On to Furneau Lodge

The next morning was even more warm and brilliant than the day before. I was tempted to just hang out at Resolution Bay for the rest of our stay. But we’d drank almost all our booze, and there was nowhere to buy more until the next lodge, so we had to keep going.

We threw together breakfast using fresh laid eggs from the owner’s chickens (lovely except for the one with the half-formed chicken in it. Ugh. But that’s the price you pay for real eggs, I guess). I made a makeshift frittata using leftover rice, the last of some cumin-seeded cheese from our feast the day before, and fresh cherry tomatoes, and seasoned it all with Manuka-smoked salt.

Properly fortified, and only a little embarrassed at leaving a pile of empty wine and beer bottles behind (could three of us really have drunk all that? Maybe Canadians do drink more than Kiwis), we headed back on the trail.

Our hike was longer than the day before, but less of a climb. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking. At first I felt like I was hiking in British Columbia along the coastline, until I realized that the wild bush in New Zealand looks far more like a jungle, with giant vines and fern trees, than anything I would see in BC. And the little bays and inlets had a brilliant turquoise gleam to them, more like the tropics than anything in Canada. I marveled my way along the trail, trying to discern the strange bird calls and gaping at the giant fiddleheads on the tree ferns—and wondering, are they edible?

A Two-Day Tramp

Early the next morning, we made our way to the water taxi that was going to drop us off at Ship’s Cove to begin the “roughing it” part of our journey. May I note that “roughing it” for us on the Queen Charlotte Track involved packing a whole fish, steaks, various side dish ingredients, four bottles of wine and two six-packs of beer into coolers, handing it to the water taxi driver, and telling him which cottage along the track at which to drop it.

So we were dropped off at Ship’s Cove to complete a not-too-strenuous 5km walk, while our various bags and food boxes were delivered to our destination. We met up with some interesting Americans from Boulder, Co, and as we philosophized our way down the trail (stopping for a Monteith’s Radler at the peak—did I mention it’s legal to drink in public in New Zealand? It just keeps getting better. And by the way, lemon-lime flavoured beer is refreshing on a hike), we were hailed by a British lady, who asked, “And where are you wonderfully philosophical people from?” We later hung onto that exchange, because from then on we had to defend against surly Kiwis who assumed we were American (and in New Zealand, this is not a good thing).

Our arrival at Resolution Bay came quickly. The cottages here, while having no power or any kind of heating, were equipped with gas-powered hot water, fridge and stove. We pulled out our lunch items, dry Italian salami, baguette, roasted red pepper hummus, the last of the fig and walnut roll (yay!) and a variety of cheeses. Crystal and Jeff know we like blue cheese, so they separately purchased blue brie and blue cheddar. This was in no way a problem for me.

While I’d intended the red wines that we’d brought for our steak dinner (not happening until tomorrow), we decided that a beautiful sunny day on a warm deck was a suitable time to open one of them. And besides, there was a pub at the next lodge along the track, so we could always restock tomorrow.

The Te Kairanga Syrah relaxed nicely in the sun, and so did we. We ended up snacking and sipping for a good two hours—and the next bottle of red wine ended up getting opened as well.

We needed to work off the wine and cheese at that point, so headed to the docks to watch the fish below, and then took some kayaks out for a paddle. Somehow that was enough to make us hungry again, so we set the fish to bake, stuffed with fresh lemon balm and parsley from the resort owner’s herb garden, and a fresh lemon picked right off the tree near our cottage.

By the end of the evening, we’d polished off the last two bottles of white wine (of special note was the Kim Crawford unoaked chardonnay—buttery without being heavy like some chardonnays. I think unoaked chardonnays are my favourite dry white wine). We hadn’t solved all the world’s problems, but close.

The Ferry to Picton

Despite dire warnings from our creepy hotel owner about a nasty southerly wind threatening to make our ferry crossing absolute hell, the day stayed relatively calm.

Despite dire warnings from Jody’s cousin regarding the quality of food we could expect on the ferry, I was pleased to have some more Mac’s draft (especially one called “Sassy Red”), and even more pleased to be able to carry my pint anywhere on the ferry. And when the food selection includes a Vegemite and cheese sandwich, what more could I desire? As long as it’s authentic, it doesn’t have to be fancy. I was happy enjoying my little sandwich and some of the freshest tasting Eta brand “crisps” (potato chips) I’d ever sampled.

Speaking of freshness, I feel compelled to comment on the quality of even the most basic candy in New Zealand. Chocolate bars, for example, are made fairly locally, as in Australia or New Zealand. So while the Snickers bar I’m used to is produced somewhere in North America (the New Jersey turnpike, maybe?), New Zealand chocolate bars are made locally, with the fresh and delicious dairy products they produce right here. And you can definitely taste the difference. Kelly’s Snickers bar tasted like no other Snickers bar I’d ever sampled. Ah, when even the simplest pleasures are more enjoyable…

Another quick note on the impressions that Kiwis and Canadians hold about each other’s drinking prowess. Crystal and Jeff’s friend Nick seemed quite impressed with our various stories of growing up in Canada. “It sounds like all you guys do is drink—and I say goodonya!” He thinks Canadians drink more than kiwis. I couldn’t really argue, until I experienced the bar on the ferry. When I stopped in for a bottle of water after last call, when port was only 20 minutes away, I came upon a rollicking good time. I was reminded of a bar in Saskatchewan after last call—except that it was only 9PM, but the ferry was docking soon. Every table that wasn’t filled with people was filled with pints of beer waiting to be drunk by the nearby tables full of revelers. I suddenly felt inadequate, having only enjoyed one pint during the three-hour ferry ride.

We managed one more pint in Picton once we’d met Jeff at our hotel. Sadly, Crystal had to work the weekend. The three of us promised to have a great time on her behalf.

The Depths of the Carillon

We visited the New World Market, and found everything we needed for dinner in one place. Once again, I marveled at how cheap fresh fish and produce is here. The prepared stuff seems to be more pricey, but we were going as fresh and local as possible.

I picked up some giant green-lipped mussels for less than $3.00 a kilogram, tomatoes, mesclun mix, fresh herbs, fancy $7 /250mL Village Press olive oil, a salt and pepper grinder, fresh pasta, parmesan cheese and fresh berries for dessert. All for around $40. And remember that’s $30 Canadian. That’s much more affordable than our dinners out. Jody grabbed some white wine, and we were good to go.

My first impression at the Carillon’s commercial kitchen was that it was creepy, but very cool, and had everything I could need. At closer inspection, it was less so. There didn’t appear to be any decent knives, and there was no tea towel to be found anywhere. Where I’d thought that there were unlimited pots and pans to choose from, I realized that most of them had been burned out on the uber-powerful gas range. All I had to cook pasta in was one small saucepan.

The wok, which I’d figured would work for the mussels, appeared on closer inspection to have accumulated a whole other layer of grime on top of the cast iron. I tried not to think about it as I began chopping.

In the meantime, Kelly and Jody set to work to heat up the dining room by lighting a fire in the wood stove. With great patience and cunning (there was no kindling to be found), they managed to get it going. I managed to fit the pasta into the little pot, and got the mussels started.

We set the table with whatever mismatched plates and cutlery we could find, and marveled at the cupboards and freezer full of unknown bags of things that may belong to current tenants at the Carillon, or to people who had left an unknown length of time ago. It had the feeling of a midden, which you could study for years to learn about the Carillon inhabitants.

While other tenants came down to boil water for noodle dishes (that’s all anyone else appeared to use the kitchen for—and probably with good reason), I pulled off mussels marinara on fresh tagliatelle and a mesclun salad topped with Parmesan and lemon and olive oil dressing. It all turned out remarkably well, and we enjoyed it with our wine in the dimly lit and eerily quiet dining room. When we had cleaned up, I took one last look at the empty kitchen…and shuddered.

I’m still glad we cooked there—what’s life without a little adventure?

Te Papa and General Snacking

We met Jody at a café called Deluxe, where his friend Pete works—a great option for a late breakfast. Everything looked both healthy and creative, and the coffee was delicious. I couldn’t take my eyes off the roast pumpkin, brie and rosemary ricotta pie. Kelly couldn’t decide between a black olive, feta, corn and herb muffin (they do many savoury muffins here) and the quinoa cake, so he ordered both. It was all scrumptious.

We spent the next several hours wandering through the Te Papa museum. It’s so big, we only got through two floors before needing a break. We’re going back to finish the last two floors tomorrow.

By that time, we needed some refreshment, so we stopped at a pub for a beer, and Kelly, the only one of us who was really hungry, decided to try the bangers and mash in Wellington to see how they compared with the ones in Christchurch. His pronouncement: "The Bard's bangers are better."

Shopping was followed by another urge to sit down and take stock of what to do for dinner. So we went back to Floriditas to sample their elderflower and rose martini. Very aromatic and delicious. And we decided over that drink to brave the creepy kitchen at our hotel that night and eat in.

More LOTR and Meeting Jody

Wednesday (Nov. 29) was another tour day. I think we had had the tour to end all tours the weekend before, so we didn’t enjoy this one as much. It made for a very long day (over 9 hours of driving). We did see the film site for Rivendell, and the rock quarry where Minis Tirith was staged, but all that’s left is a rock quarry, so it wasn’t all that exciting. But the scenery along the way was breathtaking, as usual.

Lunch was more meat pie. Kelly was in his glory. “I even enjoy watching other people choose their pies!” After lunch we drove out to an extremely windy point at Palliser Bay to harass some fur seals and stopped at Te Kairanga winery to sample their wares. The focused mostly on Pinot Noirs, and these ones were more similar to the North American ones, which means they were a little tinny and watery, and I opted for a 2002 Syrah to take home instead of any of the Pinots. So the jury is still out on NZ Pinots. Maybe I just like the cheap ones that don’t taste like Pinot.

After a brief nap, we headed out to meet our Kiwi friend Jody who had come to Wellington to spend some time with us. We were reunited at the Matterhorn, a restaurant and bar on Cuba street that supposedly was voted the best bar in Wellington, so I needed to check it out.

The cocktail list was lengthy, but I didn’t see anything unfamiliar or super intriguing. I decided on a Prince of Wales, a champagne cocktail with cognac, Benedictine and a squeeze of orange. Kelly went for a French 75, served here with gin, sugar, lemon juice and sparkling wine (I’ve had a French 75 before with cognac, though, so I guess it depends on the bar you’re in).

While catching up with Jody, we ordered a series of “bowls,” low priced little dishes to enjoy at the bar: black olives with oranges and fennel, grilled garlic bread, organic feta fried with gorse honey and thyme flowers (the best fritter I think I’ve ever tasted), broad bean fritters with fresh yoghurt cheese (also a good fritter, but very close in flavour to a falafel, which isn’t my favourite), cumin crusted calamari with lemon and crispy spinach, and spiced pork and garlic fingers with wood roast pimiento yoghurt. It was a wonderful blend of locally grown produce and dairy, and probably would have been enough food all on its own.

But oh, no. We had to order more. I hadn’t been keeping up my promise to eat as many oysters as possible on this trip, so I went for half a dozen rock oysters “bathed in seaweed, ginger, bonito flake dressing.” They were excellent, briny with a creamy center that didn’t overwhelm me—or even gross me out! And since neither Jody or Kelly were oyster schluckers, I had them all to myself.

We picked some more locally produced food as our main courses. Some of the options were even animals that were considered pests—I figure it’s better to eat them than to just poison them, as long as you can keep the two separate. Kelly opted for the seared game hare (the pest) fillet with shredded turnip and bacon cake on truffled green beans and a Cumberland glaze. I had the mustard and dill roast pork on spiced kumara (local sweet potato) hash with broad beans (yay, more favas!), belly bacon lardons and tart apple molasses.

The flavours were complex and the presentation creative. Kelly wasn’t sure about the hare, or the Cumberland sauce. I helped him out with his truffled beans when he was full. My pork dish was very nicely put together—I will never complain about having fava beans and bacon, nor hashed sweet potato. And the pork was delicious.

Unfortunately, we were too full for dessert, and there were some that took my breath away. The cheese selections were all served with sweet sides reminiscent of the fig and date loaf we had at Mt. Somers: blue cheese with pear paste; Brie with grape syrup or fig molasses. Gouda with fresh date pâté.

I also salivated at the white chocolate, rosewater and pistachio praline mousse with green apple sorbet and date molasses. That probably would have been delicious. Damn my physical limitations (i.e. full belly)!

First Night in Wellington

We’ve moved on to Wellington for a few days, and our quaint and slightly bizarre hotel just off Cuba Street, despite its saggy bed, is serving us very well. It’s called the Carillon, and it appears to be a tired old mansion that is now a combination of longer term apartments and short term hotel rooms. Remnants of its history remain in a lounge area and a deserted ‘brasserie’.

But that’s why I was excited about coming here, because while there is no restaurant, the commercial kitchen is still intact, and guests are welcome to use it. While the old kitchen and the little side rooms are kind of creepy, I still love the idea that I can wander out to a market, pick up some fresh goods, and make dinner in an old restaurant kitchen.

But not tonight! Tonight and tomorrow night we’ll be out on the town. So we dropped off our stuff and wandered down to Cuba Street to see what we could find.

We found a gem. Floriditas is a Spanish/Cuban inspired all day restaurant that serves something for everyone, whether you’re looking for a snack and a drink, morning coffee and a muffin, or a full-blown meal. I was drawn in by the offering, under “snacks,” of paprika toasted almonds and a Papirusa sherry, listed together for $10. I love the idea of my restaurant pairing food and a drink for me. It helps create a more complete experience.

So I ordered my almonds and sherry, and Kelly went for the fries and tarragon Bearnaise (oh to always be able to think of fries as crispy little delicacies to be dipped in citrus and anise-flavoured butter sauce!). We then decided to share an order of clams in white wine sauce, as well as a light main course. I chose the hapuka (some kind of white fish), cucumber ribbon and herb salad with verjuice dressing. Verjuice, the raw, unripe grape juice from wine grapes, was on my ‘to try’ list on this trip, as it’s usually only available in restaurants in wine making regions. Kelly went for the chargrilled lamb, rocket leaves, feta and green ‘Atlas’ olives. To match, I chose a Dog Point Sauvignon Blanc, and Kelly opted for a Martinborough Pinot Noir—to further do our duty in testing New Zealand pinots.

The pinot was certainly more full-bodied than the North American ones, so it further proved the point that New Zealand’s pinots don’t necessarily behave the same as ours. The sauvignon blanc was light and citrusy, and balanced very well with my cucumber and herb salad.

Everything was delicious, and we were ravenous. The clams, while almost too salty, made up for it with fresh Italian parsley and loads of garlic. My fish dish was beautifully fresh and subtle. What could be simpler than adding lemon and dill to fish and cucumber? So natural and delicious. Kelly’s lamb dish was robust in flavour, also working well with his wine. Each bite brought a new explosion of flavour as all the ingredients came together in one earthy, spicy, briny whole.

We’d made sure to leave room for dessert—I had my eye on the cinnamon donuts paired with drinking chocolate. They were styled after Mexican churros, but made hot and fresh, so their crispy-creaminess was at its finest. It was a blissful finish to my meal. Kelly’s dessert was far fancier, more subtle, but just as lovely: Manuka honey mousse with toffee pistachio sprinkles. Oh so silky and sweet.

Stuffed and happy, we wandered back to our hotel.

My Faith in My Country is Shaken

November 28, 2006 will go down in my memory as the day my belief that Canada is the best country in the world was profoundly shaken. The cause of the upset? Two words: Vom Fass.

In German, Vom Fass means “from the barrel.” It is also the name of a bulk ‘nectar of the gods’ chain that we stumbled upon in Christchurch. We walked into a little store where large decanters lined the walls from floor to ceiling. On another wall were little oak barrels, fitted with taps. Further back were other little oak barrels. What was in them? Bulk scotch in the little barrels. Bulk liqueurs of every imaginable origin filled the decanters. Further back in the store were the various edible oils and vinegars, and the wine and port taps. All available in 100mL to 1L volumes to take home. After you’d sampled several, of course.

I made a stop at each little kiosk to soak it all in (so to speak). Some of the scotch barrels looked familiar (I noted Bowmore from Islay, for example). Others I’d never heard of. Brandies and cognacs were also available.

The oil and vinegar selection included several flavoured olive oils and styles of balsamic vinegar, but it also included oils of almond, walnut, rose, evening primrose, and more. All in little barrels ready to be sampled.
The liqueur wall was most impressive, boasting (to name only a very few), limoncello, orangina (like spiked orange Crush—not my favourite), sherries, and liqueurs made from sour cherries, black currants, herbs, elderflowers, plums and spices, as well as cream liqueurs, of which the gingerbread cream was Kelly’s new favourite.

Why did this shake my faith in Canada, you ask? Because if I could choose another career other than the one I currently have, I would be deliriously happy making liqueurs and selling them in pretty little bottles in volumes as large or small as my customers desire.

But this will never happen. Because #1, bulk liquor does not exist in Canada, except maybe in Quebec. Buying a 66 oz bottle of cheap rye and refilling your 26 oz. bottles of higher end rye doesn’t count. #2, I live in Saskatchewan (happily so, most of the time), where the production and sale of liquor is tightly regulated. I couldn’t get my liqueurs licensed, and I couldn’t sell them from my own store.

Curses!

I was distracted for the rest of the day, cursing this situation. I’m almost tempted to move here and open my own franchise. Except I’d make my own instead of importing them from Europe. And mine would taste better.

A Lesson on Eating in English Pubs

While having lunch at the Bard on Avon pub in downtown Christchurch, I discovered the best way to garner maximum enjoyment of pub food with a minimum of gastronomic discomfort: dine with individuals who have high metabolisms, large appetites and a generous disposition. Order something light for yourself (in my case, a warm lamb salad, which provided me with my fix of NZ lamb as well as fresh vegetables), and then pick off the plates of your dining companions.

Using this method, I got to sample both the red wine venison casserole and the best bangers’n’mash I’d ever tasted—both of which went way better with my beer than my salad—without being so full I could barely walk at the end of lunch. Kelly and Jeff, on the other hand, were in a bit of discomfort and in desperate need of a nap. I felt great!

Hari Krishna Yoga (and 3-Course Dinner)

"Hey Noelle, do you guys want to do yoga on Monday?"
"Sure!"
"There's a one hour yoga class and then they serve a three course vegetarian meal."
"SURE!!"

I'd never had the pleasure of meeting Hari Krishnas before. And if they are willing to provide a drop-in yoga class plus food for $15, they will always be friends of mine. I've also never done yoga in a venue where you can smell food cooking the whole time--a bit distracting, I must say.

After a fairly challenging class, we found ourselves in the restaurant with a dahl-style soup full of cumin seeds, followed by a plate full of butter chicken-style beans and tofu, sesame potatoes, rice, (slightly gritty) salad, and pakoras with chutney.

The restaurant, Govinda's, is open at lunches for cheap meals, but is closed for dinner most nights of the week to do the yoga/dinner combo. It's a fantastic deal. Crystal says there's another Hari Krishna restaurant across the street that serves meals for $5, and it's very good. It's a nice balance to throw in some exercise and an almost free meal in between $100 lunches.

Wine and Cheese by the Fire

We had all of the delicacies I’d picked up at Rare Fare for dinner that night, so while drinking a glass of Sacred Hill Brut with strawberries, we did minimal slicing of sausage, roasting of smoked garlic, baking of smoked eel, and preparing a simple fava bean and asparagus salad, dressed with olive oil we’d picked up in San Francisco, and supper was ready shortly.



We all enjoyed the pickled green walnuts, which mostly just tasted like pickles with a creamy texture and a very slightly nutty undertone. I couldn’t get enough of the hard sheep’s cheese and the fig and walnut loaf, which we sliced like a sausage and served on crackers. The smoked venison salami had a distinct Saskatchewan summer sausage flavour and texture to it. It was certainly familiar, but I was expecting something drier, more similar to an Italian salami.

The Evansdale Blue cheese was the biggest hit. It was so mild, it almost didn’t taste like blue cheese. It too went well with the fig and walnut loaf.

We washed down our tasty morsels with some Wairave River Pinot Noir, which sparked an interesting discussion on wine. Everyone enjoyed it, but for different reasons. Kelly and I noticed it had way more colour and body than any of the Pinots we’d tried in San Francisco. It had lots of berry flavour, and was quite smooth, where I find many of the American Pinots young-tasting and often watery or metallic.

Jeff and Crystal enjoyed it because it wasn’t as overpowering as other Pinots they’d tried in New Zealand. Jeff explained that they stay away from Pinots in general because they’re too overpowering, which has never been my impression of a Pinot where we come from. This requires further testing to come to a final conclusion on New Zealand Pinot Noirs.

We wandered through the garden to Warren and Marita’s to watch the scenes from LOTR that included the locations we’d visited today. A windy day outdoors caught up with us by 10:00, and we collapsed into bed—and may I say, while New Zealand homes don’t appear to be (at all) insulated, their use of electric blankets and hot water bottles is a cozy alternative.

On to Edoras

Our tour guide from Tussock and Beech tours (highly recommended, info at www.nature.net.nz) arrived at 9AM, so after a quick breakfast of toast and preserves (Kelly fell in love with the marmalade), we were off. The scenery was fantastic, and Warren, our guide, a former teacher with a background in botany and geography, really knew his stuff.

After a few scenic views, we stopped for tea at a little “batch”, or shanty-style cabin at a summer resort before continuing on to Mount Sunday, the former film site for the city of Edoras in Lord of the Rings. The mountain looked like a little bump on a flood plain when we saw it from a distance. It turned out to be a bit of a hike—or tramp, as they call it in New Zealand—that included our first real river crossing.

Warren got us all set up, and we crossed without incident—until our return, when Crystal’s sandal came off in the current, and after a brief moment of indecision, Jeff made the potentially unwise choice to abandon Crystal in the current and go running downstream after the shoe. I wasn’t sure whether Crystal was grateful for getting her shoe back, or upset at being left to her own devices in the middle of a raging river. Remarkably, everyone managed to get across safe and sound, with shoes intact. And Crystal appeared to be still speaking to Jeff.

We climbed to the top of Mount Sunday, a surprisingly easy walk, and marveled at the 360 degree view from the peak. Besides our LOTR fix, we also helped Warren rebuild a little cairn that had been placed over the grave of the station-owner’s favourite sheep dog, which someone had dismantled to build their own cairn on the rocks. It felt good to be able to put it right.

While we were on the hill, the wind started to pick up. Warren explained that the southerly wind had just switched to a Nor’wester—both involve up to 100km winds; but the Nor’wester is warmer and wetter than the southerly. We could see a dust storm heading down the river valley, so we headed back, and after the shoe mishap, got out of our wet clothes/footwear and moved on to a more sheltered location for lunch.

Lunch was an event—and almost made me wish we hadn’t decided to cook for ourselves while at the cottage. Warren’s wife Marita was a great cook and baker. Lunch was a picnic of sparkling wine, tea sandwich rolls filled with canned asparagus (simple but delicious) and puff pastry ‘pizza’ with pesto, tomatoes and feta. We followed that with some light and crunchy cornflake (I think) cookies and “cinnamon oysters”—mini spice cakes split in half and filled with sweet cream. After some fruit and tea, we were ready to continue our journey with full bellies and satisfied grins.

We made a few more view stops for Kelly to take photos before ending up back at our cottage around 5:00.

Mt. Somers and Ross Cottage (November 25)

We were slow (as usual) to get started on our little adventure, but we finally got out of the city around 2:30, with a trunk full of cheese, meat pies, wine and beer. After a leisurely stop at Castle Hills (a magical karst limestone landscape that looks like a castle ruin), we arrived at our home for the next two days: Ross Cottage.

“This kitchen is better equipped than mine!” exclaimed Crystal, as we loaded our “self-catering” food into it. There was even a pantry full of homemade preserves: crabapple quince jelly, raspeberry jam, marmalade, canned fruit, all for our use—and cookies in the cookie jar. We settled in to our little 130 year old cottage with great pleasure.

Our tour guides who were taking us out on a tour the next day, stopped in to say hello. We built a fire and enjoyed some Monteith’s original and black ales (similar to Guinness in colour, and nutty and spicy like a stout, but without the creamy heavienses. Sort of the best of both worlds—all the taste, none of the heaviness). The original ale was brewed in the style of a pale ale, and at 4% alcohol content, it went down almost too easily.



Crystal and I focused mostly on wine, sampling a Vicar’s Choice Merlot that went very nicely with our meat pies. Kelly and Jeff thought the beer was also a good choice. My favourite was the satay chicken, with its creamy, peanutty curry sauce and vegetables--and perhaps similarity to my favourite soup. The steak pies (plain, steak and mushroom, steak and cheese) were also delicious—tender chunks of beef swam in a sweet, oniony gravy.

The plain mince pie lacked a certain something when it was compared to the steak pies. Most of us agreed that the chicken with cream cheese, apricots and cashews, while innovative and delicious, was really more of a dessert. With a little salad for balance, we sat by the fire a while longer before calling it a night.

Meat Pies

We discovered some of Jeff’s food passions while we were having breakfast at Drexel’s, New Zealand’s answer to the great American breakfast. First, he’s excited to find ‘drip coffee’ and bottomless service at Drexel’s (most coffee shops serve espresso only, and drip coffee is almost impossible to find, something that could shock and appall most Tim Hortons-addicted Canadians. Jeff’s coming home to Canada for Christmas, and visits to Tim’s are definitely on his itinerary).

Second, he loves meat pies. As soon as I’d heard that New Zealanders take pride in their meat pies, I knew we would have to try them. And since Kelly’s French-Canadian blood gives him a particular affinity toward meat in pastry, I knew we’d have to try them soon.

When we mentioned picking up some meat pies to take with us on our little overnight trek to Mt. Somers, Jeff’s eyes lit up. “Did you know,” he beamed, “that there was a great controversy over the quality of New Zealand’s meat pies? Some people tried to get away with producing the cheapest pies for the greatest mark-ups, so the government passed a law requiring there to be a certain percentage of meat in a pie in order to call it a ‘meat pie’.” Now that’s good government.

He went on to describe how he’s figured out that the potato-topped meat pies actually have more meat by far than the typical pastry pies, because potato is heavier than pastry, so in order to meet the percentage weight requirement for meat, they have to add even more. Jeff loves the potato tops.

We’ve now got a dozen little pies in our cooler ready for the trip. There’s steak and mushroom; mince and cheese; chicken, apricot, cream cheese and cashew; and, satay chicken. Let the meat pie gluttony begin! Between that and my little collection of gourmet cheeses etcetera, we will eat very well indeed.

Great Friends, Great Food

I can never appreciate enough having friends that I’ve known since before I can remember. Crystal and I have known each other since we were at least three years old. We’ve had many adventures together in high school, and again when we roomed together on and off during university. I was reminded again today how great it is to be hanging out with someone who really knows me.

I’d mentioned a few items I wanted to try while in NZ, like the pickled green walnuts. Crystal mentioned that she needed to pick up a few things for the bbq tonight, so we headed to a little food shop nearby, called Rare Fare.

I walked into the store and made an immediate beeline for the cooler that contained a great selection of cheeses and Manuka (a local tree) smoked venison salami and a tube of walnuts and figs pressed together like a pâté. I grabbed a blue cheese, a Brie-type cheese, and a harder sheep’s milk for a nice balance. We also discovered some Manuka smoked rock salt and Manuka smoked fresh garlic. That’s going to get roasted and enjoyed with the cheese.

Couldn’t find any green walnuts, but Crystal said, “We should just ask the woman at the counter.” The woman at the counter cheerfully answered, “Got ‘em!” And led me over to them. So there you have it!

We topped that off with some garlic-marinated black olives, and I think our picnic lunch for our trip to Mt. Somers tomorrow is just about ready.


Our "Meet the Canadians" BBQ was popular with the Kiwis for one very important reason: Jeff's homemade hamburgers. People here don't make burgers for BBQs, apparently, so the they're a hit. One more thing that we take for granted that we don't realize is unique to North America.

Downtown—and Chicken Satay Noodle Soup

While wandering downtown and exploring the Arts Centre, an artisans’ collective, the open air craft market, and some of the souvenir shops, I discovered the Sampan House. It advertised satay chicken noodle soup.

Well, I’m closer to Vietnam than I would be in Saskatchewan, so I figured I’d better try this version of my favourite soup. So we stopped there for lunch. It was a curry-and-peanutty-garlicky broth with fat, fresh rice noodles, and a bit of kick. I’ve always tried to re-discover my favourite chicken satay noodle soup from Vancouver, and this wasn’t as thick, but the flavour notes were certainly there.

With a full belly, my jetlag caught up with me, and we were ready to head back home, but not before I checked out the menu offerings at a restaurant that claimed to be the best restaurant in New Zealand—Le Bon Bolli. It included a downstairs brasserie and an upstairs silver service restaurant.

The menu items on the silver service menu looked intriguing, but also a little pretentious and pricey: particularly the sorbet list for between courses, which included a raw prawn and scallop ice, and a beef tea with cognac sorbet. I would be curious to try those particular things, or I might try to make them myself someday, but they weren’t enough to convince me that I wanted to go for the silver service experience.

However, I wanted one of everything on the Brasserie menu. Many terrines and rillettes and hams and cheeses. Mental note: we must come back for dinner.

On to New Zealand

November 21/23 (when we landed in NZ)

The Air New Zealand in-flight magazine had all sorts of articles on wines in New Zealand—very exciting! I also read something interesting about pickled green walnuts (I must try them) and fishing for whitebait--tiny translucent minnow-type fish--and how to cook them (another must-try). We were reasonably well-fed on the plane, and while we coveted the “airbeds” in First Class, the flight was uneventful.

Upon arrival in NZ, though, even though we had been served breakfast in the middle of the night on the plane, Kelly leaped at the opportunity to say, “It’s time for ‘second breakfast!’” Let the Lord of the Rings quips begin.

Once we were reunited with Jeff and Crystal and had made our way through town to their house (getting used to driving on the wrong side of the road all the way), we did get to enjoy second breakfast of local bacon, brightly yolked eggs, pancakes and fresh, sweet strawberries. Yu-um.

We did a bit of driving around town, up along the rim of an ancient volcano (Kelly: "This could totally be the set for Weathertop!"), then stopped at the beach to explore a little cave before heading to my first NZ grocery store. It was here, when I saw more beautiful strawberries, that I decided to make dinner for Crystal that night, starting with a strawberry and spinach salad (I’ve been missing spinach, one of my favourite vegetables, since the whole depressing E.coli issue in North America. I swore on the plane that besides eating lots of oysters, I was also going to eat as much spinach as I could, while it was safe).

I had expected food to be more expensive in New Zealand, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I had a large bag full of fresh produce, including strawberries ($1.29/little bucket), purple asparagus, spinach, mushrooms, onions and lemons, for $8.00. I don’t know what I’m used to, but I wasn’t expecting to get a bag full of that much freshness for under $10. My fish experience was similar. I found a hunk of smoked ling cod at a little fish shop, enough for four generous portions, for $10. And did I mention that the exchange is 75 cents Canadian for 1 NZ dollar?

This seemed very reasonable to me—and it all came together, along with some Sacred Hill Chardonnay, to become our main course: seared smoked ling cod on a potato, pear and cheese galette, and rosemary-balsamic mixed vegetables (carrots, zucchini—or courgettes, as they call them here—onions, and mushrooms). It’s a good thing Crystal knows me well enough to step aside in her own kitchen and let me have my head.

Tomorrow Crystal’s hosting a “meet the Canadians” bbq, so we’ll meet some of their friends and then head out to a 1970s dance club for the evening. Dig it.

The Slanted Door/Ferry Building

November 21, 2006

What to do, or more importantly, what to eat the morning after Chez Panisse? After a night of dreams where I frantically tried to make choices about which wines out of an impossibly large selection I should learn about and try before I had to leave San Francisco. So sometimes, dreams imitate life.

After checking out of our hotel, and unanimously agreeing to NOT eat the hotel’s continental breakfast, I dragged Kelly down to the Ferry Building Market. We were starving—and overwhelmed by the selections of organic vegetables and fruits, free-range meats, locally produced olive oil, gourmet chocolates, and my personal favourite, the Cowgirl Creamery Artisan Cheese shop.

But this wasn’t getting us fed. I had an ulterior motive for being here—the Slanted Door restaurant was on Epicurious’ recommendations of locals’ favourites in San Fran, and it had said it was in or near the Ferry Building. My aimless wandering was an effort to find it. Eventually, I explained that to Kelly, and he became more inclined to follow my aimless wandering.

And it paid off! Out the back of the Ferry Building, there it was. And even though we dropped in right at lunchtime, they were able to squeeze us in.

Since we hadn’t yet had coffee, we ordered Vietnamese coffees, and then discovered the amazing beer and cider selections. Tons of Belgian beers, lambics (fruit beers) even, as well as a delicious sounding pear cider from France. Since the pear cider was only 4% alcohol, it was almost like juice, compared to the wine we’d been drinking. We ordered a bottle along with our coffees.

The Slanted Door serves small family-sized servings (as in, it’s not a serving size that would serve my family, but for two, it works quite well). We chose some vegetarian Imperial rolls, a jicama and grapefruit salad, pork and shrimp wonton noodle soup, and a crispy noodle dish with seafood and vegetables.

The Imperial rolls, served with lettuce leaves, noodles and dipping sauce, were earthy and delicious—lots of shitake mushrooms adding beefy flavour to the meatless rolls. The jicama and grapefruit salad, complete with purple cabbage and topped with candied pecans, was light and refreshing.

I was wondering whether ordering a basic wonton soup was kind of a cop-out. Nothing prepared me for this soup. What I thought were little fried tofu cubes turned out to be deep-fried pork belly: pure fat, with a crispy outer coating. I think pork fat should be used in more restaurants, with abandon—as they did here. And when combined with delicious broth, five-spice egg noodles, shrimp and green onion wontons, and tender pork slices, those little morsels of fatty goodness made up the best wonton soup I think I’ve ever tasted.

The seafood crispy noodles were good too, but my world had stopped at the wonton soup, so I had little room left for the noodles. We were stuffed and happy. So much so that we had no need to eat anything else, beyond a cup of fruit, before we got on the plane.

Back (Just) in Time for Chez Panisse

I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to drive to Monterey Bay to go to the aquarium on the day that we had reservations at Chez Panisse, my restaurant dream destination of all dream destinations. I think it’s because I like a challenge. 100 miles each way? Traffic on the 101? Risk of missing our reservation? Pah! It just gets the adrenalin pumping. Better for the appetite!

Let me first provide some context for the significance of this day. I don’t know when I heard about Chez Panisse—I think I noted that it was listed as number one in Gourmet Magazine’s top 50 places to eat in America. That piqued my interest, and I decided I should go there someday. Then I started reading about Alice Waters and her philosophies on food, and I knew I really needed to go there.

Kelly started buying me Chez Panisse cookbooks, and in the Preface to Chez Panisse Menus, Alice Waters wrote a line that brought tears to my eyes, and was subsequently framed as a gift from Kelly—and now hangs over my dining room table. It reads something like this: “Remember, your goal is to nourish and nurture the people who gather at your table. It is within this nourishing and nurturing process that I have found the greatest sense of accomplishment.”

Over the years, when I was having a bad day, I would go to chezpanisse.com and look at the weekly restaurant menu. There is one meal, served in two sittings daily, using the freshest, most sustainable local meat and produce possible. Each daily menu for the week is listed—and it’s updated every Saturday. I would read through the menu, salivate, be filled with yearning to go there, and at the same time, feel re-energized and set right.

So it’s not an understatement when I say that booking a reservation at Chez Panisse fulfills one of my life’s goals, which I have held for about the last six years.

So why did I decide to take a five hour drive as a day trip, the day that my dream would be fulfilled? I had faith. I hadn’t spent all these years waiting for this day to miss my reservation because I was stuck in traffic. So I risked getting stuck in traffic, because it just couldn’t happen like that.

While it was close, I’m happy to say it didn’t happen like that. Despite some considerable stress, we even managed to arrive early.

“Are you excited?” asked Kelly.

“Surprisingly, I’m pretty calm. I think I’ve been practicing eating at restaurants all these years just to prepare for this. I’m ready.”

And it was the easiest dining experience ever—we didn’t even have to order, since we were all getting the same set menu (for $50/person—Monday is the cheap night):

Salad of shellfish, fresh lima beans, and celery root with autumn lettuces
Quail stuffed with chard and currants; with pomegranate glaze, roasted cauliflower and stone-ground polenta
Hazelnut praline and chocolate ice cream bombe

We had some champagne to celebrate being there together, and also to toast Isaac’s new ascension to partner at his company. It was Agrapart & Fils blanc de blanc. Lovely bubbly.

Our server recommended wines to go with our meal, a surprisingly affordable French Sauvignon Blanc (Rouilly, I think, $32/bottle) that went beautifully with our seafood salad, and a less affordable Willamette Valley Pinot Noir (Evasham Wood, 2004) that I hadn’t tried at Copia the day before.

Thomas asked me later what taste points I had noted from the meal. I can’t say I had any that really stood out, although if pressed, I would have to say that the use of the leaves in the roasted cauliflower was surprisingly delicious. All I could really say was that, knowing what I know about the philosophy of the restaurant and the vision behind it, that it was exactly as beautiful a meal as I expected it would be, and it was the most natural thing in the world for us to be there talking and sharing and laughing while eating a truly nourishing and nurturing meal, served to us by happy servers, and surrounded by other tables of happy people.

While it truly did feel that natural and easy, like it wasn’t something I’d been dreaming of for years, but rather something I’d been doing every day of my life, I can’t say there weren’t times when my eyes rolled back into my head in pure pleasure.

The quail was the fattest, happiest quail I’d ever tasted. I’ve had tough, skinny little quail before—these ones were plump and tender, with a glossy sweet glaze and a nutty stuffing. The salad had scallops that just melted in my mouth, and I felt pure joy in tasting a salad of fava beans and celeriac in Berkeley in November. That’s putting seasonal ingredients in their proper place.

We shared a cheese selection before dessert that included more triple cream cheese, as well as a herbed goat cheese and a sweet-rinded sheep’s milk cheese from France. I sampled Nieport’s 1994 Colheita Tawny Port along with it, and then began moaning with every bite of cheese and sip of port. The combination gave me a small pain in my chest, not from a heart attack, but from tasting something so heart-breakingly delicious.

Now that I can say I’ve eaten at Chez Panisse, I’m not sure what will replace it as a goal to strive for, but I can say I feel whole and happy—there’s a little place in my heart that has been eased, like knowing that a friend is even more true and supportive than I ever could have hoped. Thanks again to Isaac and Alix for flying down to San Francisco to share it (speaking of true friends) and to Courtney and Thomas for being there and enjoying it as much as the rest of us.

Chez Panisse Day...but First, Monterey

November 20

The drive out to Monterey Bay was dramatic and scenic, and I was so excited to show Kelly. We stopped at a beach and watched the seabirds and surfers for a while, got our pants wet, and then carried on. We didn’t get to Monterey until 1:30, so I was already aware that time was tight to get back in comfortable time for our 8:30 reservation.

We needed to eat though. We got sucked into the Fish Hopper, a tourist-trappy restaurant just like the rest of the restaurants in Monterey, but guaranteed to have fresh seafood. It also offered a gorgeous view of the bay, where we were lucky enough to watch seals and otters frolicking in the waves.

I ordered an ocean salad—crab and two kinds of shrimp, along with avocado and mango. Kelly ordered the ‘ultimate’ seafood pasta, and we shared some crabcakes and a half bottle of Morgan chardonnay, from the Monterey region.

The seafood was fresh and plentiful—Kelly had more seafood in his pasta than pasta. Which almost made up for the price tag. We were warmed up for our upcoming Chez Panisse expenditures by a $100 lunch. Ouch.

Moneterey Bay Aquarium, for anyone who hasn’t been there, is a magical place, and I couldn’t wait to show Kelly. We ended up spending more time there than we should have, but when you’re face to face with a great white shark, tuna, hammerhead sharks, and a giant sunfish in a deep sea tank, or when you’re gazing at a room where the walls are made of aquaria full of floating jellyfish, you kind of lose track of time.

For our food fix, we picked up the Monterey Bay seafood watch guide from a volunteer who was talking about which fish are sustainably harvested, with little by-catch (the list is tragically short). I’d been using the guide for a while, since it’s listed on-line at www.seafoodwatch.org for anyone who wants to look at it. It makes me feel better about the choices I make, although I’m sad that I’ll never again be able to eat Chilean seabass, which is terribly over-fished. But I’ll get down from my soapbox, and carry on with our day.

A Day in Napa

November 19

We slept in a bit today, and then decided to wander out into our neighborhood to find a breakfast spot. We ended up at Café Mason, on a street corner I remembered from my last visit to San Francisco. We were just up the street from Biscuits and Blues where I drank way too much Jack Daniels and smoked a cigar before having to fly out early the next morning for client meetings. Ahh, memories…that was one bad taste in my mouth.

Café Mason turned out to be just what we needed. I got my seafood fix, ordering a bay shrimp and avocado omelette. It was packed with fresh herbs (I found rosemary, thyme and parsley), lots of avocado and tomato, and a dozens of tiny, savory shrimp. Kelly got his corned beef hash fix in an “Irish benedict”. Our tummies were very pleased with us for hours afterward. I love that feeling of well-being you get when you eat something that is just what your body needs. Although I’m not sure if any body needs Hollandaise sauce, Kelly still claimed he felt great.

We headed towards Napa after that, to the Copia food and wine museum. We found our way without too much trouble, and arrived at 1:30 PM, just in time for an Oregon Pinot Noir tasting. I’m in! There was a lot of swishing and spitting going one, and I did find a few that were very good—my favourite, of course, the Torii Mor Olson Vineyard Pinot, ran around $65 for retail. Expensive tastes get old after a while. Another one that I very much liked was the Erath Vineyards. The 2002 Estate Selection was so mild it put many of the other tinny and watery Pinots to shame. I know it’s stylish to like Pinot Noirs, thanks to the movie Sideways, but I get sick of having to try so hard to find a good one.

Sadly, none of the ones that I liked and could afford were available for sale anywhere but the vineyards, so I had to settle for picking up some new Napa Zinfandels and Syrahs to bring for dinner with our friends Isaac and Alix at Alix’s sister’s place. I of course can only remember two of the three wines now, and not my favorite one—I tend to get too into enjoying myself and not into recording details. We had a Renard Syrah, and a Storybook Mountain Zin. Thomas—if you’re reading this, please send me the details on the first wine we drank at your place!

But I digress—we spent some more time at Copia, looking at the exhibits (sorry no pictures were allowed). I’ve always thought that since I’m into both food and exhibit design, that a food museum would be the ultimate project. And that’s what Copia is. The exhibits were well-done, but it was a fairly small space. I could imagine filling a 5,000 square foot exhibit gallery with the history and science of food. But this theme was nicely focused on food in America, and Americans’ relationships to food. The last exhibit was a compilation of food clips from movies over the years, from Big (the mini corn cob scene) to The Big Night, which made me giddy.

Driving back to San Fran later on, we discovered the way we should have driven out to Napa. We came out on the freeway, over the Bay Bridge, only to discover as the sun was setting that the drive back towards the Golden Gate Bridge took us through Sonoma and winding roads with great vistas of vines as far as the eye could see. So we missed a bit of scenery—but now we know for next time.

Isaac prepared dinner with all fresh ingredients from the Embacardero Market—locally grown and made Italian sausage on fresh pappardelle with roasted peppers and tomatoes, locally raised free-range chicken breasts with fresh herbs, and a salad of seasonal greens. We finished off our meal with a gorgeous Muscat, courtesy of Thomas and Courtney, paired with triple cream cheese and a local blue cheese, as well as some salted chocolates (part of the new sweet-savory revolution), filled with burnt caramel, hot chilis, and ginger. Yum on both the food front and the company—we don’t see enough of Alix and Isaac, so we soaked it up while we could.

First Night in San Francisco

(early evening of the 18th)

Tragedy! We missed the free wine tasting at our little boutique hotel! Nob Hill Hotel so far seems really cool, although there’s very little access to internet here. Not sure when I’ll get this posted…


We got here safe and sound, and have had enough of a break between our Hon’s lunch that we’re even hungry again. Which is cool, because we have reservations for Jardiniere (www.jardinere.com), the sustainable (although not financially—for us) restaurant.

(Late evening of the 18th)

We dressed up and took a cab to Jardiniere and discovered shortly after our arrival that an 8:30 reservation is still unfashionably early for most locals. The place still had empty tables, and didn’t get really hopping until about 10:30 or 11:00.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t order the $99 tasting menu because I had to pace myself, at least somewhat. But when I saw it, I almost cried:

First course: Carpaccio of Maine Diver Scallops with Hearts of Palm, Asian Pear and Ginger Vinaigrette, Tsar Nicoulai Caviar
2nd course: Local Petrale Sole with Pork Cheek Raviolis, Bitter Greens and Local Dungeness Crab, Shallot Bacon Broth
3rd course: Liberty Farms Duck Breast and Seared Foie Gras, with Chestnut Puree, Roasted Apple and Huckleberry Jus
4th course: Dry Aged New York Steak with Bone Marrow Gremolata, Chanterelle Mushrooms and Creamed Nettles, Perigord Truffle Jus
5th course: Abbaye de Belloc Natural Rind Raw Sheep’s Milk Cheese from Pyrenees, France
6th course: Pumpkin Crème Caramel with Pecan Shortbread and Cranberry Compote

Foie gras! Scallop carpaccio!! Truffles!!!

And yet I’d promised myself. Luckily, the a la carte daily specials were also beautiful. It’s not as hard to say no to foie gras when I could have Burrata cheese and house cured charcuterie with a salad of Concord grapes and toasted walnuts. I love walnuts in California. They’re so fresh—I didn’t even think I liked walnuts until I tried them in California and learned that every walnut I’d ever eaten until then had been stale.

Kelly was tempted by the pâté plate that included rabbit with fig preserves, country pork with apple salad, with whole grain mustard. I knew I wanted fish, and the main course special was an Alaskan sablefish with savoy cabbage, roasted root vegetables, smoked bacon and red wine-crab sauce. I also managed to talk Kelly into the dry aged steak dish that was both an evening special and part of the tasting menu (I really wanted to try it).

And they had fresh oysters, too. I had promised myself one other thing—that I would eat as many oysters as I could while on this trip. I ordered four.

I enjoyed my charcuterie plate, which included a prosciutto, a cracked pepper salami (delicious), and another dry cured ham. The salad was fresh and light—with lovely flavours of thin-cut fennel shining through. It went very well with a lively Alsatian Pinot Blanc recommended by our server.

Kelly’s pâté plate was interesting, but not as good as mine. The rabbit pâté was silky and delicious—the flavours of several herbs swam around in my mouth. With a bite of fig conserve, which tasted like it had been simmered in veal demi-glace, it was wonderful. The pork pâté, however, just tasted like ham. Tragically, Kelly’s cold had flared up with his first glass of wine that evening, so he was having trouble tasting anything. He wondered if he had suddenly ended up in Hell, being in a place where the food was so good, and not being able to taste it.

The service slowed noticeably after our appetizers, and we were beginning to feel the two-hour time difference. Our servers knew we’d been waiting a long time, and made it up to us with a little amuse bouche that rocked my world: a seared scallop on a truffled pommes purée. Really just a scallop on mashed potatoes, but it was a perfectly caramelized scallop, on potatoes that had more cream than potato and a beautiful dose of earthy, mouth-exploding truffle. They made up for the lapse in service, I’d say.

Our main dishes arrived shortly after that. There’s something about the way truly high-end restaurants prepare fish that I can never get enough of. It was caramelly on the outside, and had a perfectly creamy texture on the inside. The surrounding glazed roasted vegetables, cabbage and bacon were all very homey, with textures and flavours that perfectly complemented each other—I’d get smokey notes from the bacon, followed by slightly bitter ones from the cabbage and turnips, then sweeter notes from the carrots. Very wholesome and satisfying—and paired with a Sonoma Pinot Noir.

Kelly’s steak, which was free-range, tasted remarkably like my Dad’s homegrown beef. That’s something we don’t expect in restaurants. The nettle purée reminded me of a toned down shot of wheatgrass—a very ‘green’ flavour. The chanterelle mushrooms were the fattest, firmest, freshest chanterelles I’d ever tasted. Once Kelly had put his fork down, I stole all the remaining mushrooms off his plate.

By the time we were done eating, we were extremely wiped out. We perused the dessert menu, but couldn’t justify the gastronomic effort or the time to try one. We were duly impressed with the 22-page menu, though. Only one page was devoted to desserts. The rest was devoted to bar items—ports, sherries, dessert wines, scotch, grappa, bourbon, and on and on, with a three-piece tasting menu for all of them. Oh, all so tempting.

Luckily for our pocketbooks, we left it at that, which kept our bill just barely under $200. Had we ordered the six-course tasting menu, it would have been over $300, so I felt both satisfied with my meal, and pleased that I’d kept my promise.