find an area that can equally satisfies both backpackers and well coiffed retirees, offering high adrenaline activities alongside more sedate ways of taking in the scenery.

We were a motley lot of mostly Kiwis and Aussies, not exactly in the flush of youth, looking for a different kind of experience; a six-day stroll through the beach forests and a hike over the mountains. Like the backpackers we wanted physical adventures but like the latte set, also craved some semblance of comfort after a day of rock hopping down steep inclines in pouring rain. Ultimate Hikes managed to deliver both, through it’s guided tramp on the Greenstone and Routeburn tracks.

A walk like that creates quite an appetite. Back in Queenstown we ate with gusto. Understandably we gave lauded eateries like the Botswana Butchery and Flame a wide berth. Our favourites included:

Kappa (Upstairs, 36 The Mall): A small, authentic Japanese restaurant that’s been serving the locals for over 10 years. The sushi is fresh and varied; tempura crisp and light. The Born Again Vegan managed to find enough to satisfy (not always easy with this type of cuisine) including an excellent soba salad (it’s bigger than it looks in this photo). In kiwi dollars this place is reasonably priced, even cheaper with the current exchange rate.

AtThai (Upstairs, 24 Beach Street): Another local recommendation that’s stood the test of time. A good range of specials and the usual Thai fare. Here “hot” will mean just that, so be aware when ordering. We had the added bonus of a window seat with a view of the backpackers hostel opposite, watching the sweet young things preening for a night out on the town. In Queenstown, every night is party night!

Halo Café (1 Earl St): served us a hearty bowl of porridge at 7am and the last city espresso before the tramp. Both hit the spot. We also enjoyed another late lunch in the sunny courtyard, eating burgers (fish and vegan options included). Better than average daytime food, in a quiet, comfortable setting.

Vudo Café (23 Beach St): This place felt like home, except for the NZ café culture that tends to lack table service. The retro décor, great stack of interesting magazines to browse through, a sunny corner table, the best cup of coffee in town and hearty, even vegan-friendly, breakfasts made this place a winner. A steady stream of locals poured in to grab a tasty sweet treat from the cabinet and a takeaway coffee. Vudo’s generosity extends to a computer with free internet access and giving away their trade secrets with monthly recipes on the website.

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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.

television chefs: the real deal

While dissing the current crop of reality TV cooking programs, I mentioned in passing a kiwi classic. Now for you viewing pleasure I give you a taste of Graham Kerr. Yes, it's a bit meaty but keep in mind this episode was shot in 1966. No, I didn't watch it first time round.

It's worth watching both episodes. The whole show is entirely ad libbed, with Graham answering questions from a "live" studio audience. I almost cried with homesickness listening to the accents of the good Wellington housewives.

He really was a charming devil, who tried his best to bring haute cuisine to the culinary desert.

Please enjoy - The Graham Kerr Show.

refreshment break

Time to take a short break while life whirls on around me. My head and a heart are in NZ with my family at the moment, though the rest of me remains on the other side of the Tasman.

While I'm contemplating the universe and the complexities of aged care, help yourself to a drink. This one's for the kiwis. Not the ever popular L&P but a family favourite from my childhood.



Camroc was a dry ginger ale, popular in New Zealand in the twentieth century.

In our house, where soft drinks were a rare treat, camroc was reserved for when we were ill. Being bought a small glass of camroc, by mum, while languishing in bed with a malady made being sick worth it. If camroc didn't bouy our spirits, she knew something was desperately wrong.


Click to enlarge. An ad for Camroc, (Wellington's) Evening Post, 1913

Does anyone know when and why Camroc went out of production? Sorely missed by at least one Wellington family.

worse things than a shortage of bananas

It's been a crap summer in this part of the world. We seem to be leaping from disaster to disaster. Just as the floods, fires and cyclones are beginning to recede in Australia, it's New Zealand's turn for sorrow.

Some of you know I'm a kiwi and it's only just come to my attention that there's been a bit of quiet worry in the blogosphere as to the fate of my family and friends. It's ok, those closest to me live in Wellington, though we all know someone in the quakezone.

Full update on the almost defunct, not-about-food blog for those who are interested.

fritter heaven

What comes to mind when you think of kiwi food? While there’s the archetypal lamb roast and pavlova*, it's not something you’ll find in every café. When it comes to a certainty on every urban menu, the gong has to go to fritters.

Corn fritters seem to appear on almost every New Zealand breakfast menu for over a decade. Despite the fact canned corn never goes out of season, the more adventurous establishment will branch out to zucchini or other fresh vegetables in summer. They are cheap, easy to make and team well with relishes, chutneys and a host of side dishes.

In the past I’ve just haphazardly thrown some flour, egg and soy milk into a bowl and beat til it formed a batter. Following on my promise of making some earmarked treasures from my old Annabel Langbein cookbook The Best of Annabel Langbein, I gave her soda water fritter batter a go. The first time round I followed it to the letter. Certainly the creaminess of milk (or soy) is not missed but I still found it quite a cakey batter. I’ve had a few goes at making my own variations; it’s a work in progress so feel free to direct me to your favourite recipe.

Basic Fritter batter
These rose nicely and were a little lighter than the original recipe.

1/2 cup unbleached plain flour
1/2 cup cornflour
1.5 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp salt
2 eggs
1/2 cup soda or sparkling mineral water

Sift the dry ingredients into a large bowl. Stir in the eggs and soda water and mix til your have a smooth batter.

If your batter is not smooth you can always force it through a sieve.

Allow to sit for half an hour before cooking.

Carrot fritters
Per cup of batter

1 carrot, grated
1 tsp coriander seeds
1/2 tsp fennel seeds
1/2 tsp cumin seeds

Grate the carrots.

Toast the seeds in a hot pan and then grind to a powder.

Add all ingredients to the batter, ideally while it’s resting to infuse the spices.

To cook the fritters

Add a neutral vegetable oil to a heavy bottom pan and bring up to a medium heat. Cook fritters in batches, place spoonfuls of the batter in pan, encouraging a roundish shape. Allow small bubbles to appear in the batter before turning (about 2-3 minutes each side). Cook til golden on each side.

Recipe Update (Nov 2011)

Less batter, more carrots = excellent outcome. Here's my latest version.

For the fritters - basically halve the flour

1/4 cup unbleached plain flour
1/4 cup cornflour
1.5 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp salt
2 eggs
1/4 - 1/2 cup soda or sparkling mineral water

For the spicy carroty part

3 carrot, grated
1 tsp coriander seeds
1/2 tsp fennel seeds
1/2 tsp cumin seeds

Follow the previous method.



Spiced carrot fritters – deluxe version

Top warm carrot fritters with good quality mayonnaise mixed with a spoonful of harissa paste and a squeeze of lemon. Adjust to taste; the spices should be noticeable in the mayo without burning your mouth.

Finish off with some strips of the queen of Kiwi delights, smoked eel.

I promise you this is a seriously good combination!




Notes

Not so cheap but marvellously cheerful is the other national dish whitebait fritters. Don’t confuse the batter recipes; whitebait only requires the lightest of licks of egg to keep them together.

I sometimes make a double batch of the basic batter and divide in two for a different set of flavoured fritters for lunch and then breakfast the next day.

Fritters make handy vegetarian meals and also a clever way to hide vegetables for fussy kids.

Some combos of my favourite fritter combos include:
Corn and caramelised onions
Zucchini (drain grated zucchini in a sieve first) and mint
Corn fritters served with a dollop of guacamole



* wash you mouths out my dissenting Aussie friends, New Zealand definitely is the home of the pav!

whitebait season

Despite living in the global food basket, there’s the odd treat from across the ditch that is challenging to source in Melbourne. Feijoas make a brief and often pricey visit in winter, tamarillos almost as fleeting and yams, the tiny red tubers that most kiwis love, haven’t been sighted for years. The aforementioned vegetable used to turn up at one stall at Vic market for two or three weeks each September, where homesick New Zealanders would inundate the bemused greengrocer. But no more.

The most illusive delicacy of all is a wriggly little sucker. Genuine, New Zealand whitebait. No not those chunky little fish that Aussies call by the same name. Nor the foul tasting variety of little ‘uns that arrive frozen from Thailand.

Even in the homeland whitebait has an expensive and short lived season. At $160 a kilo, this is a prized entrée, eeked out with egg to make the flavour go further. Though the first time I ate the wrigglers, I’d helped catch them myself in a mountain stream. Free, bar the cold I caught from a day spent too close to icy water.

On my last trip home I picked up 200 gms of whitebait as a treat for my parents. You can just beat an egg and toss through the fish if you like but I like a little more “hold” in my batter. It’s light, crunchy and very easy to make.

Kiwi whitebait fritters
(quantities per 100 gm of whitebait)

100 gm of whitebait

1 egg, separated
1 tab cornflour
salt and pepper

Vegetable oil
(knob of butter optional)
Lemon wedges to server

Place the whitebait in a sieve and strain. Separate the egg(s) and beat the whites to soft peaks. Take the yolk(s) and beat in the cornflour with a wooden spoon. Stir in the salt and pepper. Gently fold in the beaten eggwhites into the yolk mixture.

At this point you can either carefully add the whitebait, or if you want a less eggy fritter (if you’ve caught your own and have plenty, so you don’t need to eek out the precious produce) place the whitebait into another bowl and gently fold in the batter a spoonful at a time until the whitebait it just holds the fish together.

Heat up your frypan, add oil (if you want a more golden fritter the addition of animal fat, such as a knob of butter to the oil). Add about a tablespoon of mixture and fry the fritters til golden. Then turn over and cook the other side, about two minutes each. Traditional whitebait fritters are the size of a pikelet but these days fitters come in all shapes and sizes.

Serve with a wedge of lemon and eat immediately.


Excuse the poor quality picture, the light was fading and the natives were restless. For a clearer image check out this little beauty.

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

my life in 10 dishes

Jill Dupleix mused about her life in 10 dishes in the Sydney Morning Herald this week.

There are lots of ways of tracing your own personal history. You can go back through family photo archives and trace the hair styles. You can do it with music, by listing the songs that symbolize special times in your life. Or you can do it with food.

How could I resist?

1. Cheese on toast. The standby meal/snack from as far back as I can remember that lasted til my mid-twenties, when I realized my relationship with delicious dairy was a dysfunctional one. On Sundays when we’d been to my Nana’s for a roast lunch, dinner would be Maggi chicken noodle soup and cheese on toast in front of The Wonderful World of Disney. Life didn’t get better than that.

2. Chop suey. Mum would fire up the electric fry pan and toss together onion, garlic, veal, cabbage and soy sauce. A dish that the entire family liked so was in regular rotation with the other staple – chops and veg. Very classy home cooking C1970.

3. Afghans. Opening the biscuit tin after school and finding a fresh batch of afghans, with the obligatory piece of walnut on top of the splodge of chocolate icing, was pure bliss. I’d love to find just such a tin in my grown up life house.

4. Beef stroganoff. At twelve years old I cooked stroganoff, a dish I’d never eaten before, for my mother and aunt one night. Mabel said, “You’ll make someone a good wife”…Perhaps if I’d continued cooking with meat and dairy I would have?

5. Baked chicken breasts. Leaving home at 18 I moved into a soon to be condemned flat with a lovely housemate and his German shepherd. I remember partaking in illegal substances on the stovetop in the cupboard-sized kitchen but for dinner I’d use my shiny new toaster-oven and bake chicken breast slathered with garlic.

6. Quiche. The year was 1983 and my on-the-verge-of-coming-out housemate taught me how to cook quiche. The house was slightly better than my first flat and although the gas stove was suitably antiquated I still knocked up cakes, curries and the odd quiche.

7. Baked potatoes. In London I was vegetarian (I rarely ate seafood due to the Irish sea being radioactive) living with two pregnant/lactating women, an accountant, a witch, two blokes, three small children and a couple of chickens. The house was big, warm and better than anywhere I previously lived. Best of all was the American-style double oven in a huge kitchen with a wooden table that comfortably sat 10. The worst crime was not cooking enough food, so that meant scrubbing at least two dozen potatoes, to serve baked with a big pot of ratatouille .

8. Vegan Mexican feast. Living in Melbourne exposed me to exotic foods from many cultures. There was a short lived Mexican grocery store in Lygon Street in the early ‘90’s and I threw a few dinner parties featuring fresh blue corn tortillas, refried beans, salsa spiked with jalapenos and jugs of margaritas.

9. Whole fish. Apart from scrubbing fewer potatoes, life beyond shared houses meant I cooked and ate more seafood. Growing up fish meant fillets, so exploring the world of cooking the entire beast was virgin territory. From simple, just a few lemon slices or a handful of herbs in the belly, to baked with spices, olives, tomatoes and slices of potatoes, I love this economical way of eating fish.

10.Curries, tagines and the spicy life. Though I cooked my first vegetarian curry from scratch in the quiche house a couple of decades ago, it’s been a long journey to roasting and grinding my own dried spices and growing fragrant green herbs. The last decade has been flavoured with sambals, Sri Lankan curries, fresh harissa paste, tamarind, kecap manis and Vietnamese mint. The herb cupboard overflows and the tagine is a utensil not a decoration. Please don’t make me choose a favourite!

So what dishes characterise your life so far?

P.S. - I'm guessing like many biographical entries, what we did in the past doesn't always represent our present. I can only eat 7-10 (plus a modified #3) these days but it was sweet to remember them none the less.

rhubarb cordial and sweet nostalgia

The cooler months are a time of nostalgia for me. Perhaps it is an affinity with the weather – the colder, damper and windier it is, the more I am at home. It’s also the season for familiar fruits – feijoa, kiwi, tamarillo and rhubarb, all of which can stab me with a bitter/sweet shard of homesickness.

Like many of us who are comfortable in the kitchen, it carries a daily reminder of the culinary traditions shared by my mother. Even if for me some of these skills are now redundant – through observation and careful assistance my mum taught me how to cream butter and sugar for a cake and to use the eggs from the pantry, not the cold ones in the fridge, for baking. As a carnivorous child I learnt how to brown cubes of beef for a casserole and the art of gravy making.

Decades on and in a different country, when I stew rhubarb (the only fruit that was ever plentiful in our shady garden) I cut the stalks into thick slices with my mother’s hands. I toss the sugar in carelessly, adding sweetness as required, remembering to only moisten with a little water and keep an eagle eye on the pot while it simmers on a low heat.

Though my mother is still able bodied, she no longer stews fruit. It’s years since she cooked and the poorly stocked kitchen under my father’s reign fills me with waves of grief each time I visit. This was once the heart of the home, now the drawers and cupboards are alarming spartan. It is the room of the house I feel her absence most. Despite that fact mum still bustles in, she might eye the kettle but is unable to reliably make a cup of coffee now.

Lately I’ve found myself honouring her memory by reading the books she used enjoy and keeping some of her kitchen traditions alive, albeit on another continent. I know I can’t blow the dementia from her brain or bring back the woman who raised me but I find these rituals comforting. For now she still has a dry sense of humour and can come up with the odd gem. She knows who I am but our baking days are over.

Despite the nostalgia, these small acts are more homage than slavish re-enactments. Last week I bought the fattest bunch of rhubarb and deviated from her simple recipe. The idea was to not only have stewed fruit for my morning cereal but also make a stab at rhubarb cordial.

My sister set the train in motion by mentioning she’d found a new mineral water in Queenstown, one scented with the tang of rhubarb. After last summer’s jag of cordial making this was an idea I couldn’t resist. The usual Googling yielded odd mentions but scanty, often imprecise, recipes.

Of course my own efforts are equally as vague. It’s a work in progress. Playing by ear without a set of scales or measuring cups in sight. As I use these digital pages as a cook’s journal, these are my thoughts for creating such a pink-alicious concoction.



Rhubarb cordial – a work in progress

Clean your rhubarb, then top and tail the stalks.
Chop into thick chunks.
Place the fruit in a pot and add enough cold water to come up to about half the level of the chopped rhubarb.
Sweeten the fruit with sugar, as desired (you’ll add more later when making the syrup, the first round of sugar is to make the fruit edible without it being cloyingly sweet).
Toss in a cinnamon stick.
Bring the pot to a gentle simmer, half cover with a lid and set it on the lowest heat.
Check the pot every 5 minutes and stir.
Despite the firmness of the raw stalks, rhubarb cooks quite fast. It can go from thick chunks to pulpy very quickly – maybe 10-15 minutes depending on the size of the pot, the density of the fruit and degree of heat.
I like my stewed rhubarb to have some pulp and some defined but soft chunks. Once it is at your desired consistency, strain the contents of the pot over a large bowl.
Leave for a good hour or so.

If I was only making only cordial, with no desire to eat the fruit, I’d line the sieve with muslin and squeeze the pulp before discarding. But that seems like an utter waste to me. After about an hour of draining the pulp still retains enough moisture to eat but has yielded a fair amount of gloriously pink juice.

Measure the juice and place in a pan on low heat. Add 1/3 of the quantity (eg: if 2 cups of juice, add 2/3 cup of sugar). How much sugar you actually need will depend on how sweet you made the stewed fruit. If you had a heavy hand the first time around, start with a ratio of 1 part sugar to 4 parts juice and add more if required. Allow the sugar to melt into the juice to make a light syrup. Off the heat add a tablespoon or two of lemon juice to taste.

Pour a dash or a big slurp of cordial in a glass and serve with sparkling mineral water or soda.

Next batch – I’m adding rosewater.


You might also like the taste of:
Stewed rhubarb with roses
Lemon cordial
Rose petal cordial

delicious and nutritious: please discuss

I couldn't have got a more perfect long weekend in Wellington - the weather was warm, the sunsets golden and the people as wonderful as ever.

While the social highlight was a huge party on the South Coast with the best view of the glorious sun setting over the Marlborough Sounds (not something you see often from Wellington) - I was one free glass of sparkling wine away from asking strangers at random "Do I know you? Did we bonk in the '80's?" Fortunately I was distracted by the many luminaries, a freshly announced Oscar nominee, some of the countries leading visual artists and rock stars...and catching up with people I didn't recognise after over 20 years.

Foodwise the standout was The Matterhorn, that I have mentioned before still dishing up great modern kiwi cuisine with unusually good service.

This t-shirt is in the running for the most curious thing I saw while on holiday.


Cuba Street, Wellington (with vegetarian sister looking on with horror)

Oh that kiwi sense of humour!

But perhaps the oddest site was my visit coinciding with a rather unusual rugby event, The Sevens, where whole tribes of people don matching costumes and wander the city for two and a half days. Some even go watch the games but many just appear to hang out in the streets or along the waterfront drinking vast quantities of liquor. There were scores of Tiger Wood's, smurfs, marmite jars, beer cans, Fred Daggs and more film and tv characters than you could poke a stubby at.




Now...if only I could catch up on some sleep and get this busy week under my belt then I can get back to cooking the truckload of tommy toe tomatoes that have fruited in abundance in my garden!

no place like home

How nice, New Zealand has just been named the most peaceful country in the world. It seems that Iceland has been toppled off its perch due to a bit of unrest with the GFC and all.

The latest issue of Vogue Entertaining has a mouthwatering multi-page feature on the joys of Wellington. It seems my compatriots really know about coffee as well as quirky cafes and fashion these days. To be honest it whet my appetite to visit this exotic city. Until I cottoned on to the fact that it was my home town. I just didn't recognise it in the sunshine and all.

For the sake of New Zealand's economy, do go visit. Stay a few days and drink the coffee. Be kind to the waiting staff if they are not quite up to scratch as they locals don't tip very often, so the culture of attentive service is not universal.

Just pack some woolies!

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?

schoc therapy

Schoc chocolate opened at the end of 2002 but it took me another five years to discover them. However once tasted, it was hard to go back to the everyday, better quality supermarket variety. The flavour choices in other lines are comparatively dull after sea salt or lime and chilli.

The highlight of my recent trip home was a visit to relatives in Greytown. This once sleepy town in the Wairarapa is now a hot bed of high real estate prices and boutiques run by Khandallah housewives (for Australian equivalent think Trude and Prue from Kath and Kim, I swear last summer I overheard two store owners that were their doppelgangers). Just like Victoria’s own Daylesford, Greytown is a small town with an ever growing tourist trade wanting gourmet food, homewards and other accoutrements of status.

Which brings us to Schoc. Run by Murray and partner Roger in a cutesy 1920’s cottage. While there is an espresso bar with Schoc outlet in central Wellington, Greytown is the home of Schoc. This is where the goodies are made and there is marginally more space to display the wares and take your time tasting the tiny chips of the tablet range from little wooden spice boxes. However on this visit the place was swamped by a busload of women who probably thought the flavours were peculiar and couldn’t work out why it cost so much more than a block of Cadbury’s.

Schoc is obviously created by people who love, eat, sleep and breathe chocolate. This is obvious when you read the delivery notes setting a deliberate mailing schedule to avoid their precious cargo sitting in hot postal warehouses over the weekend. It also explains why we can’t buy it in Melbourne. Murray has yet to find an outlet that understands chocolate to his own high exacting standards. (“David Jones!” he scoffed, “they know nothing about chocolate”).




While many connoisseurs will head straight to the extensive truffle range such as Smoked Tea (Lapsang Souchong Tea infused ganache dipped in dark chocolate) or Tequila, Lime & Salt (Mexican Tequila, dried lime & flakey crystal sea salt in a white chocolate hand-painted mould) due to my problems tolerating dairy I head straight to the dark section of the flavoured tablets (ranging from 53-76.5% cocoa mass). If I had more time or the busload of philistines hadn’t been there I would have like to have explored the single bean and country of origin blocks this time.

Instead I picked up a couple of old favourites – lemon and black pepper and limechilli, as well as rose which is fast becoming my latest obsession. I got to have a quick chat to Murray (I was with my aunt who knows everyone in town which was quite handy) and tell him how much I loved his products.



While the Australian dollar is strong it is tempting to place a bulk order to be shipped over when I run out of my current supplies but gluttony (and not fitting my summer clothes as it) is aside, I like the ritual of sampling and buying a select few tablets each time I visit. But if I’ve peaked your appetite you can order directly from Schoc and taste their great chocolate for yourself.

restaurant at the end of the universe

We took the ‘expensive’ room with a view of the lake. The other, though I now think would have been a whole lot quieter, was like a walk in cupboard with a double bed crammed into it. Our one night away from the relatives would have a view and enough room to swing a cat. Anyway, I’m a sucker for blue over a drab olive green any day.

After sitting at a picnic table outside the bar downing Monteith’s finest ale my rumbling tummy set us in search of food. The pub was the only choice in the area, so thankfully there would be no issue about who’d drive home. The whiff of tired oil from the deep fryer meant fish and chips (the only choice available to me on the bar menu) were a choice to be avoided, so we relocated to another picnic table on the opposite side of the hotel’s main door to the pricier restaurants. My aunt who lived in the region had mentioned crayfish and whitebait so my expectations were high, despite the malodorous chips. The former was sadly off the menu but for NZ$21 an entrée of whitebait could be had in a traditional egg fritter. While there was more omelettes to fish, it was a nostalgic taste of home. Whitebait for the uninitiated are small wormlike critters, caught in a fine net flung across a river. Being from fresh water they have a very mild flavour. Don’t confuse them with the dirty variety, sourced from Thailand that can sometimes be had in Melbourne, or the small fish variety that Aussies give the same name to.

The SE had ‘Pacific marinated fish’. White fish, swimming in lashings of coconut milk with cucumber, coriander and a dash of lime. More a soup the way it was served but pleasant none the less.

In between we had a jug of Radler and watched the sun ebb closer to the Marlborough Sounds. We requested at least a half hour between courses when we ordered and the kitchen honoured it, almost down to the minute.

For mains, not deterred by the menu description of a ‘tropical salsa’, I went for the fish of the day (red cod) pan fried, on coconut rice and a mango concoction of top. Surprisingly edible. I was concentrating on woofing it down, so now I have no memory of what the SE ate, something involving salmon I think.

Dessert was port – a generous serve filling a champagne flute and the remaining half of the peanut slab in my bag from the day before.


oops half way through before the pic was taken

The sunset was the best I’d seen for sometime, the sun not disappearing over the Sounds til well after 9pm. Crazy 'Ary's sunset bar in Gili Air would be able to scrape a living if their crimson skies lasted as long. New Zealand may not be the tropics but their latitude affords long summer nights.

The Lake Ferry Hotel, felt like the restaurant at the end of the universe but the food was passable (not so the bar food friends have warned me) and the service friendly, albeit unpaid (the amusing local wife of the English chef) who said “I’m just helping my husband out, he’ll start hollering for plates if no one clears the tables”). The accommodation though left a bit to be desired, with every sheet of flooring and door hinge squeaking, as it’s temporary residents made their way to the communal bathroom during the nights. The walls were also so thin that the room reverberated with the snoring coming from the next room (and that is no exaggeration).

After very little sleep we made our way to breakfast before it ended at 10am. The large communal table was set the night before (very noisily next to our room), offering a free continental with the tariff of the room. All that was left was the crust and final slice of the wholemeal bread, a few containers of honey, half a jug of milk and some cereal. Instant coffee, no juice – we decided it was time to head back to civilisation for a long black with something eggy.

Verdict: Try the seafood but the sunset is the biggest winner.



Lake Ferry Hotel
South Wairarapa Coast
Telephone 06 307 7831
Website http://lakeferryhotel.co.nz (with little useful info but pretty pictures)

Link: More absurdities from the Lake Ferry Hotel at other rants

tasting New Zealand

Monteith’s Radler bier

It’s got to be hot for me to want a beer. Let’s be honest, when I say ‘beer’ it’s inevitably a shandy – a lager with just a dash of lemonade. I don’t know why as I am not that keen on sweet drinks but there is something about the lemony-ness that I enjoy. Hot days in Wellington are a rare thing. Surprisingly we had quite a string of these delightful days. The first of which found us in the small courtyard of a suburban brewery bar. The sun beat down on us and it was declared ‘beer o’clock’ but what to drink in this foreign land?



The unusually efficient barman told us to not worry – he’d bring us a sampler to the table and thus begun a pleasant relationship with the Radler. A fruity lager, with a hint of lemon and lime and just a dash of sweetness. I liked it so much that I sampled it on many occasions, to the point that “I’m Radled” became a constant cry.



Another Wellington surprise

When having a drink in the sun (Monteith’s Khandallah, St John’s Bar) at some point a barperson will appear with sunblock. You need it too, with sun that beats down stronger than the thermometer implies. A great twist on ‘drink responsibly”.

Schoc chocolates

Oh boy – I need to discover a new chocolate obsession like I need a hole in my head. I was a little nonplussed when I approached the cute cottage on the outskirts of Greytown offering ‘chocolate therapy’. I admit it, I am a chocolate snob and I really doubted that small town New Zealand would be able to deliver something other than sickly little callebaut knock offs. But just one look at the single country of origin tablets in varying percentages of cocoa mass (including one 100%) and a taste of the vast array of dairy-free 53% flavours and I was hooked. (Sure they do truffles and dairy milk ones as well).

Favourites included: Limechilli, Lemon and Cracked Black Pepper, Rose, Sea Salt and toasted coconut but really, I could eat the lot.

Oh dear – I’ve just discovered Schoc chocs are available in this part of the world.



Nostalgia

Not up to Schoc standards but purely for nostalgia I gave into a Whittaker’s peanut slab now available in a dark, dairy-free version. At high school I could nibble a peanut slab through recess, stringing it out for 20 minutes. On the nostalgia trip I took over 24 hours to get through one. Thanks for the memories Whittaker’s.



Fish and Chips

It begun innocuously enough on day 2 when I popped in for a quick visit to see some friends who produced a bag of fish and chips for afternoon tea. Afternoon tea?! I had a little nibble of the very passable chips and a bit of fish from a place in Karori. Unfortunately a couple of days later, after helping another friend move house, all that was on offer on a public holiday in her neighbourhood was a much more inferior version. Strangely 1 serve of fish equalled 3 pieces, quite a common thing I was to discover. Despite Island Bay being by the sea, it’s fish is nothing to write home about. But worse was to come. I won’t even utter the name of the local ‘fisherman’s’ chain that I was taken to the next day. The salad bar comes in a boat and under such circumstances the old faithful fish and chips or burger was a marginally better option.

For a dairy-free, no-meat girl in NZ fish and chips becomes the default option. So many vegetarian dishes are laden with milk products, it is a nightmare. Fortunately the final dose of F&C, once more the only thing I could eat on a bar menu, came at the upmarket Martinborough Hotel, perfect chips and a good tartare sauce which I washed down with, you guessed it, a Radler.

Hopefully I’ll not have to face a plate of fish and chips again this year, or at least til my next trip home at Easter!

More smoked seafood than you can poke a stick at

New Zealand is smoked food heaven (though smoked tofu still isn’t readily available). In most good supermarkets there is a wide variety of seafood lovingly smoked – mussels, eel, kingfish, cod, NZ salmon and much more.  It always inspires me to make kedgeree.

I discovered Chow, a better than average chain of Asian restaurants which I have previously mentioned, has a great smoked fish salad which I managed to make a fair copy* of for New Years Eve, though the smoked eel rolls packed less of a punch.

On a less fishy note, another discovery at Chow was the Kaffe Eis sorbet served with saffron syrup. The passionfruit was a real stand out.

One last bit of food nostalgia

The Significant Eater did a valiant Tour of Duty, helping me with my family visit. I think after his recent effort I am to be replaced in the will. My parents are committed carnivores, while their surviving offspring are not. The SE however jumped at the chance to make them a roast with premium kiwi lamb. Scouring the ’70’s era cookbooks he came across a simple marinade of a scant amount of olive oil and red wine, then slowly cooked the lamb the next day at 160c. Complete with spuds, kumara, onions and pumpkin caramelising in the juices of the roast (us vegetarian girls cooked ours separately) he added the Italian touch of a heap of simple salads on the side. Mum knocked up some fresh mint sauce (mint, sugar, malt vinegar) while I resurrected a decades old skill by making the gravy - it was perfect and looked so good I only just resisted sticking my finger in for a taste. It turned our smooth and glossy, with a perfect lump-free texture and all that stirring was a pleasant, therapeutic almost, experience. It was a memorable meal.




* Kiwi New Years Eve Smoked Fish Salad

smoked Kingfish fillets (or similar firm fish)
a generous handful of Asian herbs eg: coriander, Vietnamese mint (or mint and basil)
rocket or salad mix
cucumber, sliced
cherry tomatoes
spring onion, sliced on the diagonal
red chilli, finely sliced

Toss together with a dressing made from fish sauce, lime juice and a little palm sugar.

bully beef and biscuits

It appears I am not the first in the family to have a fascination with food. My paternal Grandfather bet me to it, as a soldier in WWI. His diary of his time in the army records memorable meals as well as is distain for the bully beef and biscuits, the standard rations at the Front.

His journal shows he spent more time ill or convalescing, than as a Runner in France. From joining up in early 1916, to the end of the war – outside training, he spent barely 6 months at the Front. His career in the New Zealand Rifle Brigade saw the majority of his time in hospital or classified unfit for active duties. But perhaps the food had something to do with it? A few weeks into his journey to England on the troop ship, he was the 75th on board to get the measles. This is the first time food really enters the picture. He wrote:

Meals good while in H(ospital). Breakfast – porridge, fish and bread and jam, tea. Beef tea in morning or lemon drink. Dinner – soup, fish, tripe and onions, custard or sago, bread and honey. Barley water in afternoon. Tea jelly and bread and jam Cocoa and biscuits for supper

Fortunately he managed to avoid getting meningitis that was also doing the rounds on the ship, or the scarlet fever that caused his hut at Sling Camp to be quarantined. After a few weeks of training in trench warfare, the boys in the 4th Reserves were ready to ship out. Perhaps it was the recent measles but his heart and/or eyes failed the medical and he was bitterly disappointed to see his mates ship off across the Channel without him. Despite two attempts to send him home, which he hotly protested, they finally gave in and sent him into active duty many months after the others that he had arrived with. But not before Christmas day at camp:

Breakfast fish, (unreadable) and bacon, fried onions and mashed potatoes. Dinner Turkey, Goose, cauliflower, potatoes and peas and stuffing, plum pudding and brandy sauce, nuts, fruit, oranges, apples, bananas. Tea roast pork, fruit salad and Devonshire cream, chocolate and bulls eyes, mince pies. Supper ham, cheese, biscuits.

Not quite a blogger but you got the feeling that young Bill liked his food. By Boxing Day he’d come down with a cold and forwent his final few days of leave to stay in bed with a fever of 100 F. Perhaps it was all the food – as they say “If you feed a cold, you will starve a fever”.

While in and out of the front lines he endured the coldest day in France since 1895, “black frost completely frozen bread etc. All time a bully beef and biscuit now”. Parcels from home relieved the monotony of the tinned meat. The odd cake and shortbread that travelled 2 months from home to the Front, went down a treat.

In his diary the only mention of not eating came less than a month after Christmas, with the line “dysentery…very bad could not eat.” The diary goes quiet for weeks after that, til he was cheered up with a dose of mumps that got him sent to the ‘St Omer Mumps Hospital’. “During time in hospital had good time and food good”. The 2 weeks or so away from the shelling, rats and bully beef did wonders for his spirit. A month later, back at Messines he was hit in the foot by shrapnel which had him evacuated back to England where he convalesced in hospital til after the Armistice, 17 months later.

Bill managed to live to see his 70th birthday. He was a keen gardener and grew many of his own vegetables. Shortly into his 8th decade a bus fatally knocked him down, on his way home from a day at the races. I can bet his last meal wasn’t bully beef and biscuits.

even more eating in Wellington

Another mad dash across the Tasman to attend to family affairs. In 4 days I managed to cram in 2 birthdays, a 2 part breakfast on the same morning, eat 3 other meals in Asian restaurants, a lunch at the wonderfully quirky Maranui SLS Café and cook 2 dinners.

One old favourite stood out - Kazu in Tory St, is a better than average mid-priced Japanese restaurant. By Australian standards, even before you get the benefit of the dollar difference, it is very good value for money. The sushi was tender, as was the calamari with miso and garlic. The tempura included pieces of fish and 2 discs of a vegetable and shrimp medley which got full marks. Our final dish of eel on rice appeared as a large fillet of teriyaki eel which was tasty and generous. If we’d had room for it, one of the specials – a vegetarian sharing plate (NZ$18 for 2) was very tempting.


sushi at Kazu

I have mixed feelings about Ernesto (Cuba Street). A member of the Havana/Fidel’s empire, I keep going back for more. I like the feel of the place, light and spacious with art and wood. This kind of look wouldn’t be out of place in Melbourne. There is table service, which varies from professional to haphazard. When it is good, it is very, very good – but in half a dozen excursions (for breakfast, lunch and dinner) in the past 9 months – I still can’t put my finger on what is missing. Mostly the food is great, though the cornbread with roasted tomatoes, mushrooms and spinach is a touch on the small side. The coffee is reliable, as it is in most Wellington establishments these days. Something just doesn’t add up – but not so badly that I don’t go back to check them out every now and then.

As for cooking, I hope to be back on the horse any day now.