Life in New Zealand

Writing

2012-02-08T17:45:00.001-08:00

Hello to those of you still checking this poorly updated site. I have to apologize for not writing for so long. I have finally begun the massive write up for my thesis and feel little inclined to write in my free time. So, rather than discuss our continuing international food experiments (off and on I must admit) or tell you about our various tramps (which I will try to get to eventually) or ramble on about our impending residency (which will definitely show up), I will offer some of my reflections on Antarctica. As part of my exploration of the perceptions of Antarctica by New Zealanders I have been doing self-reflective writing throughout my studies. They talk about where my original ideas and drive rose from and how my research and experiences have influenced and changed my perceptions. It is not often we take the time to reflect on how experience changes our perceptions, but I offer the idea that taking the time now and again can help us understand not only how we affect places or events, but also how they affect us.

_____________

10 Mar. 09

The first time I remember wanting to go to Antarctica was the summer of 1998 when I was in Britain with my family on a holiday. We were in Bath staying in Beckfords’ Tower, a landmark trust property. I had just purchased a book about Shackletons’ Endurance expedition in order to write an essay for a Canadian essay competition. It was a big picture book, with stories and photos from their journey. I learned about how their ship sank into the ice, how they lived on ice floes for months on end, how they survived on penguin and seal meat, how 6 of them made an amazing 700km voyage in the open seas in a tiny boat to South Georgia to rescue the rest of the crew, not one person dying, I learned where South Georgia was. After that, I read South by Shackleton himself. Retelling in detail what this vast and distant continent was for him. And I was hooked.

Growing up in the North, I have an understanding of cold and snow and ice. I know how to make an igloo, a quinze, a snow trench. I know how to stay reasonably warm in -30^oC with the wind whipping the heat away from your body. I have skied on a glacier. I have slept over night in the snow. I have experienced a whiteout. But I have never experienced Antarctica. I know deep down it is different. I know that the experiences I have had will be vastly different from any I could have in Antarctica, but they must count for something. They must have some relation to what one encounters and the other end of the world. In Antarctica.

Shackleton's ship in 1915

Antarctica was always white to me. It was blowing snow across a vast, flat white surface. Even the mountains I pictured were white, no rock, just snow. There were beaches of limited black rocks, but everything else was white. I got these images from reading about Shackeltons’ Endurance expedition. The old photographs of black and white taken by Hurley showed nothing but white on white with wisps of gray thrown in for shadows. Sure there were little people all in black, most of which I later learned were drawn in by Hurley to produce a sense of scale. But it didn’t really matter; Antarctica was this vast, blank continent, filled with the lonely stories of Shackleton, Scott, and Amundsen. I wanted to see it for myself, to experience this desolation, this emptiness, this hollow country of snow.

After our trip to Britain, Antarctica didn’t quite disappear, but it certainly dropped from the centre of my mind. I adopted a strong fondness for penguins and learned as much as I could about them. I read different stories in the news about Antarctic science. But it was all very far away. It felt almost on a different planet. I loved the Yukon, the North, Canada, and I worked hard at learning about my home. About the plants that grew there, the birds and animals that lived there, and the different histories that made it the place it is today. But it’s interesting being raised in a country I know is not my cultures’, in a land that is nothing like the places my grandparents’ or even my parents’ told of in their stories, in a place that is filled already with the stories of other peoples’ traditions and ways of life.

My father was always aware that we were settlers, new comers, immigrants, and even though I was 6 when we arrived and I grew up there, I have this feeling of not quite belonging. I want to go back, I want to raise children there, and make my family there, but I know and always will know that I have a very different connection to the land than do the Athabaskan, the Tlingit, the Gwitch’in. I value and love the spaces and places I have come to know, Egg Island, the 30 Mile River, Magic Pony hill, Lake Laberge, but these are different values and connections than those of the First Nations who have been there for generations. And this is probably the biggest reason I came back to Antarctica in my mind. The idea of tabula rasa that Antarctica epitomized grabbed my mind and drew me to it. As a second generation Canadian and first generation Yukoner, I was acutely aware of my not quite belonging. I longed to feel that deep connection that I imagined the Ta’an Hwitch’an felt for the places I loved so much, I wanted to belong to some place. I imagined that Antarctica might hold that key. Now I’m not so sure that it actually holds the key to my feeling a sense of deep connection to the place, but perhaps it is instead showing me how to belong in the Yukon. I will have to wait and see.

Global cuisine - Turkish

2011-11-08T23:35:00.000-08:00

Hmm, it's been a while. We have been following our pledge. I've just been rather lousy at posting about it. After our week in Morocco, we continued across the Mediterranean to Turkey. While I have always wanted to visit Istanbul and Hagia Sopiha, I have had very little idea about what Turkish food consisted of.

[Sorry, no food pic this time - pilaf isn't really that photogenic. Instead, a lovely picture from Lonely Planet of Istanbul, a city I long to visit]

I should admit now, it is a lot more work than I anticipated cooking a country a week. You have to choose a country, thinking about what's in season and available at that time of year. You have to find recipes (my two favorite places have been the internet and the public library) and choose those which coincide with seasonally available produce (at least in my mind you should). Then you have to track down any specialty ingredients you might need (Japan - Saki, France - Duck fat, Turkey - Grape leaves). And each night, after work or school, you have to be up for learning new techniques and trying new things. Don't get me wrong, it's a blast. But it has resulted in me looking for the simplest meals at times - which I suppose is something someone from any country would do after a long day of work. Leading me to admitting that while cooking Turkish food, we ate a lot of pilafs.

Pilafs are awesome. Essentially, rice, barley or couscous cooked in a flavoured broth with tasty bits added in. They take rice to a whole new level for me and the recipe I have below was my absolute favorite of the lot. While it only has 6 ingredients, the flavours are rich and delicious and the ingredients are super easy to find.

Chickpea Pilaf

1 can drained chickpeas (390g net)

175 g long-grained rice*

1 onion, chopped

2 Tablespoons butter

600ml stock (I like chicken)

1 large bunch of spinach, washed and chopped

Pepper to taste (salt is in your stock)

1) Melt butter in large pot, or wok, and add onions. Cook until soft. Stir in chickpeas and rice. Pour in stock, season with pepper and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and cook, stirring often, until almost all liquid has been absorbed. Stir in spinach until it wilts in.

2) Remove pan from heat, cover with a clean, dry teatowel and press the lid down tightly. Leave to steam 15-20 minutes.

3) Fluff gently with a fork and serve.

*I am learning so much about the different types of rice, how they vary taste-wise and cooking-wise. It's great.

Another one?!

2011-11-08T23:27:00.001-08:00

So far, we seem to average about one a year. Which, depending on how long we stay here, could amount to a fair number of cats.

While he was doing security rounds at school on Monday night for the end of year awards ceremony, Stephen had to haul this wee cat out of the performance centre which she was trying to infiltrate in order to pilfer the prizes. He called me up at home and requested I come get her as he was pretty sure she hadn't eaten in a while. So, I gobbled up the rest of my dinner, jumped in the car and drove on down to the school. Sure enough, the cat almost jumped into the crate in order to get the fresh fish and bowl of food I'd brought along. Once home, I tucked her into the bathroom with a hot water bottle and some more food and water. I think I've seen her up on her feet about 5 times since then (2 days later) and one of those was to go to the vet. She is one tired kitty. Hopefully, she'll be back on her feet in a few days and we can get to know her a bit better.

Meanwhile, we'll wait to see if someone is missing her. Otherwise, well, time will tell . . .

Rugby World Cup 2011

2011-10-30T20:33:00.000-07:00

Yeah. We were excited.

Hey, it was a long, hard game and it was such a relief in the end after those tense 80 minutes of nail-biting intensity.

I mean, there was this guy in front of me who turned away from the screen every time France had the ball. He didn't watch very much in the second half.

But, we made it.

And then, we had a parade.

Two days after the final game, after the parade in Auckland, the boys in black came to Christchurch to present us with the Webb Ellis cup. It was awesome. The park was packed. The people were happy. And the rugby players signed lots of balls.

Thanks guys.

ReStart

2011-10-30T20:03:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, October 28th Christchurch's downtown rebooted. After 8 months of not having a central business district the public was welcomed back into a small section of our forever changed downtown to kick start Cup & Show week, the coming summer and the long road to rebuilding our city's heart.

The walk into town one cannot but witness the still ongoing demolition that is taking place. Buildings are being taken down one by one, with only a very select few having been deemed structurally sound enough to stay up. But even walking past this is good. We have been kept out of our city for so long and some things have changed so drastically that it is good to be able to watch from a closer proximity and be able to take in the change as it happens.

Stephen and I arrived at about 3pm in the hot spring sun and Cashel Street Mall was packed with people. There were live music groups busking in corners, cafes sending out the aroma of coffee and baked goods, and bright, festive wares in all the shop windows. Not to mention to bright, colourful shipping containers that lined the streets, piled on top of each other. If the walk into town had been somewhat sobering, it seemed that everyone inside the new shopping district was drunk on the headiness of being in a place they had missed for so long.

The first thing that struck me on walking into the Mall was the amazing thought that had gone into planning it. I can only hope that there is more like this to come for the rest of the city as we rebuild it. Green spaces and benches for relaxing, buildings that are built to human scale (ie., not towering over us and blocking out the sun), small alleyways to pull pedestrians down to discover what interesting and amazing shops are down there, central areas dedicated to cafes where people can sit, relax and watch the people going by.

At the far end of the Mall the planners have built a timber fence which has, planned or not, become a destination in and of itself. People clamber up on the planter boxes in order see over and down towards the parts of town not yet cleared up. This small area is great, but it is surrounded by the reminders of what we are still missing. While we were sitting enjoying our lunch (after standing in line a good half hour), Stephen and I talked about whether Cashel Street Mall would last. Despite the festive atmosphere of the day, we wondered for how long people would make the long trek downtown to shop at very expensive shops. There are no offices nearby, there are only two small cafes and it does not serve passing traffic as there is only one road open through town and it doesn't come all that close to here. We hope that the businesses there will do well and that Christchurch people will work to help each other, goodness knows the next time I need a gorgeous dress I will be heading downtown to pick one out. Isn't someone out there having a wedding soon I can come to?

Global cuisine - Morocco

2011-09-27T19:34:00.001-07:00

[Olive and lemon display in Meknez souq]

This specific choice was one I had been looking forward to. A few years ago, while still doing my undergraduate degree, I took a month to travel to Fez, Morocco and attend an arabic language school. It was a phenomenal experience and I think of it with great fondness, hoping someday to go back and see more of that magical country. One of the things I loved about the trip was the food.

The first three weeks of my trip happened to coincide with Ramadan, the month of fasting. From sun up until sun down, no food was allowed to pass the lips of any muslim. This is practiced in order to learn patience, spirituality, humility and humbleness before God. My last week there was Eid Al-Fitr, which marks the end of the fasting when the new moon is first spotted. This is essentially a big party with lots of food and celebration. Everyone was decked out in their finery and smiling. It was good fun.

For our week of Moroccan food here I was constantly telling Stephen stories about this meal or that one. He was even thoughtful enough to make up a batch of paratha dough early in the week, which allowed me to slice, fold and fry them up for breakfast each morning and store the remaining dough back in the fridge. Although parathas are not originally North African, one of the other language students at the school whom I lived with treated me to them each morning - slathered in butter and honey.

Moroccan food is about couscous, cinnamon, saffron, dates and olives. The tajine is probably the most recognized food from that area and a tasty one at that. One of the rules I remember learning from my host family was that the meat was always hidden under the mound of couscous which was in turn covered in vegetables. This ensured that children would have to eat through the important bits to get at the meaty treasure beneath. Another important lesson in a land where hands were the tools used for eating was that only the right hand was ever used to take food from the communal plate. And if possible, it was the only hand used at all. This presumably comes from the sanitary requirements for survival in a water scarce environment.

One of the highlights for me of the week was finally trying chermoula. This is traditionally used as a marinade for fish but we used it with delicious results as a sauce for carrots as well.

[Meat and carrot tajine with leftover chermoula on the carrots]

Chermoula

Taken from der Haroutunian, A. (2009) North African Cookery. Grub Street, London.

4 tablespoons oil

75g butter

1 onion, sliced into rounds

2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

50g chopped fresh parsley

50g chopped fresh coriander

1 teaspoon black pepper

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ginger

1/2 teaspoon saffron diluted in 4 tablespoons water (I didn't have any, it still tasted wonderful)

1/2 teaspoon cumin

1/2 teaspoon thyme

1/2 teaspoon paprika

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

2 bay leaves

1. Heat oil and butter in a saucepan and add all remaining ingredients. Cook over moderate heat for 12-15 minutes, stirring frequently. Remove from the heat and serve hot or cold.

I cooled mine to room temperature and then poured over my white fish fillets. Leftover was stored in the refrigerator and used later in the week tossed in with cooked carrots.

Spring garden

2011-09-27T02:12:00.000-07:00

[Recently finished quilt for a friends birthday]

Despite my increased work load recently I have enjoyed taking the time to enjoy our new garden. It's a small adventure every time I go out to see what new treasure has poked out of the ground. We are busily putting in our herb garden and strawberry fence (more on that later), and Stephen is putting together a wee chicken coop for our new additions (more of them later too). Life is teeming in the garden and the beautiful oasis it is turning into is a realm of peace and calm in the rush of our current lives. Unfortunately, I have yet to learn the names of our lovely blossoms.

[A lovely flowering tree that spreads white petals everywhere]

[One of many rhododendrons]

[Hellebore - grows in the shade of the first flowering tree shown]

[Wee blue fairy flowers]

[Our flowering cherry tree - seems to blossom in levels]

Global cuisine - Thai

2011-09-27T01:34:00.000-07:00

[One of two fish curries served with brown rice and lime]

It has certainly been a wee while since I've posted anything up here. Lots to do lately, with deadlines and projects coming to a head. And spring too, seems to be bursting forth with no holding back. Despite our busy schedule, we have been keeping to our national food adventures. After our foray into French cuisine we wandered back East to try some Thai. Stephen had been wanting to try making Phad Thai, so we bought some rice noodles, some limes and some bean sprouts and got stuck in.

We began with something we were rather comfortable with - curry. Before taking on this experiment I never fully realized the huge differences in curries. I knew that several different nations made curries, but I was never fully appreciative of their unique qualities. Indian curries (well, the Westernized versions anyhow), for example, have quite deep, warming flavours, with cumin, fenugreek, and coriander (along with many others). While Thai curries tend to be more fresh and clean tasting. These are usually based around fresh ingredients like kaffir lime leaves, chilies and ginger. Our first couple of meals were fish curries, and despite using the same fish, we were able to make vastly different curries formed around these basic ingredients (along with fish sauce, sugar and coconut cream).

I must admit the Phad Thai we eventually made was a bit of a let down as it lacked enough sauce to make it really flavourful. But this was most likely the fault of the cooks rather than the recipe. We moved onto what was probably my favorite dish - spicy longbeans with(out) salty eggs. The latter subtraction was due to the 3 weeks needed to actually make the salty eggs. But it was pretty tasty even without. And finished the week with prawns with chili and basil.

[Prawns with chili and basil - tasty, tasty]

A rather tasty week, full of fresh flavours. It was lovely and light after the warm heaviness of french cuisine. One of the lessons we took away from the Thai week, was the mathematics of taste in a Thai curry. Too salty - add sugar, too sweet - add fish sauce, and too sweet and salty - add lime juice. Worked every time!

Spicy longbeans with(out) salty eggs

I have adapted this from the original and not included the salty egg bit, but you can find the full recipe in Bhumichitr, V. (2005) Vatch's Thai Kitchen. Ryland, Peters & Small, London.

Peanut or sunflower oil

180g ready-fried beancurd, finely sliced

2 teaspoons finely chopped garlic

1 tablespoon Red Curry paste (see below)

250g Chinese longbeans (or green beans), chopped into 2.5cm lengths

2 tablespoons light soy sauce

4 tablespoons vegetable stock

1 teaspoon sugar

1 tablespoon ground roasted peanuts

4 kaffir lime leaves, finely chopped

1. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in wok on high heat. Add beancurd and fry until golden brown. Remove from wok and drain on paper towel covered plate.

2. Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in wok, add garlic and fry until golden brown. Stir in the curry paste. Add beans, soy sauce, stock, sugar, peanuts, lime leaves and fried beancurd. Stir-fry until the beans are done to your taste.

3. Serve and enjoy.

Red Curry Paste

Grind the following ingredients into a paste in a large mortar and pestle.

8 long red dried chilies, deseeded and chopped

1 teaspoon ground coriander seed

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin seed

1 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper

2 tablespoons fresh chopped garlic

2 stalks lemongrass, chopped

3 coriander roots, chopped (I didn't have any - it still tasted good)

1 teaspoon chopped kaffir lime skin, or finely chopped lime leaves

3 cm fresh galangal or ginger, peeled and chopped

1 teaspoon salt

Spring is in the air

2011-09-09T13:54:00.000-07:00

[Biking is the perfect way to get around in the lovely warm spring air]

After a couple of exciting snowfalls the air is getting warmer and the birds are getting louder. There are tiny buds poking out of my new garden and spring has arrived. We've been extremely lucky with the weather over the last couple of weekends, allowing us to get out and enjoy that glorious spring air. Below are some photos from the last couple of weekends which we've had the pleasure of enjoying here in Christchurch.

[Riccarton Bush Farmers Market]

[Cupcakes and cookies are always popular]

[There are many more flowers to choose from now]

[There are always numerous bakers from whom to buy your bread each week]

[It is still only spring so hot soup is most welcome]

[An outdoor exhibit of Yann Arthus-Bertrands Earth from Above photographs as part of the Christchurch Arts Festival]

[The images wend their way down Rolleston Ave. from the Hagley Park bridge, past Christ College to the Canterbury museum. Some amazing photographs and interesting stories.]

[On September 2nd, the Canterbury Museum opened up again after being closed since the February earthquake. It was wonderful to be able to go back through the familiar halls.]

[One new exhibit consists of over 4000 hand sewn hearts donated to Christchurch for the earthquake. Initiated by a woman in Napier, the hearts come from around the world and make their way around the room in a rainbow of colours. They are absolutely wonderful.]

[A detail of some of the hearts]

[While much of the museum was the same there were certain, minor differences - missing exhibits and individual pieces.]

[A temporary exhibit of the photographic works of Brian Brake, a New Zealand photographer who captured the world on film.]

[The Botanic Gardens were also filled with the signs of spring]

[An interactive water feature which always seems to prove popular]

[Waiting patiently for the parents to be finished their conversation.]

[The park was filled with scenes like this. Picnics abounded, so we decided we should have one too. Nothing like a lovely, warm spring day for a picnic in the park.]

Global cuisine - France

2011-09-03T21:18:00.000-07:00

[Steak au Poivre with truffle mashed potatoes and sauteed baby leeks]

Continuing on from our previous plan, last week we focused on French food. What a change from our previous week which had been simple, light, and easy. French food, with its profuse use of butter and cream and a multitude of techniques was very different. But that's what we were looking for so we dove straight in.

While it would be easy to get bogged down in the highly technical and fancy food of French haute cuisine we were more interested in finding recipes that were more the basic, eat around the farm table fare. Also keeping to our seasonal vege rule limited our forays into too many exotic areas. But good thing for us, leeks are in season right now. And if a leek is not the epitome of french cooking then I don't know what is.

Our first french meal was mussels gratine with green lentils and herbs. Rich with a tasty creamy sauce, the mussels were a lovely, cheap way to start things off. The next night, we had Steak au poivre (or pepper steak) with truffle oil mashed potatoes and sauteed baby leeks. Familiar with the carnivorous leanings of french cuisine (or my experience and knowledge of it), we wanted to see what sorts of vegetarian dishes were there. We had a tasty (and butter and cream filled) leek tart, leek and potato soup, and of course, french onion soup (so much better than my first taste of it at a highway rest stop on the Alaska Highway in the middle of the Yukon). And throughout all this I was researching and planning my coup d'eta - cassoulet. Unfortunately, this led me to realize that cassoulet was not a meal to be made in a day, or even a week really. So we will have to enjoy it a little later, once the duck confit is made and rested. And the beans are found and soaked. Then, say in three or four weeks (I've been told the duck confit improves with age), we can finally sit down for the finale. But for now, we're moving on - Thailand up next.

[Mussels Gratin with green lentils and herbs]

Mussels Gratin (from So French - A lifetime in the provincial kitchen by Dany Chouet and Trish Hobbs)

1.25kg mussels

2 large french shallots, diced

250 ml dry white wine

40 g unsalted butter, plus extra for grilling

2 garlic cloves

1/2 teaspoon curry powder

1 egg yolk

50 ml cream

juice of half a lemon

20 g fine fresh breadcrumbs

1. Scrub mussels thoroughly under running water and pull our the hairy beards. Do not soak them or you will lose their precious liquid. Once clean, place them in a bowl and set aside.

2. Combine the shallots and wine in a saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat. Cook for a few minutes only and add the mussels. Cover the pan and shake. Continue to cook until the mussels begin to open. Remove the mussels as they open (allow them to get quite open, not just slightly). Throw out any mussels that do not open (these were dead before you cooked them and could make you sick).

3. Once all the mussels are out, strain the remaining juices through a fine seive and allow to settle. Remove the empty half of the mussels and lay the meaty ones in a large gratin dish (shallow baking pan with sides). Set aside.

4. Meld the butter in a saucepan over low heat, add the flour and stir until completely mixed (make a roux). Gradually pour in the mussel juice, being careful not to stop before any of the sediment at the bottom gets in. Whisk this until smooth, add the garlic and the curry powder and cook on low, stirring, until it thickens. Check your seasoning and add salt or pepper if you like. If it gets too thick add some water.

5. In a bowl whisk together the egg yolk and the cream with the lemon juice and some pepper. Add to the sauce.

6. Preheat your grill on high. Pour the sauce over the mussels, being sure to get some in each little shell. Sprinkle the breadcrumbs over top and dot with butter. Throw it under the grill for 3-5 minutes, or until golden brown. Serve immediately.

- Chouet, D. & Hobbs, T. (2010). So French: A lifetime in the provincial kitchen. Murdoch Books; London. p.96

Backcountry skiing in New Zealand

2011-09-03T16:11:00.001-07:00

[Kea hanging out at the parking lot]

Due to the various circumstances of the past year, Stephen and I had not gotten out skiing once this winter. We decided that this could not be and so packed our things one glorious Sunday morning and headed for the mountains. As our finances have changed since buying a house (which most of you are probably familiar with), we decided to do some backcountry skiing and save ourselves some money by not buying lift tickets. Hiking up is much better for your health anyways.

We arrived at Porter's Pass around 10am and unpacked our gear. There were already loads of cars parked in the small pull off at the summit below Foggy Peak. And we could see a large group of trampers trudging up the mountain through the snow. We figured that they were probably here for a course. Another couple of skiers pulled up while we were getting ready and we chatted with them about the route they were going to follow. Then it was back to getting dressed - snowpants, ski boots, PLB, fleece, mitts, toque, sunglasses, and jacket, hmmm, no jacket, it's pretty warm out.

Finally, we were ready and headed for the snow. We strapped on our skis and made to follow the other guys ski tracks. Two steps in I heard swearing behind me, I looked back and saw Stephen messing with his ski skins (strips you stick to the bottom of your skis to only allow you to slide one direction, good for climbing). Both skins had snapped in two. He quickly told me to keep moving and that he would catch up. Feeling that it would be best for me to let him deal with this on his own I trudged my way up the slope. There was a long ways to go and the more time I gave myself for breaks the better.

Stephen didn't take long to catch up. With his skis in his arms he followed the trampers tracks straight up while I twisted back and forth on the ski tracks (there's only so steep one can go with skis on even with skins). Up and up and up. Around spikey spaniards sticking through the snow and over hidden shrubs that would suck you in when you stepped on them. When we reached the first bench, we took a short break to strip down a layer. I was pretty sweaty already and we weren't even halfway up.

At one point we passed the trampers as they stopped for lunch. Stephen going up over the rocky ridge in the sun and my opting to stay low and cross the rather steep, shady bit of slope. Half way across I realized why the other skiers had decided to go over, it was almost sheer ice. I inched my way across the slope slowly and carefully. Thinking how embarrassing it would be to serve as a bad example for the tramping groups lesson plan. But eventually I made it across, with nothing worse than some rather shaky legs. I met Stephen back on top of the ridge and we sat down for some lunch.

After lunch we made the last dash for the summit. I was pleased as punch to have made it to the top and enjoyed the view East towards Christchurch and the ocean. While Stephen took a quick wander over to the other side, I had some tea and put my layers back on. Finally, we were all set. With our skis on we looked down the mountain and planned our route. It looked like there was a beautiful, open slope ready for us to carve down so off we headed.

I was at the top of the slope and about to head into the glorious powder, Stephen was waiting to let me have the first turn on that blank white canvas. I lunged into the turn, jutting my right leg forward and leaning into the hill . . . . but my back foot felt funny. It jiggled. It wiggled. And then, bewildered, I stumbled and watched as my left ski slid, rolled and tumbled down the hill to the bottom of the slope. I collapsed into the snow and howled with laughter. Poor Stephen, thinking I was hurt quickly came down to see if I was alright. He couldn't quite understand how it was funny. But I reassured him that nothing could be more hilarious. He had had to walk up the mountain, it seemed only fair that I walk down it.

So while Stephen gracefully carved his way down the hill, I slid, rolled and tumbled after my ski. We met up at the lonely ski and examined the damage. It didn't look all that bad, the screws that attached the binding to the ski had just come out. Though we figured it would probably be time for some new bindings. So much for saving money by going backcountry skiing. Stephen graciously passed his skis over to me and I took the next section of the mountain by ski, while he, braver than me, attempted to ski one legged. I have to say it was impressive that he could stay up, let alone steer. When I had the broken skis back, the best I could do was slide on them.

We made it back to the parking lot just as the trampers left. Utterly euphoric from the beauty (and adventure) of the day we had spent in the mountains, we packed up our gear, drank the last of the tea and headed for home.

[Packing up the car after a day in the snow - notice the ski second from the left missing its binding]

The next day Stephen found an old pair of telemark skis on Trademe that included a pair of skins. They're in the mail now.

Global cuisine - Japan

2011-08-24T00:05:00.000-07:00

[Miso rice balls (front) and teriyaki beef rice balls (back) in Diamond Harbour for lunch]

While life is an ongoing interesting adventure full of new things to experience and people to share with, sometimes it's nice to create an environment where you force yourself to try new things and experiment.

Now I consider myself pretty adventurous in the kitchen, trying new recipes and new foods as much as possible. But it's hard not to fall back onto those familiar foods we know how to make and can throw together with our eyes closed after a long day of work. A couple of weeks ago, I thought maybe we could try something to push our comfort and force ourselves to learn new things. So the idea of cooking global came up. For a week at a time, we would cook all our dinners (and lunches if at home) from a national cuisine. Looking at our cupboard and seeing what was in season, we decided our first week would be Japanese.

Now, I've never been to Japan, though I would one day love to go. Probably with my brother, who I would take as a guide as he has been there several times already and has a deep passion for all things Japanese. Despite this, I do enjoy their food, or rather, what has been presented to me by mass media as their national dishes - sushi, ramen, and okinomiyaki (a fried egg and cabbage omlette with shrimp and tasty sauce). Ok, the okinomiyaki is probably not a mass media thing, it was rather a dish my brother and dad brought back with them from one of their earlier trips to Japan. But this was what I thought of for Japanese foods. I knew there was more out there, so one of the 'rules' for this little experiment would be to cook things we hadn't cooked before - so no sushi.

I started by going to the library and taking out the cook books they had there. And, probably unique to Japan, I found a manga (graphic novel, comic book) devoted to the exploration of Japanese food. In each volume, Oishinbo explores a different aspect of Japanese cuisine. I had seen them floating around my brothers room back home, so I picked up the one they had on "The Joy of Rice". With my literary guides chosen I headed home to see what we could conjure up for our week of Japanese eating.

[Oishinbo, or "The Gourmet", looks into various aspects of Japanese food. I got my ideas for rice balls from here.]

The first night, a Thursday I think, we ate beef and udon noodle soup. It was absolutely delicious. The next night it was a bowl of rice with several toppings arranged artfully around the top (aesthetics is an important part of food preparation in Japan). On the weekend, I made three different types of rice balls some stuffed, some just coated in flavours. These worked perfectly for our lunches on our hike and ski outings. No worries about squishing bread, just an easy to eat, flavourful treat ready to go at lunch. In fact, towards the end of the week it was getting easy to experiment with our new understanding of flavours and ingredients to make up our own recipes. Although, on our last night, we fell back to our recipe book and made a simple (most of the food we made was surprisingly simple and non-fussy) and absolutely divine sweet miso marinated cod with noodles and fennel salad.

During this week, I learned a few things. Firstly, that by cooking from a specific cuisine we spent far less money on groceries as we only needed a few choice ingredients that we used up through the week (1x 500ml bottle of miso paste, 3/4 bottle of sake, 1/2 bottle pickled ginger, 1 packet soba noodles and 4 packets udon noodles, among others). Our fridge remained spacious and nothing went to waste. It was a satisfying feeling. Second, Japanese food (sushi) has always been presented (or perceived by me anyhow) as an exotic, fancy food for celebrities and executives. This has slowly changed over time as it has become more the norm to find sushi places around town (heck, in Whitehorse there are two, at one point even three, sushi places. This for a town of 25,000). However, the home cooking that we were doing was far from the complicated, many stepped ritual of preparing and rolling rice. We have put several of our experiments into our own little recipe collection for later use. Eventually, these once exotic recipes will become the easy fall back onto which we will look for sustenance after a long day at work.

Below are two recipes I particularly enjoyed. First, spinach gomaae. Always a favorite of mine when visiting a Japanese restaurant, this spinach salad with sesame dressing was something I really wanted to try and make. Little did I know just how easy it was to make. A word of warning, it does have a strong flavour. Although I love it, poor Stephen does not, which was good for me I suppose as I got to eat it all up. This recipe has been taken (and slightly altered) from the New York Times website (that source for all things Japanese ;-). Their link follows.

Spinach Gomaae

1 large bunch of spinach (younger leaves are more tender)

4 tablespoons of seasame seeds

1/2 tablespoon sugar (more or less depending on how sweet you like it*)

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon soy sauce

1 tablespoon sake

a splash of water

1. First, prepare the spinach by chopping just the very tips of the bottoms off (keeping the leaves joined if they are young and keeping the stems if they are larger) and rinsing off any dirt clinging on. Bring a large pot of water to the boil and have ready a large bowl of ice water along side.

2. Blanche the spinach - In batches, place some spinach in a mesh seive and dip this into the boiling water. Using a large spoon make sure the spinach is submerged in the water and hold it there for about 30 seconds, then remove it from the pot and dump it into the ice water. The spinach can sit in here quite happily for a while.

3. Once you have blanched your spinach, remove it in handfuls, squeezing out any excess water. Chop into 2 inch lengths and throw into a bowl.

4. Now, prepare the dressing. Toss your sesame seeds into a dry frying pan on high heat and toast. Keep the pan moving and shake the seeds around until they begin to turn golden brown and become aromatic. Remove the pan from the heat and pour the seeds into a mortar and pestle and allow to cool.

5. Once cool (or at least mostly), grind the seeds until just crushed. You should have a few still whole, but most will be crushed.

6. Combine the soy sauce and sugar in a bowl and stir until the sugar dissolves. Add the sake and sesame seeds, pour in some water to reach the consistency you prefer. I put in about a tablespoon. Pour this over your spinach and mix.

Enjoy your tasty creation. (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/20/health/20recipehealth.html)

_______________________________

The second recipe is the one we made on our last night, sweet miso marinated cod. You can substitute any white fish you like. This is from one of the cookbooks we got from the library, Japanese Pure and Simple by Kimiko Barber. It is simple and so delicious. And although it might look like a lot of sugar, dessert is not common in Japan, mostly it is just fresh, sliced fruit, so I would recommend following this dinner with just that. We served our fish with some buckwheat soba noodles and a fresh fennel salad (sliced fennel root massaged with 1/2 teaspoon salt and sprinkled with lemon juice from 1/2 lemon).

Sweet Miso Marinated Cod

enough fillets of cod to feed your crew

200ml sake

100g sugar

450g light-coloured miso paste (we only had ~350g but it was still tasty)

1. Make up the marinade by placing the sake into a saucepan and bring to a boil. Allow alcohol to burn off for a few minutes, then remove from heat. Add sugar and stir until dissoved. Add miso paste and whisk together.

2. Place fillets into a flat dish with sides and pour over the marinade. Marinade fish in fridge for a few hours, 2-12 hours (any longer and your fish will start to dry out and become overpoweringly miso flavoured).

3. Heat grill to high and place fish under heat for 3-7 minutes (depending on size of fillets). Turn them over once golden and finish cooking (a little bit of caramelization is not bad, in fact it's pretty tasty).

There you have it. Tasty, miso cod. (Barber, K. 2006. Japanese pure and simple: over 100 health-giving recipes. Kyle Cathie Ltd., London.)

Next week - french. I've always wanted to make cassoulet. . .

Snow Day - take 2

2011-08-23T23:57:00.000-07:00

We woke up the next morning to snow. Lots of snow. More snow than last time. The quiet, softness of it seeming to act like a sedative on the entire city.

After a weekend of throwing myself up mountains and down mountains, it was a pleasure to just slow down and relax in a world forced to slow down by snow. The cat slept on the window sill, we called family in Canada, Stephen baked and shoveled and I sewed. It was a gloriously simple and comfortable day.

In fact, the next two days were the same. The snow continued to fall and clung to the ground for a good three days, closing schools, slowing traffic and making people smile.

Jolliebrook

2011-08-23T22:40:00.001-07:00

After spending so much time in a city, albeit in our own house, we were getting tired of the cars, the noise, the people, and the illusion of rush and worry. We decided that a weekend away in the mountains was just what we needed. And after a well-timed conversation with a friend at uni, we even had someone to share a ride with and maybe shoot something to bring home.

We decided to head up to Lake Sumner and Jolliebrook Hut. Tom, our hunting friend, wanted to go the unconventional route and Stephen, always yearning for a challenge, was keen for this suggested mountain route. I was happy to go along for the ride.

Early Saturday morning, despite the weather warnings for Sunday afternoon, we packed up the car, picked up Tom (and his mountain of things) and headed West towards the mountains and Lake Sumner.

After a lovely, though twisty, drive we arrived at the muddy pull out beside the farm track we were on and parked the car. We were immediately smothered in the rich musical calls of a male Bellbird courting a female. He would puff himself up like a bellows and then expunge the melodic enticement to arouse her attentions. Hopping from branch to branch, this little fellow followed the coy wanderings of the female without pause, like a wee green cotton ball tied to her leg.

I was soon reminded to focus on putting my stuff together so we could hit the trail. So, leaving these two to their indeterminate fate, I pulled on my boots and added some of Toms' food to my bag. Then it was off across the wee stream and around the hill, following the sheep.

Once around the hill, we came to the swing bridge that would take us across the river and to the base of our mountain.

Once we were across, we left the trail and headed up onto the snake-like ridge that came down the mountain to meet the river where we had crossed. After a short bush-bash we emerged onto a bald patch of the ridge and decided on a route for our ascent up the hill.

Of course, once in the dense tangle of beech forest it was difficult to determine which way we should head. Led more by the open spaces between the trees than an overall direction, we attempted to keep a course up slope. But this was periodically challenged by a thicket of tangled branches and clinging vines (appropriately named bush lawyer).

After a rough struggle through this maze of scratchy branches and clingy climbers, we emerged at the base of a steep, but open slope. We decided to follow it up along the edge of the forest, hoping for some easing in making our way up. Unfortunately, this open slope was covered in our friend the Wild Spaniard/Taramea, also known in our family as 'spikey death grass'. I was glad to be wearing long pants to provide some protection to my legs, but could definitely feel they didn't do much.

Despite having to avoid these sharp, pointy plants, the way was easier - I think. With my head down, I put one foot in front of the other, singing whatever song floated through my head to keep my mind focused on moving and not on how much my calves and thighs burned from the climb.

We stopped for a quick lunch (and nap) part way up the hill. Stephen was happily leading the march, while Tom and I straggled at the back (him with a sore head from a celebratory night before and me from simply being slow). The two of us were happy to simply follow where Stephen led, which when it came to the snowy bits made for easier climbing.

Eventually, we made it to the top of the ridge. Exhausted from the intense climb, we looked around and enjoyed the glorious view towards Lake Sumner and the Sisters range to our East and South. Unfortunately, this was not the summit of the mountain and we still had a ways to go to get there, along the ridge and down the other side where our hut was waiting for us. But with the sun still shining over us, we were not worried about getting there.

Rather than climb up and over the rest of the mountain, we decided to side slope around. Figuring that this would be an easier and hopefully faster way of getting round to where we wanted to go. So, clinging to the rocky, scree slopes we carefully made our way around the side of the mountain. Although the spikey death grass was much rarer here, there were other things to try and avoid - like slipping down the scree and off the side of the mountain itself.

Fortunately, we were all sure-footed enough and successfully reached the far side of the ridge. It was getting noticeably late in the afternoon by this point and we were still not all that close. Although we were on the right side of the summit now, we still had a ways to go along the top before getting to the right ridge that would drop us down gently enough and on the right side of the mountain. Our pace increased and we marched along the summit ridge with renewed purpose and energy. Although my legs were like jelly from the climb and the careful side sloping, I forced them on wards - thinking about the cosy hut we would be sleeping in tonight.

By the time we got to the ridge the moon was up and the sky was quickly turning to dusk. As we dropped down towards the river (and our hut), the grassy open slope turned to beech brush and soon we were submerged in the thick branches of the scraggy trees again. This time in the dark.

It is an interesting endeavor trying to find ones way in thick brush in the dark with a head lamp on. I couldn't tell you which is easier, with it on or off. With the light you can see only the immediate branches around your face, which I suppose allows you to avoid getting hit in the face. But you tend to feel trapped and almost claustrophobic as everything beyond is utter blackness. We worked our way down the hill in a random sort of way, meeting up every once in a while using Marco Polo to find each other. Finally, the sound of rushing water arrived in our ears, the brush opened up and we found the whisperings of a trail that would take us to our hut.

After 5 or so river crossings and what seemed miles (in fact was about 700 metres) we made it to a clearing and our wee hut. Tom cooked a magnificent meal of five-spice pork with udon noodles and chinese cabbage and we fell, utterly spent, into bed.

The next morning we awoke to an uncanny silence. The kind of silence I had not heard for so long. The silence of freshly fallen snow.

The world outside had been transformed overnight from a dark, sharp unknown to a bright, soft whiteness. The snow was heavy and wet and blanketed the forest around us with it's thickness. It was glorious. We decided that perhaps we should make a good start to see if we were going to be able to get home.

The hike back to the car was fairly uneventful. We followed the trail this time, shaving a good 4 hours off our trip time. Enjoying the beauty of the snow while it lasted, then resigning ourselves to soaking wet feet from the puddles and mud it created.

We eventually emerged from the narrow valley and into the farmed land beyond. We wandered amongst the cows and grasses and rejoiced in the easiness of the trail over our previous days trek. We were in high spirits as we rounded the mountain in the sun and were startled when seemingly out of nowhere, we were pounded by hail and snow and slush all at once. The last hour of the hike we trudged on with our heads down, set only on arriving at the car.

Finally, cold, wet and exhilarated, we crossed the swing bridge and walked the last 500 metres to the car, no sign of our romantic pair here today. We changed into dry warm clothes and drove carefully back along the farm track to the highway and onto Christchurch, where the sun was shining - though there were the threatening clouds of a Southerly on the horizon. Tomorrow would be interesting, but we were home. Exhausted from our weekend way, I curled up in front of the pellet fire like a cat and slept, dreaming of the snow I might wake up to in the morning.

Snow Day!

2011-08-06T16:47:00.000-07:00

[A snowman beside the Heathcote River in front of some Cabbage Trees]

A couple weeks ago, while Stephen was still on school holiday it snowed. In Christchurch. Great, big, fat flakes of soft, wet snow. The last time it did this was 1992.

On Sunday night, after a rather nice, but cool day, it started to rain. And then the temperature started to drop. Stephen lit the burner under the bathtub outside and we sat in the steaming hot water while clumsy, wet drops of slushie snow fell on our heads. We watched as the garden slowly became white with the stuff. Once the water had cooled to a tepid body temperature we slip, slided our way across the yard and into our warm beds.

[Smaug preferred looking out at the snow from inside the house - though she did venture out more than once]

At 5am Stephen couldn't handle it any longer, he crawled out of bed and ran to the window to peak outside. The world had become a winter wonderland and the snow was still falling. The thing that got me most was the silence, with no one out driving the night was as quiet as I remember growing up in the Yukon forest. When I eventually emerged from bed at 7am (practically unheard of in this household) there was a fire roaring in the stove and a gorgeous world awaiting outside - just what winter should be for this Canadian. We made up some tasty cinnamon buns and ran outside to play in the snow.

[The backyard filled with snow]

Snowmen, snowballs, and simply walking in the stuff was enough to keep us smiling from ear to ear. We wandered up the quiet road to visit friends and invite them for cinnamon buns. As we wandered back we ran into families sledding down driveways on anything they could get their hands on, boogie boards, plastic bags, and snow boards. Everyone was happy and smiling. It was wonderful.

[Waiting for the bus - which never came]

[Japonica covered in snow]

The snow lasted for another day and a half. In fact, in the dark depths of shaded nooks you can still find clusters of dirty snow hanging on for dear life. But now we are left with only the photos and memories - another "Great Snowfall" for the history books [http://christchurchcitylibraries.com/Science/Earth/Weather/Snow/].

[Big Snow - 1945 - Mr Bettle outside his shop in Heathcote Valley. Image take from http://christchurchcitylibraries.com/Heritage/Photos/GimblettCollection/Gimblett-0084.asp]

Honeydew

2011-08-05T20:47:00.001-07:00

[Walking back down into the beech forest at Woolshed Creek]

On our way back from Hakatere, we stopped for a hike up Woolshed creek. Much of the trail meandered through beech forest, some of what's left of New Zealand's native forest. One thing that has always puzzled me on my various excursions into the beech forest were the seemingly random trees that were entirely covered in a black powdery substance with little white tendrils sticking out. This time, on the vague memory of something our honey seller at the Farmer's Market had told me, I bent to a blackened beech and tasted the tiny droplet of liquid hanging on the end of the white tendril. It was delicious! And it's called honeydew.

[Harvesting Honeydew the slow way]

Now honeydew is tasty, but you certainly have to wrap your mind around it's source in order to fully enjoy this tasty forest treat. Honeydew is the excretion of a tiny scale insect that lives under the bark of the tree. The white tubules that extends out of the trunk are posterior extensions of the tiny Ultracoelostoma brittini, which when they bite into the phloem of the tree (where the sap runs) exudes the sap that is pushed through the insects body due to the high pressure. Not all that appetizing to think about, but the flavour you get from the tiny droplet is amazing. Honeydew is collected by bees, though not in the same way I did with my tongue. Instead, the bees forage under the bark to where the insects are tucked away.

[Photo of tubules from http://www.airborne.co.nz/hnydew.shtml]

Also of interest, is why the trees turn the fuzzy black colour. When the insects bite into the phloem, sap invariably runs outside the insect and down the trees' trunk. It is on this sticky substrate that a black sooty mould grows (Capnodium). Often the mould extends quite a ways around the base of the tree, making it look like a fire burn.

I love learning about the wonders of the forest here, especially when there's delicious food involved. The world is a pretty special place and finding these treasures makes it that much more fun.

{Most of the information was taken from the Airborne's New Zealand Honey Collections Website at http://www.airborne.co.nz/hnydew.shtml}

Hakatere

2011-08-05T14:37:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago now, we found the most beautiful valley in New Zealand. It was Stephen's school break and we decided we wanted to get out of town for a bit. So we looked at a map and picked some huts to hike to. With our bags packed full of sleeping bags, stove, warm clothes (it is winter here after all) and some tasty food, we headed out of town and into the mountains. We were going to Mt. Potts.

[Heading towards the trail head]

The drive through Canterbury was much the same as it always is - flat, broken up with the high windbreak treelines, dotted (often crammed) with sheep and cows. We were momentarily held up behind a herd of cattle being moved from one pen to the next, but the farmer was kind enough to break a path for us through the throng. Eventually we made it to the mountains and the gravel road that would take us to our trail head. Driving through a wide, glacial valley, we searched for the gorge we were to hike up. Past a lovely lake overrun with baches, around the side of the hill and suddenly the ground dropped away to the Potts River gorge and into the huge, wide, glorious Hakatere Conservation area.

[The Potts River gorge]

We parked our car just on the other side of the bridge and headed up the river. The first part of the hike was easy, on a farming road along the fence line. But we eyed the steep valley walls with trepidation, knowing that eventually we would have to climb up somewhere. Of course, by waiting until the last possible moment to climb, we were left with a less than suitable gully to ascend. We scrabbled up the steep gravel incline, sliding down almost as much as we gained. After struggling over a rather sharp hoodoo, we finally made it to the top of the gully and looked down on our progress. Whew! Then we turned around to face the sea of huge tussocks we would have to wade through on the plateau we had reached. Nothing for it, we headed off.

[Tikumu - a type of daisy up on the plateau]

Soon there was skiff of snow, then there was a good layer, and before we knew it we were struggling through thigh deep wet, heavy snow. The sweat on my face and back were making me as damp as the random ponds we were stumbling across due to the snow cover. We eventually reached the far edge of the plateau and took a small break to look at the map. It had begun to snow more and more heavily and we were exhausted from our hike so far, we needed to see that we were close. Unfortunately, we were still less than half way. Checking my camera's memory we figured we'd been going for just over 3 hours and there was quite a ways to go - mostly through the deep snow. It was getting darker and colder the longer we stood there. A decision had to be made.

[Getting into the deep snow]

[It was easier to find moments of beauty on the way back than the way up]

With our heads hung low (though, not too much, there was a certain amount of relief there as well), we turned around and headed back towards the car. Facing this direction we became aware of the sharp contrast between the way we had been going and the valley behind us. While our planned route was filled with dark clouds dumping snow by the bucketful, the valley we were now returning to was filling with the golden light of the dipping sun and blue sky. It was remarkable and it certainly made our decision that much more bearable.

[Catching the last rays of sunshine]

[Basking in the glow of the sun - once we found it again]

Two hours later, as the sun was just disappearing behind the mountains, we reached the car and pulled out our stove. We had decided to cook up some dinner and then sort out the back of the car for sleeping in. As we waited for the sausages to finish cooking, a farmer pulled up in his work truck along side us. We chatted for a bit and he kindly offered us a bed at his house just up the road. So, after he left, we scoffed our dinner, threw our stuff in the car and headed down the road.

Matt welcomed us on the porch, told us to drop our bags in the deliciously warm room and join him for a beer. We talked with him and his wife and 2 year old son until we were all tired. Collapsing into our bed we noticed we had a wee guest with us - their kitten liked our room as it had heated floors. So the three of us curled up for a lovely nights sleep.

[Sunset behind Mount D'Artango]

[Mount Potts Station - our view in the morning]

The next morning, after breakfast, we joined Matt in his farm duties of feeding the cattle and deer and goats. Then thanked our hosts profusely before heading further up the valley to Mount Sunday, the Roche Montaine used in the Lord of the Rings for the home of the riders of Rohan - Edoras. Unfortunately, our only company on the hike were the cattle that grazed there. But they were kind enough to let us pass and we admired the view of the expansive valley to the surrounding mountains. After returning to the car, we had a leisurely lunch and headed home. Although we hadn't achieved what we set out to do, we had enjoyed a thoroughly lovely weekend. This was definitely a place we would have to return to.

[Mount Potts in the middle]

[The view from Mount Sunday looking West]

Newest Neighbours

2011-07-13T17:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, while at the Butcher, I bought a suet bird feeder. Growing up the Yukon, mom would hang one outside the living room window each winter and we would marvel at the different birds that would come to feed there. While it doesn't get quite as cold here in the winters, there are lots of birds here that are up for a feed. And since we moved closer to the Port Hills we have seen far more natives like the Bellbird. So I decided to hang out a wee feeder and see who would come calling.

So far our most popular guest has been the Silver Eye. A wee green bird who was first noticed in New Zealand in the mid 19th-century. It is largely assumed that a storm diverted a flock of them from Australia and they ended up here (http://www.nzbirds.com/birds/tauhou.html). The Maori names seems to support this, as Tauhou means "stranger". So they were obviously a new creature for them as well. I have enjoyed watching them flit about outside the dinning room window, chasing each other and fluttering their wings along their backs, in what I am assuming is a territorial manner.

[A plump wee Silver-Eye waiting for his turn at the feeder]

My newest guest, just showed up this morning. A green finch, another greenish-yellowy bird, whose presence seems to calm the Silver-Eyes somewhat allowing them to spend more time eating and less fluttering about.

It is a lovely distraction to have and one that allows me to break from my work at the computer for as long or as short as I need. The cat too, seems to enjoy this new found pastime of bird watching.

Happy (day after) Canada Day!

2011-07-02T04:04:00.000-07:00

A red, white and grey quilt for Stephen (with elephants of course)

It is a strange thing to celebrate your country when you are not living there. Most notably, no one else is wearing red and white and singing the Canadian national anthem (though I will admit it rolled off my tongue more than once as I was biking about). In fact it seemed no more than a quaint little bit of information when I mentioned it to anyone. And I suppose why wouldn't it, with no investment or connection to the place it really is just a small factoid to roll through the brain before passing onto more pressing things like what to have for lunch. Much like Antarctica, Canada is simply just another place living in the depths of peoples' imaginations here, which is why it is so wonderful and almost self-affirming to be able to celebrate our national holiday with other Canadians. Little things like maple cookies passed out at school, and eating tomato soup (red) and grilled cheese sandwhiches (white) are great, but being able to sit down and play crokinole while eating maple pecan pie, all whilst talking about growing up in different parts of Canada. That is what made my Canada Day this year and reminds me of what makes being a Canadian so special.

Hope everyone had a great day today and has a wonderful weekend.

A Wet Day

2011-06-19T21:42:00.001-07:00

It has been wet all day here. Not great for biking, not great for hanging laundry, but oh so perfect for naps in the afternoon with the cat.

Home at last

2011-06-14T03:30:00.000-07:00

[The door to the sunroom/office/craft room]

Last Friday we finally got the keys to our new house - our first house. We were so thrilled that the drizzling rain didn't dampen our spirits (only the bed and couches) as we moved furniture and stuff the five blocks from our rental place to our house. We spent the weekend settling in and on Monday, as probably most of you know, we were struck with another jarring earthquake. In fact, it was a series of relatively sizable ones. And frankly, the second thing to cross my mind (after my husband) was the house. I must say, owning a house adds a whole new dimension to these earth shakes. We're certainly not regretting buying, but it's just another thing to think about in these interesting times.

[The dining table, front door and deck]

But onto the fun stuff. The "quake day" we had today (Tuesday - while engineers check buildings and city and service workers tirelessly ensure we have water and power) allowed me to do the final settling in. This does not, of course, include putting art on the walls as that would make no sense here in Christchurch, since it only ever lasts a few hours or days before it's knocked down again. Fabric art is making a resurgence. Despite the ongoing shaking here, Stephen and I managed to get quite a bit down to make this place our own - putting books in shelves, hanging clothes in closets and raking leaves from the lawn. I'm learning all about the little things my parents did around the house that I never paid attention to, like caulking the windows, and all the things I used to hate doing, somehow have a certain glamor to them as they have new meaning to me.

[Master bedroom - unfortuntaly, we can't take the wallpaper down until our EQC inspection and that probably won't happen until at least the summer - oh well]

Ever since arriving on that blustery Friday afternoon, the house has felt warm and inviting (especially with the fire going in the lounge). At one point when I was putting things away in the hall closet it felt almost like I was just coming home from a trip and was putting things away in their places. I think both Stephen and I have had a hard time not smiling lately and we are thrilled with this new adventure of home ownership. I definitely recommend it to anyone interested!

[Cooking dinner in our new, lovely, large kitchen]

We have lots of dreams for this home and we can't wait to get started. Unfortunately, we can't get started until our Earthquake Commission (EQC) assessment. Though I suppose this will keep us from rushing into doing anything without thinking first. From the sounds of it, we will have lots and LOTS of time to dream and plan and plan and dream and wait. I'm still working on developing my patience.

Outside

2011-06-04T22:07:00.001-07:00

For the past two weeks or so, we have been running past and visiting our house. Our friends dog, whom we take with us, has become so used to it she automatically turns up the driveway when we go by. It was an absolutely fabulous feeling when running by this weekend, we came round the corner and there was a big orange SOLD sticker on the sign. My heart just about jumped out my throat I was so excited.

Looking from the street up the driveway

Stairways in the backyard going up to the 'front' door

Our lovely deck and our front door

Not long now and we'll have some inside shots too!

Unconditional

2011-06-02T16:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, we officially bought a house.

Here.

In Christchurch.

We weren't really looking. The idea of purchasing a property had been floating around in our heads for a while, but we figured since we weren't residents we wouldn't be able to get a mortgage. So we never really looked. But we did keep our eyes open, because once we were ready to buy we wanted to have a pretty good understanding of where the market was at. And that's how we found our house.

Early in May, we decided to spend a sunny Sunday afternoon biking around between open homes in the area we wanted to eventually buy in. We went to one well over our price range and wandered about, looking for earthquake damage and talking about how the owners had finished the rooms. It was a cute house, nicely finished, but too much for a first house and too finished for our desires.

Then we stumbled across the second house. Following open home signs down roads to a treed-in drive up a wee slope. We parked our bikes beside the retaining wall and walked around back to the door. It was a 1930's wooden villa on a little hill surrounded by trees and shrubs and a little pond. Up some stone steps we came to the deck and french doors into a spacious dinning room and kitchen. The Realtor was there to answer questions and gather our info. We wandered through the kitchen and into the rest of the house. Not a huge house, but lovely with all it's period features (like lead windows and beautiful wooden detailing). A large master bedroom, a sunny sun room, huge living area, nice second bedroom and a well maintained bathroom. Outside, tucked into the back corner under a rose covered arbor was a stainless steel bathtub, ready to be filled and enjoyed. We stayed the full hour asking the Realtor about the house and how exactly one would go about buying one. He passed on the name of his mortgage broker and we were off. My head filled with images of where I would put what and when we could get everything in.

The next day, we called the mortgage broker and were surprised to hear that despite our non-residency status it was possible to get a mortgage, it was just a wee bit more difficult. The wheels were set in motion and soon things were happening. Things I wasn't even aware of, but a week later we were promised a mortgage. I called the Realtor that night and told him we wanted to make an offer.

The next two days were stressful as we put in our offer, almost lost to another bidder (who pulled out last minute) and in the end, were accepted.

Then the real fun began. Lots and lots of contracts, paperwork and forms. Over the last few weeks, we have organized insurance (a bit difficult here these days, what with our earthquakes and all), contacted the lawyer, got a building inspection done and even chosen the mortgage. It has been rather crazy. And now, all we need to do to finish up is find someone to take over our rental flat (we have no desire to be paying both a mortgage and rent).

Overall, I have been thoroughly amazed at how easy the whole process has been. I know it is their respective jobs to know what they're doing and help us through, but the efficiency and openness all our respective 'people' (realtor, mortgage broker and lawyer) have provided us has been eye opening. With my only previous experience in real estate being through the television screen, I have learned a great deal from this. Mostly, that it is a lot easier than I thought to buy a house (though I fully admit, the wonderful house almost falling into our laps did take a lot of the stress of looking out of it).

Now, we must patiently wait and pack. Soon, I will be able to sit curled up in front of my very own fireplace in my very own living room and knit (or sew or read or whatever I want to do, heck, I could even paint the walls a funny colour, or take them down. . . . .

PS I'l have pictures soon!

Birthday Weekend

2011-05-20T16:11:00.000-07:00

It's been a wee while since I wrote here. Lots has been happening and I've had little time to reflect on what exactly that has been. But now, I'm taking the time to put something up I've had floating about in my head for a while.

In early February my parents gave me a birthday present. Unfortunately, they weren't here and I wasn't there with them. So instead of a book or something else, they gave me an experience. I was to find either a cooking class or sailing trip that could be made into a weekend away and they would pay. After searching about on the internet, I settled on the Akaroa Cooking School. A relatively new business in Akaroa on the other side of the Banks Peninsula from Christchurch. We found ourselves a cute little cottage to stay in, through Kokopu Estates and we were set.

After coming home from work Friday afternoon, we spent some time racking the leaves and packing our bags. Finally, we got into our (new) car and headed out of town towards Akaroa. It's about a 2 hour drive, and unfortunately, we left with not quite enough time to get there in the light. So we spent a good 10 minutes driving around in the dark before we found the right road up behind Akaroa and discovered our cosy little cottage beside a wee creek. We unloaded our weekend supplies (telescope, quilting, food and clothes) and made our way back into town to find some dinner. After a delicious meal at an Italian restaurant, we set up the telescope and spent the night staring up at the stars.

[Kokopu Cottage - our home away from home for the weekend]

[Consulting the star chart to locate our next destination for the telescope]

The next day we relaxed. We wandered along the beach in Akaroa, found some food for dinner that night, discovered the wood-fired bath and made use of it and, ultimately, we relaxed. It was a gloriously sunny day, with Bell birds singing all around us, the babbling brook laughing along and the ripe apples and feijoas just falling into our hands asking to be eaten. In the evening, we cooked up some local salmon with a tasty feijoa salad and some couscous, then climbed into bed to make sure we were well rested for our busy day of cooking ahead.

The next morning, after packing up, we arrived at the cooking school at 10am in time to imbibe in a lovely breakfast tart and learn about what we were to be cooking that day. From rhubarb to lamb, sorbet to smoking, we were going to do a lot of cooking. We put on our aprons and got right into it. We began by making up the chocolate sorbet so it would have enough time to cool. Then we moved onto the beetroot relish for a later dish. Finally, we made up some delicious poached rhubarb with a nut crumble and greek yoghurt. This was matched for our tasting pleasure with a nice glass of sparkling local wine. Then it was onto a wild mushroom risotto with truffle oil and yummy parmesean. After enjoying a plateful of this (with some really nice red wine), we went outside to hot smoke some salmon. This was made along with yoghurt and a lentil salad. Throughout the loveliness of making these tasty dishes we talked about food, starting and owning a food business and the joys of being your own boss (along with the more difficult bits). The entree dish we created was roasted lamb loin with a kumara puree (lots and lots of butter is the secret here), served with a herby mayonnaise, beetroot relish, and some steamed greens. Another delicious wine pairing later, we stumbled back into the kitchen to finish our day off. Chocolate sorbet (made at the start), berry compote and chocolate molten cake to be precise. All washed down with a tasty glass of locally made port. Fully satiated and feeling just a little bit torpid, we waddled out along the beach to recover for our drive home.

[Not only was there lots of food being created, but some great conversation too]

[Hot smoked salmon with Greek Yoghurt served on top of a puy lentil and spinach salad]

[Roasted lamb loin with kumara puree, beetroot relish, herb mayonnaise and veges]

[One plate of chocolatey goodness]

Once we had recovered enough, we drove up the hill and decided to take the scenic route home. Up along Summit Road, it takes a little longer, but the views were absolutely fantastic. One side of the hills were bright and sun filled while the other seemed to boil over with cloud. We stopped and watched at one point, where the clouds poured over a saddle and down into the adjacent valley. Eventually, we made our way home and went to bed without any dinner.

[The view Northwest along Summit Road]

Thank you mom and dad, it was an absolutely wonderful weekend.

Thanks Mom

2011-05-08T17:18:00.000-07:00

Happy Mothers Day mom. Thanks for being mine!

Banks Peninsula Track

2011-04-25T19:09:00.000-07:00

On April 12th, I picked up Stephen's mom at the airport. She was here for a quick two week visit and we were cramming in as much fun stuff as possible. For the first few days, while Stephen finished up his teaching before the term break, we stayed around Christchurch, exploring our new neighbourhood, sharing our earthquake experiences (and visit to our old place) and walks along the river. On Saturday, with our hiking bags packed we headed for the hills, to experience the Banks Peninsula Track.

The private organization that runs the track is made up of local farmers, conservationists and other landholders along the route. There is a strict limit to the numbers of people who can start the track each day, as there are only so many beds. So, we all met up in front of the information centre in Akaroa Friday night and clambered onto the bus that would take us out to the first hut at Onuku Bay.

The first night, we walked the 5 minutes from the bus to the hut, made up a quick dinner and crashed into bed. While Jan slept inside, Stephen and I opted to try one of the 'stargazer' huts dotted

in the neighbouring paddock. With a plexiglass used for the top third of the ceiling, one presumes on a clear night the stars would be visible from bed. Unfortunately, we were clouded in and so could not enjoy the stars as such. However, we were treated to strange bugling in the middle of the night from around the bay below us.

The following day, under the heavy shroud of mist and fog, we pulled on all our wet weather gear and made for the next bay. Despite the dampness of the air, it wasn't too cold and with the large climb we had, there was no trouble keeping warm. So, onwards we marched, through the wet grass and slippery mud.

Once we'd reached the summit of our climb for the day, we were treated to a lovely sign indicating which way to look for the view. After taking a moment to enjoy, we shuffled on back

down into the valley below. Which despite the seemingly suffocating mist simply sparkled with the diamond drops of rain and dew, giving us the surreal experience of walking through West Coast rain forest here on the East coast. Huge tree ferns shook gently as each drop of rain hit it, the red barked New Zealand fushia slowly shed its bark in long swirling strands of paper and the countless numbers of fantails followed us along seeming to escort us along our path, all the while scooping all any bugs we happened to disturb. Eventually

though, we emerged back into the farmed landscape of grass and gorse, with the promise of a dry bed at the distant end of the valley. . .Flea Bay.

We arrived, soaked to the core and shed our outer layers to hang by the fire. Back into dry clothes, we cooked up some late lunch and curled up on the comfy couch to read. People slowly trickled in and the lines in front of the living room fire filled with socks, shirts, and trousers. It was a cosy, if damp, cottage, but we all shared the space we had and games of cards soon started with ferocity.

The next morning we were woken early by the landowner who was just about to feed the

straggling Little Penguins as they fattened up for their winter at sea. Everyone trundled outside and around the corner to find a couple of still molting penguins waiting anxiously for some fish. With the feeding out of the way, our hostess told us that there were gusts of 55 knots expected for the day and if we were to stay around until lunchtime, we might catch a ride around to the next bay. The wind had certainly seemed a bit more bitey that morning.

We all went back to the cottage to see what the wind would do and decide whether a walk or a ride would be the way to go. After another hour of reading and relaxing, Stephen and I decided we wanted to walk and headed off up the track. Wow, was it windy. And more than a little high up at some points. We quickly adopted a technique of diving for the ground when a particularly large gust came along. It seemed the better alternative to being pushed over a cliff. The flip side of all this was having help with all the up hills. Just by opening your jacket and leaning back into the wind, you would be pushed, quite quickly, up the hill. Once on top of course, you would drop your jacket and stay well away from any edges.

Eventually, we reached Stony Bay, our next stop. And what a place. It reminded me of the fairy towns I used to imagine as a kid. With tiny cottages dotted throughout a clearing with several pear, apple and fig trees heavy with fruit. A shower house carved into an ancient tree and a fire

heated bath tucked away into a secluded shroud of ferns and trees. After dropping our bags into one of the two person hide-aways, I filled the tub and started a fire. This is what I had been looking forward to for a while now, since hearing about it from my parents on their foray down these shores. As the others finally arrived (they had decided to walk, but their bags were driven over), the bath reached completion and I sank into the warm waters with a glass of wine and just relaxed. No sore muscles here.

The following day, after a lovely night, we packed our things again and hit the trail. Off to our last bay, Otanerito. It was a beautiful hike, no dense fog restricting our views and not huge winds threatening to toss us off the sides of the cliffs. We wandered around the headlands, admiring the sea, the sky and the land around us. Finally, dropping through a dense thicket of Kanuka filled with Bellbirds, we arrived at the last hut - the old farmhouse for Otanerito Bay.

Arriving at about noon, we had lots of time for naps, lunch and even a short trek into the neighboring natural forest preserve of Hinewai. We wandered down the beach, watching seals and Oystercatchers, picking up the random bits of humaness that had floated in on the tide. And after a tasty dinner, we whiled away the hours playing Pictionnary and reading about Hinewai.

The next day, our final day, took us up through Hinewai. Through stands of regenerating native forest, from Kanuka to Totara and the surprising non-native gorse, that served as a nursery for young natives. We eventually came out at the top, and wandered over to the saddle and down back into Akaroa. We collected our bags (carried over for those who wished) and enjoyed a lovely cup of tea before heading home.

Filling Gaps

2011-04-09T22:25:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, it was fun fair day!

And we were running a stall.

It all started last weekend when our friend who had hosted us at his house for two weeks told us about Gap Filler. Gap Filler, is a community-run program organized by one woman who was made redundant from the earthquake and wanted to give to the community and help rebuild the city. Their goal is to find empty gaps created by fallen buildings from the earthquake and fill them with events - live music, movies, fairs, and more. Last Sunday, we went to watch some live music and an arts film and found out about the fair.

We spent all week deciding what sorts of games we might host. Come Friday night, we were working madly in the kitchen making fudge and candy corn for prizes and picking up all the hammers and nails we could scrounge. On Saturday morning, we woke up and crammed the car full of wood, hammers, nails, fudge and candy corn, then drove off to the church where the fair was to take place. I helped Stephen unpack the car and setup before taking off for a quick trip to the market to load up on our weekly fruit and vege needs. By the time I returned the fair was in full swing and there were people everywhere.

[Our Hammer Time stall was a big hit with the kids who just wanted to bash things]

[An egg and spoon race contestant]

[I believe there were about a dozen different places to purchase cupcakes - my favorite was the cookie monster cupcake, complete with cookie]

[As mentioned above, one of the many purveyors of cupcake]

[There was live music throughout the day - ranging from church choir to high school band t0 professional musicians]

[Three-legged race - there was tough competition for the prize; a native tree seedling]

[The awesomeness that is pancake racing - one must run down the course and stop at the cans to flip the pancake, pass it to your team mate and repeat]

[Yes, there were even stilt walkers - it isn't really a fair without them]

Stephen and I spent the next few hours hawking our hammering activity, timing races and giving away chocolate fudge. Although kids made up the majority of our participants, we had adults too, racing each other and trying to beat the 20 second competition - our record was 7 1/4 nails. We each took the chance to wander as well, but we were placed around the perimetre of the race course, so we were well entertained with egg and spoon races, three-legged races, and pancake races. We saw friends who came to enjoy the fair and met all sorts of great people in the community. And at the end of the day, we even got to watch some Morris dancers (please see this film for more info).

[The closing act - Morris Dancers, complete with ribbons, bells and sticks]

[An absolutely lovely day of music, fun and games]

At 4pm, we packed up our stand, gave in our earnings (for the Red Cross and future events like this one) and headed home. It had been a glorious autumn day and we were ready for a relaxing night in.

Hou whare - New home

2011-03-29T16:13:00.000-07:00

It has been awhile since I've posted here. Things have been somewhat up the air of late and it has been difficult to focus on anything outside the immediate. But now, we have a home, filled with the gifts of friends and we are slowly finding our way back to the new normal.

I won't dwell on the earthquake story. There are so many out there and for me it is nice to look forward. Leave it at the whole experience was scary, humbling, maddening, saddening, and one of change, both of the present and the future. Living through a natural disaster, where you have absolutely no control is the most humbling and frightening experience I can imagine for anyone. And yet, I cannot hide the absolute amazement at being there to see and feel the things I learned about in university. In all, a confusing time.

After two weeks of intense searching, we were lucky enough to find a lovely place to settle. On the other side of town from our previous house, it is on the side of town less widely damaged by the earthquake. Don't take me wrong, there is still damage and collapsed homes. But, overall the streets are relatively less buckled, the services are working (generally) and (unfortunately) things seem to happen a little more quickly here (service wise). The house itself is the least damaged of all the ones we viewed and definitely the most lovely and spacious.

Welcome to my home. We have been here just over two weeks and things are coming together wonderfully, furniture from friends, artwork scrounged from our old house and from my sewing machine and the things we were able to save from the rubble.

[Living room wall of family]

[Bathroom]

[Hallway library]

[Bedroom]

[Craft room/office/guest room]

[Mmmmm! Dinner at our new dining room table]

Being Homeless

2011-02-25T20:21:00.000-08:00

It sucks.

But the number of people who are willing to open their homes and their hearts makes it that much less traumatic.

Being an Immigrant

2011-02-20T11:25:00.000-08:00

[Chest x-ray required from Immigration NZ]

It dawned on me early this month that I am an immigrant and have been for 2 years. It might seem a little strange that it has taken me this long to realize it, but there is a difference between coming to a new country as a visitor with plans on when you will be leaving and coming for the next step along your life with no real idea of where you will go afterwards. And, coming up to my last year here in my PhD, I am realizing that we have very little idea of where we would like to go after I finish. This has led us to apply for residency here in New Zealand and brought about the realization of being an immigrant.

Growing up in Canada of course, I am descended from immigrants. Some quite recent, as my mom was born in Scotland and moved to Canada when she was 6 years old. But I never really thought about it because I had grown up there and I felt I belonged. No one identified me outright as being different for it, in fact, I was among the majority, as a descendant of European heritage. My friends and I would talk about where our parents, or grandparents had grown up and laugh about how certain stereotypes of that heritage we thought as evident (or funny) in each others personalities, and then we would turn to more interesting and pressing matters, like school and boys and what we should do now.

New Zealand feels much different. Although we look the same as the majority of people here in Christchurch, our accents identify us as being different. We are called "the Canadians", not Erin or Stephen. And in the summer months, we are often asked by store owners "Where are you from?", "How are you liking New Zealand?". These are all small things, but they get at you. They put you in a box and that box is labeled "Other". It is a surprisingly different feeling than I have ever experienced - not belonging. Sometimes it's neat to be unique, but a lot of the time, it is lonely and hard to be identified on the sole basis of the place you were born or grew up in.

We have decided to take on the challenge of becoming residents here in New Zealand. Spending hours filling out online forms, searching the dark recesses of our desks and bookshelves for every scrap of paperwork that proves we are who we say we are, and waiting endlessly for any sign of acknowledgement. It certainly makes you question who you think you are. And reminds you how comfortable it is to belong, how at the bottom of everything, that is what we really, really want. To be seen for who we are as individuals and accepted as belonging for just that - ourself.

Kayaking Stewart Island

2011-02-06T16:12:00.000-08:00

After spending the evening wandering the village of Oban in gale force winds, we snuggled into our beds and wished for calm winds the next day. We were lucky enough to get our wish, so we headed over the hill to Watercress Bay and found someone with boats.

[Watercress Bay in the sunshine]

[Kayaks for rent]

[Getting all geared up]

Once we were all set up with boats and paddles and maps and stuff, we pushed out into the calm waters of Paterson Inlet. We paddled up the inlet to a spot where our kayak outfitter had suggested we might find some penguins. After a good half hour paddle we were rewarded not only with some Little Blue penguins looking for lunch, but a rare Yellow-Eye.

[Yellow-Eyed penguin]

We watched him paddle around, checking under water every so often to find a fish and then dive. We paddled on along the bushy coast towards a slew of little beaches tucked away from the waves and pulled out on one of them. With our lunch in hand, we settled on some rocks and enjoyed the lovely weather.

[Lunch on the rocks]

After lunch, we pushed back out to a somewhat choppier sea. Within a few minutes though we had found our rhythm and decided to head on over to Ulva Island, a nearby, predator free island which promises some unique bird viewing opportunities.

[The Weka Welcoming Committee]

Upon our arrival we were met by the Weka Welcoming committee. These forward and very cheeky little birds surprised Stephen by stealing a cracker from his hand. The momma bird then proceeded to bash it on the ground with her bill to break it into bite-sized pieces for her wee (or not so wee) chick. As we are not great believers in feeding wildlife from our hands (though it seems a little late here), Stephen removed what was left of the cracker from the birds and placed it in a location he thought safe from roving Wekas - out on the back of the kayak, which was still in the water. This proved not to be the case.

For, just as Stephen left, the momma bird walked straight out into the sea, jumped onto the boat and promptly found the remainders of her prize. She and her chick then ran to the other end of the beach to do away with their winnings in a less bothersome location. We all laughed.

The rest of the islands bird residents proved far less cheeky. We wandered along a bit of the trails and found kereru, or New Zealand wood pigeon, and Stewart Island robins, as well as, a few more Wekas. The restoration of Ulva Island to a predator-free island began in the late 90's and took some seven years, with thorough trapping of rats, stoats, and weasels. Unfortunately, when we were leaving there was rumour that some 20 or so rats had been seen on the island. So, more trapping will have to be done once again. However, in our short time there, it was amazing to just listen to the difference. The bird song variety and sheer amount was like nothing I've heard elsewhere in New Zealand.

We then paddled back across the inlet and left our kayaks for the road. While Stephen and Ben spent the afternoon hitting golf balls at the second most Southerly golf course in the world, I wandered through town, window shopped and went through the exhibit at the DOC office. In the evening, Stephen and I went for a wander to the point and watched some Little Blue penguins scramble ashore and up very steep cliffs. We decided we could only handle watching one as the stress involved in watching a small, water-built bird climb a near vertical slippery slope in the dark is not easy on the heart. So we wandered back to the hostel and climbed into bed for one last night on Stewart Island.

[Sunset over Oban]

The next morning, we packed our things and got on the ferry back to Bluff. The wind had remained calm-ish and the trip back was much easier to take than the one there. We were even treated to watching flocks of Titi, or Muttonbirds, or Sooty Shearwaters as we passed through the small islands where Maori still go to collect the chicks in the summer.

Stewart Island

2011-01-29T14:16:00.001-08:00

After our outing to Castle Rock and Cave Stream, we were eager to get further away and see some of the country we hadn't yet visited. So, after some planning, a little shopping, and a wee bit of packing we hopped in the car and drove South. We were heading to Bluff at the bottom of the South Island where we would jump onto a ferry and finish off on Stewart Island - otherwise known as, Te Punga o Te Waka a Maui (the anchor stone of Maui's Canoe), which links to the creation story of New Zealand, or more commonly as, Rakiura (the great and deep blushing of Te Rakitamau) for a Maori chieftain who is now seen as the sunrise and sunsets and aurora australis (southern lights). It is a place well-known for being one of the last vestiges of New Zealand native bush and birds, a great place to catch a glimpse of the infamous kiwi. The photos here are an assortment from our trip there and all the splendorous things we saw there. Hope you enjoy!

[Waiting for the ferry in Bluff]

[Bluff is one of the largest ports in New Zealand]

[Halfmoon Bay, Oban - Oban is the only town on Stewart Island]

[Oban]

[Oban waterfront]

[Chess on the beach]

[Territorial Oyster Catchers]

[Golden Bay - where our shuttle left from to take us up to Freshwater Hut]

[Driving through Paterson Inlet and up the river]

[Going up the Freshwater River]

[A load of trampers waiting to board the shuttle heading back to Oban]

[The Freshwater River - reminded me of a jungle river with dense forest to the waters edge]

[Leaving Freshwater Hut]

[Native New Zealand bush]

[Our favorite DOC bridges and hiking up Rocky Mountain]

[Our first kiwi!]

[The top of Rocky Mountain]

[Native forest with ferns galore, rata trees and lots more]

[Much of Stewart Island is made of muck]

[But the hiking is still fantastic]

[A friendly little Stewart Island robin]

[Happy people are more fun]

[Almost there]

[Finally arrived - escaping the sand flies with some inside time]

[Masons Bay]

[Exploring the beach]

[Little Blue penguin]

[Sand dunes]

[Walking back through the Chocolate Swamp - all the little white things are spider nests]

[Trail types]

[Yet another friendly visitor]

[Our ride returned and we were taken back to Oban]

[Through big waves and heavy wind]

We tucked into a hostel that night and hoped for good weather the next day so we could go kayaking.

Beetroot Ravioli with Broad Bean Pesto

2011-01-24T14:36:00.000-08:00

Mmmmmmmmmm!

For months now I've wanted to make some home made ravioli. We've made lots of home made pasta before, but there's something about ravioli that is just that much better when home made (at least in my head). So, I finally decided that this Saturday I would find some tasty morsels at the market to put into a ravioli. Beetroots and broad beans were the thing, along with some delicious goats cheese parmesan and some ricotta.

Now the great thing about ravioli is that you don't really need a pasta machine. You can simply hand roll the pasta using a rolling pin. It might not be as thin as with a machine, but there's that hand made quality that only comes from, well, your hands. So with our fresh produce from the market and some tasty herbs from the garden, we got at it.

I found this recipe online at the Jamie Oliver website. The original recipe can be found here. But I've included my own version of it here for you. Have fun!

Beetroot ravioli with broad bean pesto

Ingredients

For Filling:

2 beetroots (about the size of your fist - no, not his, yours)

250g mascarpone (or ricotta)

~2 inch piece of parmesan, grated

Freshly ground black pepper

For the pesto:

40-50 podded broad beans

2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed

50g grated parmesan

1/2 tsp sea salt

Some pepper

30g fresh basil leaves

10g fresh mint leaves

1 tbsp unsalted butter

Juice and zest from 1 lemon

50-75 ml extra-virgin Olive oil

For the pasta:

300g flour

2 eggs

Pinch of salt

50ml water

1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

Method

For the Filling:

1. Boil the beets for ~1 hour, until cooked through. Remove from the water and peel skin once cool enough. Cut into 1 inch cubes.

2. Throw beets and mascarpone (or ricotta) into food processor and blitz until smooth. Dump into a bowl and add the parmesan and season. Mix together. Set aside.

For the pesto:

1. Throw all the ingredients (except the olive oil) into a food processor and mix until roughly chopped. Add a splash of olive oil and pulse. Keep adding oil and pulsing until you reach the consistency desired.

2. Place in a container and press plastic wrap (or a tight fitting lid) right down onto the surface of the pesto to keep air out (this will turn your pesto brown).

For the pasta:

1. Place flour and salt in a mound on work surface and make a well in the middle. Break your eggs into the centre. Add your olive oil and water. Using either a fork or your fingers, gently mix in the liquid ingredients with flour from the inside of the bowl. Don't worry if your bowl breaks and liquid escapes, just sprinkle some of your flour over top of it and mix it together.

2. Knead on counter until smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. If it is too wet add more flour, if too dry add a little water.

3. Once the dough has reached a good consistency, cut it into 4 pieces of equal size. Roll one out to ~1/2cm thickness and cut into circles using a cookie cutter, glass rim or jar. Keep cutting and re-rolling until all your dough is gone.

4. Pair up your circles and then roll them out as thin as possible. Brush one circle with water and start filling!

Assembly and cooking:

1. Place a heaped teaspoon of filling (or as much as you can) on the wet circle. Place the other circle on top and press down on the seams all around, trying not to let any filling escape.

2. Place completed ravioli on a dry tea towel and cover with another.

3. Bring some salted water to a boil. Cook your ravioli in batches to ensure they don't stick together for 3-5 minutes - until glossy and cooked through. Use a slotted spoon to remove cooked pasta. Drizzle with olive oil, plate and serve with some pesto.

Mmmmmm - tasty!

PS. We had some filling left over, so the next day we added it to our mashed potatoes and it was pretty tasty (and very pink).

Castle Hill & Cave Stream

2011-01-24T13:54:00.000-08:00

A friend from back in Whitehorse arrived in Christchurch last week for a visit. We warmly welcomed to our new home and stuffed him into the small space under our stairs with an air mattress and free room and board. We also excitedly looked forward to all the new exploring we could now do with someone to share New Zealand with. Since we only ever seem to get out of town when someone comes to visit there had been much dreaming about what to do this time.

We settled on doing some local exploring before heading out on a bigger trip (which I will cover a little later on). So, on Sunday, we packed up the car and headed out to Cave Stream and Castle Hill, both out in the Craigieburn Range.

The wind was howling and pushed the car around a bunch, but we eventually made it to the spot. We pulled into the relatively boring looking parking lot on the side of the road. This spot I had driven by a hundred times going to ski hills and tramps (which was always empty) was packed with people, both wet and dry. So we grabbed out flashlights and headed down the trail.

After cross the Broken River, we came around a bend and came to the mouth of the cave. A little trickle of water seeped through the gravel and out into the river, and a cool breath of air whispered out around us. I could hear the distant sound of laughing twisting its way down the tunnel. We turned on our lights and stepped into the dark mouth.

The first bit of the cave is a pool - up to my chest. This is promised to be the deepest part of the stream, but it is known as Cave Stream, so one must expect to get wet. With our breath stolen away in those first two minutes we walked deeper into the cave and out of sight of the entrance.

The stream twists and turns through the ground leaving a smooth walled tunnel for us to stumble through in excitement and awe. You can run your fingers along the walls and not hit anything sharp, they've all been sanded smooth by occasional flooding. Up waterfalls and through knee deep pools, around corners with multiple passageways and under ceilings that disappear in the darkness beyond the reach of my light.

We are not alone. This is a popular route, especially on a beautiful day such as this. We occasionally meet a group of three, trading the front with them. Though we both eventually catch up with the group of almost a dozen Chinese visitors filling the cave with laughter and camera flashes. They kindly let us by and their noise dims quickly as we wind our way round more twists and turns and up waterfalls.

After almost an hour we come to another deep pool with two waterfalls, one to get in and one to get out. We all dive into the pool to fully submerge ourselves in the cool cave waters before entering the bright world of sunshine and birds. Then it's up the ladder, along the squeeze and out into the light.

[The trail back]

[Looking back towards the mouth]

[Back to the car]

After getting back to the car, we eat some lunch and change into some dry clothes. We hop into the car and head off down the road to Castle Hill. Another neat place I've driven past so many times without stopping.

[Castle Hill Reserve]

[Large limestone rocks litter the slope]

[The trail winds between monoliths]

[Ben's limestone ship]

[Taking in the view]

[My rock bath]

We soon decide to head off home and get ready for our big trip. Off to Stewart Island!

Nor'wester

2011-01-16T21:58:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday was hot. By 10am, when Stephen and I went out to Lyttleton to shop it was already smoking and by lunch, when we returned it was about 32 degrees centigrade. We unloaded the food, planted the pepper plants we had purchased, ate some food and grabbed our swimsuits. Then, along with our friend visiting from Whitehorse, we climbed back into the car and drove up into the Port Hills.

We wandered about Godley Head, from gun placement to gun placement. Unfortunately, the camera I had brought was dead, but you can see pictures from a previous trip here. It was a little different, as the tunnel walk was closed due to earthquake damage, but we managed to find some awesome tunnels to explore related to the massive underground gun magazines. We wandered back to the car and drove the twisting road down through Lyttleton and over to Corsair Bay, where we scoffed some tasty ice cream and then dove into the bay and washed the sweat of the day off our bodies. We returned home just as the wind was picking up and the sky was filling with the tell tale signs of Nor'wester.

[Nor'wester sky - the arch is just barely visible in the bottom left]

Now Nor'westers are definitely Canterbury phenomenon. Occurring when warm moist air from the Tasman Sea is blown up against the Southern Alps, the clouds are forced to drop their moisture (as rain) and rise quickly. As the cross over the mountains and drop down again they pick up a lot of heat from the plains and by the time they reach the East coast of the South Island it is a hot, dry wind that can sometimes reach gale force strength. The Nor'wester is often associated with an amazing sky and what is known as the Nor'wester arch, with dense clouds above the East coast with an absolutely clear sky to the West. Locally known, and widely accepted, to affect people's moods, it also usually means a poor night of sleep. Because it's so amazingly hot.

[Despite the wind, our BBQ was nice - as per usual]

So after, a tasty BBQ with our neighbours and friends, we settled into bed for a restless nights' sleep. Hoping tomorrow would maybe not be quite so hot.

Summer Bounty

2011-01-08T14:50:00.000-08:00

We've now been back in New Zealand for a little over a week and we're slowly settling into the heat and the increased free time we seem to have accumulated. But don't worry, that free time is not going to waste. No Sir. Well, most of it anyhow. We have come back to a country full of ripening fruit and veggies just waiting to be preserved.

The first thing I did when I came back (after unpacking of course) was to call up my Austrian friend, Ursula, and get myself invited over to learn how to make Walnut Liquor using green walnuts. We collected a basket full from her walnut tree out back and she dutifully wrote down the instructions for me to follow at home. This was something totally new for me, so I will have a long wait for the 8 weeks to pass until I can sieve it and give it a try.

On Saturday, Stephen and I got out to our weekly market visit and were absolutely floored by the amount and variety of fruit already ripe. I swear it was at least a couple of weeks later last year. Oh well. We loaded up on cherries (right at the end of their season), apricots (just starting), strawberries, raspberries (from the North Island) and tomatoes (for tasty chutney or relish or both). On the way home we came across several plum trees dripping with fruit so we obliged by lightening the boughs and bringing home our amazing finds.

With the table groaning under the weight of all that fruit we knew we had to get to work. So yesterday afternoon, we cranked out some strawberry and vanilla jam, and some plain old delicious raspberry jam. This morning I made up some plum and star anise jam and this afternoon, we'll make up some tasty cherry jam. The kitchen is sticky with sugar and the house is warm with all that steam filling it up, but our cupboards are filling up with the glimmering jars of jewel toned preserves. Ready to fill our dreary winter with their bright sunshiney tastes.

Walnut Liquor (from Ursula)

2L vodka (38-42%, make sure it's good stuff as the quality of the vodka will directly affect the quality of your finished product)

1 cinnamon stick

35-40 green walnuts (they need to be young enough to that the shell has not started to form inside the meat - you'll know if it has when you cut into them)

1 Tbsp cloves

750g sugar (warmed - place in a cake pan in the oven and heat to ~180 centigrade, stirring evey so often with a spoon to keep it from clumping)

Peel from 2 lemons (keep the pieces large so you can easily fish them out at the end)

Peel from 2 organes (keep the pieces large so you can easily fish them out at the end)

- Chop the walnuts finely

- Place everything in a container (if you use 2L of vodka you should have a 3L container) and cover tightly

- Leave for 8 weeks, shake every so often

And I am not yet sure what you do after 8 weeks, but I will be sure to update you when I learn (in 8 weeks time).

Cheers!

Christmas Reflections

2011-01-04T15:19:00.000-08:00

[Christmas family portrait at Log Cabin - 28oC]

This Christmas, Stephen and I received the wonderful gift of a trip home for the holidays. Both our parents brought us over the Pacific and up the coast to arrive in Whitehorse just two days after Stephens' last day of school. We knew we were in for a busy time, but we were looking forward to seeing friends and family and meeting the newest member of the family, our nephew, Kieran.

We had two weeks to cram in as much visiting and Yukon-ing as possible. But where to begin?! There was skiing to do and people to visit, places to see and meals to be shared, we were drawn out in every direction and hardly had a moment to ourselves. Throughout it all, between the family traditions and our own new beginnings, I found myself contending with a new dilemma. The end of school.

I have been studying now for almost two years and here at the University of Canterbury a PhD is a three year program. So theoretically, this will be my last year and after that I will need to think of a new direction. A place to land. Something worth pursuing. And everyone, understandably so, wanted to know what that was. Unfortunately, I had (and still have) no idea. A major part of answering that question relates to where I want to end up, not just what. Our trip to the Yukon was reaffirming both Stephen and my desires to return there eventually, but there were also certain parts of our home in New Zealand that we didn't want to leave behind.

Most notably, the space and freedom to develop in any direction we want. Without other people's opinions or beliefs or suggestions getting in the way. The beauty and downfall of living in a small town is that everyone knows you and the place you fill, making it hard to branch out from there and do something different. It was a strange feeling to come back to the place we had grown up after two years away and be treated as if nothing had changed. As if our lives on the other side of the world were simply dreams that hadn't really happened. But I suppose if you haven't shared an experience with another person, to them it is just a dream, a thought, an idea. And all you are left with is the memory.

[Driving home in the dark]

So with all this mulling about in my head I was lost a lot in the depths of my head. Thinking about life, the universe, and everything. Then, one day, during a lovely, long and lonely ski at -25oC I realized that I was okay with New Zealand being a memory and a dream, but the Yukon and Canada were very much a place I wanted and needed to be and to live. They were who I was, even while I am here in New Zealand, I am Canadian, a Yukoner, yet while I am in Canada, I am only someone who has visited and lived in New Zealand. And that is okay. I felt much better after this revelation and was able to make my way home along the ski trails in the dark to sit in the sauna and enjoy my new found knowledge. Moments of self-realization are a wonderful gift and should be fully enjoyed whenever they occur. This moment was short lived of course as I moved onto the idea of how on earth I would become employed in my small town with my current schooling.

[Playing Puerto Rico with Dad, Andrew and Stephen]

Life moves on though and we went off for a lovely family dinner afterwards and left these troubling thoughts for another night, another ski. Beyond the shady realm of my deep and labyrinthine thoughts, Christmas was filled with skiing, cold weather, family (and all the joys and frustrations they bring), friends, good food and Christmas tree hunting (for a more detailed account of this, please see dad's blog at http://yukonrambles.blogspot.com/2010/12/perfect-christmas-tree.html). Too soon it was time for us to board our plane and head home (at least the current physical one in which our cat lives).

[Driving home to the summit]

The Great Big Postcard Swap II

2010-12-08T13:36:00.000-08:00

Some of you may have noticed the extra button sitting on the side of the screen for a while now. Two months ago I thought it would be fun to join a little online trade. I sent my mailing address to the organizer and she sent me someone's name and address. The challenge was to make a home made stitched postcard with the theme of home and send it to the someone who's address you were given. I sent my while I was in Antarctica and when I returned home I was thrilled to find a postcard had arrived for me!

This lovely postcard comes all the way from Bree in Grass Valley, California. You learn more about here at http://askmamabear.blogspot.com. I haven't heard from my postcard recipient yet, but hopefully it gets to them.

Home again

2010-12-08T13:11:00.001-08:00

Well, after a wonderful trip to the ice I am home. We had a great time and got lots of interviews. Now the real work begins as we put our heads down and have to listen and re-listen to all those interviews to analyse them. But before that starts, Stephen and I are off home for some Christmas holidays. Stephen finishes work tomorrow (Friday) and on Sunday we catch our flight to Canada. Although neither of us are really looking forward to 14+ hours on a plane, we are both really looking forward to seeing friends and family (especially the newest member).

Heading South

2010-11-14T18:55:00.000-08:00

Well, once again I have been fortunate enough to get myself a trip Southward. In two days time (early Wednesday morning), Stephen will drop me off at Antarctica New Zealand and I will climb aboard a huge plane to emerge into spacious whiteness. This time I am travelling to Antarctica as a research assistant to my supervisor on his research examining the behaviour of scientists in the field. Focusing especially on the choices they make that relate to environment sustenance or degradation.

During my time in Antarctica I will be maintaining a blog for Science Alive, a local Christchurch science centre. This means I will probably not post much on here, but you are more than welcome to follow my adventures while on the ice at http://psychologyinantarctica.blogspot.com/

Look what I found

2010-11-13T14:51:00.000-08:00

Can you tell what it is? They're really hard to find here in New Zealand and it has been ages since we've eaten any. About two years I suppose. Any ideas?

It's a waffle iron. Waffles are not popular here. In fact, when I excitedly took over a taste of our first waffle to our kiwi neighbours, they had never before tasted waffle. So, where did I find such a desirable beauty? Well, it all started with a trip to the beach.

Saturday morning woke up warm and beautiful, so after a quick trip to the market, we headed back over the hills into Sumner. We met up with some friends there with our swim gear, sun screen and lots of ideas. While Stephen and Gavin grabbed some surf boards and headed out to the waves, Nina and I stripped down to our swim suits and splashed and played in the waves. Body surfing, running in place, trying really, really hard not to swallow any salt water (to no avail). And Matt and Emily watched from the rocky beach, taking pictures and enjoying the heat. After a meander down to the ice cream shop to dry off (and get ice cream obviously) we jumped back into the car and drove home.

On the way home we passed by a little shop that had long intrigued us. We had walked past in once or twice before when it was open and peeked into the darkened door way, glimpsing piles of teetering pots, ragged books and long forgotten toys and tools. Today it was once again open and we had the time. So we screeched to a park and jumped out of the car.

Stepping into this place was like walking into a story book. We emerged from the warm heat of the sunny, summer day to a dimly lit, musty aired, cool room so jam packed full of stuff there was hardly room to stand. We squeezed our way in between glass cases filled with mismatched tea settings and tiny glass figurines, a stuffed lamb with a bow-tie placed on top of a pile of cloth-covered books and a decomposing fish mounted on the wall, piles of records and a strange looking metal contraption on a pillar. Wait - could that be. . .? A waffle iron! A beautiful, round silver waffle iron. A short search brought up a cord, a quick test with an outlet and then the bartering began. After a good barter, a quick trip home and a bike trip back, I eventually wound up with a waffle iron. And this morning we enjoyed a delicious breakfast of tasty waffles with maple syrup, yogurt and fruit salad.

[mmmmmm - waffles]

F5000 - riding the world of fossil fuels

2010-11-07T16:38:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, Stephen and I went out to the Ruapehu Race Track west of Christchurch for the Classic Car Rally and the Lady Wigram F5000 Trophy races. We arrived at 12 noon, just in time for the lunch break. We parked the car, strolled around the fenced off race track and ogled the various cars being worked on and tuned up for their last whiz down the track. It was a lot cooler than I thought it would be (though I was still quite aware of being 1 of about 10 women at the whole event). Combine this with the purchase of a new camera lens and I was thrilled to be at such a neat and colourful place.

[Tasty food for race-goers]

[Prepping for the races]

[Checking out the competition]

[There were a lot of amazing classic cars and even more admirers of them]

[Jaguar - a lot faster than it looks]

[Racing minis]

[Crashing minis]

[Watching the cars drive round]

[Watching the F5000's go by, racing for the Lady Wigram Cup]

[The classics]

[F-Libra class]

_______________________________________________

Packing and prep work are taking up my time these days. Just a week and a half to go until we fly down south for the land of ice and snow and wide open spaces. Can't wait to step onto those cross-country skis.

Of Jack O'Lanterns and Caramel Apples

2010-10-30T14:37:00.000-07:00

There's not much celebrating of All Hallow's Eve here in New Zealand. No tricker or treaters, only one costume big party in town tonight and at the nearby Warehouse store, the meager rack of cheap costumes is squeezed almost forgotten between the mounds of cat food on the one side and the glistening Christmas plethora on the other. We did however find two lovely little pumpkins at the Lyttleton Market to carve and some scrumptious, perfectly sized apples for dipping. And last night, despite the absence of costumes, we had a lovely spring BBQ with all the neighbours who admired the little jack o'lanterns and devoured the candy apples.

Caramel Apples

For you to enjoy on your next little Halloween (or other sugar-high holiday) party. Adapted from Mahalo.com (http://www.mahalo.com/how-to-make-delicious-caramel-apples).

Equipment:

Popsicle stickes or skewers broken in half

Pot for making caramel

Larger pot for Bain Marie

Smaller bowls for other ingredients

Tray lined with parchment paper for cooling

Candy thermometer (can be done without one, but it makes life easier)

Glass of water with a brush in it

Glass of cold water beside stove

Ingredients:

6-10 Apples (we used Granny Smith for their tartness to balance the sweetness of the caramel)

1 1/2 cups Brown sugar

6 Tbsp. Milk or cream

1 1/2 Tbsp. Butter

1/2 tsp. Vanilla

Other coating ingredients (crushed nuts, coconut, smarties, sour-o's, chocolate chips, sprinkles, gummi bears, life savers, trail mix, granola, whatever tickles your fancy)

Melted chocolate, if desired

Method:

First prep your apples.

If they are store-bought, they generally have a waxy coating on them. This can be removed by dipping them in boiling water and scrubbing the wax off.

Next, stick a popsicle stick or skewer in them and line them up in an easily accessible manner (the dipping part goes fast).

Now get your rolling ingredients ready by pouring them into a flat bowl that your apples can be rolled around in.

Place your brown sugar, butter and milk in a pot over medium-high heat and bring to a boil. Allow mixture to bubble away until it reaches 236 degrees Farenheiht (or soft ball candy stage, where when dropped in a cup of cold water, it forms a ball but when brought out of the water the ball flattens). If crystals start to form on the inside of the pot, brush some water around the insides to stop this happening.

While your sugar is bubbling, start another pot of water boiling to be your Bain Marie. The bain marie will help to keep you caramel from cooling down too quickly while you work on coating your caramel apples.

Once your caramel has reached the right temperature/stage, quickly place it in the Bain Marie and start dipping. Take an apple by the stick and roll it around in the caramel, tipping the pot may help here. Then roll your apple in the desired coating material and place on your tray to let it set. If your caramel cools down too much and becomes too thick to work with, put it back on the heat and add a splash of cream or milk and stir until it comes back to a workable state.

If you want to coat your apples in chocolate after the caramel, you must first allow the caramel to set. Melt your chocolate (10-30 seconds at a time in the microwave at medium stirring in between until melty) and dip your set apples when ready. Alternatively, you could drizzle the chocolate over the apple in an appealing (or unappealing) manner. If you want your chocolate to harden you must temper it. Instructions can be found on this website: http://candy.about.com/od/candybasics/ht/temperchoc.htm Although they say to use a double boiler, it can be done in the microwave if you are careful and check the temperature every time you have it out (every 30 seconds or so) - the important part is heating it up to the necessary temperature, reducing it again and finally, heating it back up.

Once all your apples are dipped and decorated they are ready to enjoy. Using a knife to cut off slices makes it easier to eat, but where's the fun in that?

Mmmmm - parathas

2010-10-19T11:19:00.000-07:00

Food is something both Stephen and I love. Cooking, eating and, most especially, trying new things. This past week, with the arriving spring, we decided to do some tasty and spicy Indian food. But having grown up with a pretty restricted Indian food repertoire (meat and veg in some type of curry sauce) I wanted to try something new and exciting - since there is much more to Indian food than curry, naan and rice biryani (the limits of my Indian food repertoire). I know this because every time I go to an Indian restaurant the menus are huge! So I picked one of my favorite Indian foods and decided to give it a try. Entre the paratha!

Parathas are an unleavened Indian flat bread. They consist of a simple dough (flour, water and salt) folded in layers with ghee (clarified butter) or oil spread between the layers to keep them apart. They are often stuffed with tasty foods like mint, or potatoes or spinach. When they come to your table and you pull them apart, they have the most wonderful characteristic of being hundreds of tiny sheets of tasty bread already slathered in butter. And like naan, they are perfect for mopping up curry. Which takes me to another reason I wanted to try this new food. When I was in Singapore visiting family, I had an egg paratha for breakfast one morning. What got me was that the whole meal constituted one big, tasty paratha stuffed with an egg and a small bowl of very soupy curry sauce. And at the end of it I was full. This was different from any North American (or Kiwi) Indian food I had ever experienced, so I wanted to try it myself at home.

Which brings me to our tasty meal. Aloo parathas (potato parathas) served with lamb curry, lime pickle, mango chutney and yogurt. The recipe for the parathas was taken from my favorite source for Indian cookery - Manjula's kitchen (http://www.manjulaskitchen.com/). She has some great recipes with easy to follow videos. The lamb curry, essentially a side dish tonight, was found at the Asian Food Warehouse here in Christchurch and was much soupier than anything I'd made before, making it much more similar to the one I'd had in Singapore. But now, to the recipe.

Aloo Parathas (Potato parathas) - from Manjula's Kitchen

Dough

1 cup whole wheat flour

1/2 cup water

1 pinch of salf

Filling

1 1/2 cups of mashed potatoes (about 5 small or 3 large)

2 Tablespoons cilantro/coriander

1 fresh chili pepper, minced

1 teaspoon cumin seeds (or to taste)

1/2 teaspoon salt (or to taste)

1.Start by boiling the potatoes until just soft and ready for mashing. Drain, set aside and let cool to room temperature before mashing them.

2. Mix flour, water and salt until dough forms.

3. Dump out on counter and knead with oiled hands until soft (about 2 minutes).

4. Mash your now room temperature potatoes. Add all other filling ingredients and mix together.

5. Dump out onto counter and knead filling until everything is well mixed.

6. Break both the filling and the dough into 6 equal sized balls and set aside.

7. Take one dough ball and roll it out on a floured surface to the size to your palm.

8. Place a ball of filling into the middle of the disc and close the dough around the filling like you would a dumpling. Press it lightly to make a hockey puck shaped disc and set aside.

9. Repeat steps 7 and 8 for remaining 5 sets of dough and filling balls.

10. Place a cast iron pan on the stove and heat up at med-high.

11. Now take your first hockey puck dumpling, place it on a floured surface and roll out to the size of a dinner plate or whatever will fit in your pan.

12. Place your paratha into hot, dry pan and cook for about 30 seconds. Check to see if there are tiny brown spots forming on your cooking side and flip.

13. Smear the cooked side with about 1 teaspoon of oil and flip (when second side has started to brown).

14. Flip one more time to crisp up the second side and remove from pan.

15. Repeat steps 11 through 14 with the remaining hockey puck-dumplings-come-parathas.

Enjoy with a tasty curry of your choosing and any mix of pickles, chutneys and yogurt you prefer. See Manjula's recipe here (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZHqZlKrfbGg) for video instruction.

Golden Bay

2010-10-12T14:05:00.002-07:00

After our lovely tramp in the rain and delightful soak at Maruia Springs, we hopped into our car and drove up the island to Golden Bay. One of the teachers Stephen teaches with has a house up there and had invited us to drop by and visit. We drove past flooding rivers and green, green pastures, up mountain roads and through little towns with names like Paenga and Pokororo. We drove and we drove and finally we had one more pass to go. This one was in fact a surprise. We certainly hadn't expected such a steep and winding and seemingly endless (the thick fog didn't help) mountain pass just before our final destination, but we persevered and eventually popped out on top of the hill, blue skies above us, thick soupy fog behind us and a clear view to our final destination.

We arrived a wee bit late for dinner, but our lovely hostess had waited and after a short walk on the beach, we tucked into a true British curry at 9pm. Then it was quickly off to bed and dreaming of sunshine and sand.

And that is exactly what we got the next day. Pancakes for breakfast, then off down to the beach to collect mussels for our dinner. Wainui Beach is one of the boring beaches (or so we were told), but just off-shore was a mussel farm and on one side of the beach there was a collection of boulders that provided home to the more wild mussels. So we wandered on down, picking up seashells and sand dollars along the way.

Eventually we found ourselves in amongst the rocks. The mussels however were about the size of a quarter/Kiwi dollar/British pound - they were very small. Certainly too small to eat. But we kept looking and eventually found some edible looking ones tucked deep into the crevasses of the boulders. So we picked a few of them and wandered on back to the car.

On the way back to Pohara, where our hostesses house was, we were dropped off at another beach (Tata Beach) so that we could enjoy the lovely day by walking home along the coast.

Tata Beach is another beautiful example of the large and plentiful beach found in Golden Bay. We threw the disc around - until I tossed it out into the ocean and Stephen had to go up to his waist to get it back. Eventually, we made it to the end of the sand and the start of the headland that would bring us around to the next beach. This is where our awesome rock-climbing/scrambling skills came into play.

Up - over - around - under - ooooo, cool bug - up again - hmmmm, over or under . . . under - and finally, the last wade through the sea to the beach - oh, that not the beach, there's still a lagoon in the way. . . with very sucky mud.

But finally, we made it (another one of Stephens teacher friends pointed a safe way across the mucky-bottomed lagoon where he and his daughter were fixing their boat). We wandered down Ligar Beach and up towards the road (the next head land looked somewhat more daunting than the last).

We walked back along the road, with a quick stop in at a little coffee and ice cream boat to fuel up and finally made it home. It was suggested we all head out to the nearby fish farm and catch ourselves some salmon to go with our mussels for dinner. It is more than somewhat difficult to say no to a good idea, so we hopped in the car and drove down to Anatoki Salmon.

Anatoki Salmon Farm grows Chinook Salmon for distribution to restaurants all over New Zealand. It also invites people to come by, borrow a fishing rod and net and catch their own fish. Once caught, you can take your fish to their fishmonger, who will clean them for you and if you like, hot smoke them with the flavouring of your choice. We opted for a cilantro-garlic rub for one hot smoked salmon and the other to be simply cleaned for BBQing later. Then it was back in the car and home to rustle up some dinner.

Dinner was delicious - if a little surprising. After a good clean and de-bearding, we steamed our lovely mussels in some white wine with chillis and ginger, then topped them with some beach picked fennel. Stephen, sliced and boiled some potatoes to grill up on the BBQ. And all this was served along side our yummy hot smoke salmon caught just 30 minutes prior and the only two lemons on our hostesses lemon tree. It's always a joy to be able to make up a dinner from the land around you and we thoroughly enjoyed this one - despite the unanticipated extras found in some of the mussels.

Who knew that tiny shore crabs and mussels had a symbiotic relationship, wherein the mussel provides shelter and the crab eats any unwanted rubbish that comes inside.

Tramping in the Rain

2010-10-04T13:15:00.000-07:00

Last week marked the start of Stephens' two week spring break. So we figured we should take advantage of the time and take off somewhere, see some of this great country in which we've lived for almost 2 years.

Our first destination was a little tramp just past Lewis Pass (where the St. James Walkway is that we did last year) to a little hut on the shores of Lake Daniels. This was perhaps not the best time for it as the big storm was still hammering that side of New Zealand, but now was when we had time. So we packed our rain gear and lots of chocolate.

Having left home at about 1pm we didn't arrive at the parking lot until about 4pm. But with a short 2 hour walk ahead of us and our recently saved daylight hours, we weren't too worried. We threw on our rain jackets, pulled on our packs and squelched down the track. It wasn't raining really badly, just sort of misting (which we all know is actually worse) so we were soon soaked. Fortunately, the temperature was warm and the trail was easy to follow. We heard loads of birds and even had a close encounter with the South Island Robin - a friendly little bird I hadn't yet had the chance to see. He seemed very intent on inspecting us before letting us pass.

[On the trail to Lake Daniels]

[http://resources.edb.gov.hk/biology/english/teaching_source/bird.html]

After passing our inspection, we happily rambled down the trail towards our destination. This however did not last too long, as we soon encountered some rather deep and rushing water - coming down the trail. As far as we could see. In fact, the whole last third of the trail was submerged below about a foot of water. There were the random boardwalks, appearing to float in the midst of the flooded forest, but these were more ridiculous than they were helpful. Despite our feet having been the only dry part of us before, we soon succumbed to the fact that we were to arrive completely waterlogged. And what a relief it was to arrive when we did. A lovely dry hut to strip down in and warm up . . . . or not. At least not with four noisy teenagers already there. I had a little giggle at poor Stephen's expense, thinking how we were out in the Southern Alps bush to escape the raging hormones, constant showing off and parading of teen angst and here it was right in front of us. Ah, the irony. But they had a fire going and were really very nice kids, so we just skipped the stripping down and went straight to warming up.

[Momentary dry ground]

[The view from the hut, looking across Lake Daniels]

The evening went relatively quickly, seeing as we had arrived at about 6:30pm and the sky was already dark with clouds. Some dinner and a couple games of cards and it was off to bed, where it was off to the land of dreams in a breath.

The next morning, we lay in bed listening to the kids getting all packed up and heading off back to meet their ride. Stephen brought me jumbalaya eggs (read leftovers mixed with eggs to make it breakfasty) in bed and I slowly emerged to get myself ready too. Rain pattered down on and off as we packed and had stopped as we emerged from the hut ready to start walking. Unfortuanately, with all the rain last night our trail swamp had deepened and parts of the trail came well up to my calf, so we were not to escape without getting wet. On the other hand, we did find ourselves lucky enough to see a couple of Kakariki, or yellow-crowned parakeets. We watched them pull at bark for their breakfast before moving along back to our car.

[http://www.nzbirds.com/birds/kakarikiyellow.html]

[The 90-degree tree - photo opportunity]

As we arrived at the parking lot, we were met in force by some early sandflies. Quickly stretching and unpacking we clambered into the car and drove 5 minutes up the road to Maruia Springs, a japanese bath that uses a natural hot spring (http://maruiasprings.co.nz/pools.php).

Breakfast Tostada

2010-09-27T10:54:00.000-07:00

With the arrival of Spring we have developed a renewed interest in all sorts of new foods. Fresh new local veges are making their ways into the market bag and strange and interesting new products are finding their way to our grocery store shelves. So we've been able to play with all sorts of great things.

Last week after a delicious meal of enchiladas the night before, I was left with some uneaten corn tortillas and some salsa and beans. This could only mean one thing, Mexican-inspired breakfast . . . . or beans and salsa in a tortilla. But where was the excitement in that, so I fried an egg, cut up some avocado and sprinkled on some cilantro. Delicious. Especially with a little extra kick from some special sauce I picked up in Antarctica. I give you - the breakfast tostada (like a burrito, only the tortilla lies flat a the bottom instead of being rolled up).

Erin's Breakfast Tostada

1 tortilla per person (corn are extra yummy if available)

1 egg per person

some delicious Mexican beans (I had canned black beans in a spicy sauce, but homemade would be better)

homemade salsa (recipe at bottom)

cheddar cheese (or queso fresco if you have it) - grated

1/4 avocado per person - sliced

1 tbsp. cilantro - chopped

Hot sauce - as much as you want

Heat up your tortilla as directed. If it is a corn tortilla this usually means frying it in a little bit of oil in a hot pan for about 30 seconds on each side until the middle puffs up a bit. Take it out of the pan and place in some paper towel to absorb the excess oil. Turn down the heat on the pan to medium and crack your egg into it. Splash some hot sauce into it if you so desire and cook it up your favorite way - sunny side up, easy over, crunchy.

Once all your ingredients are prepped you can begin constructing your tostadas. This can really be in any order you like, in fact you could just serve the individual ingredients as is and each person could construct their own tostada at the table. My preference is for the cheese to be in between the egg and the tortilla to get all gooey and melty from the heat. Then I pour on a good 1/4 cup of beans, a good spoonful of salsa and top it off with some cilantro. Sprinkle on some hot sauce and serve with the avocado on the side. But like I said, you could pile it any way you like.

Simple Homemade Salsa

2-3 tomatoes, the fresher the better

1/2 an onion (white, yellow, red, whatever)

chillies (to your taste)

1 lemon or lime

1 tbsp. cilantro, chopped

Slice your tomatoes across the core and take out the juicy seedy bits. Chop up your tomatoes and throw them in a bowl. Chop up your onion a little smaller than your tomato pieces. Then slice your chillies down the middle to expose the seeds. You can either leave the seeds and pith in or take them out, since this is where most of the heat is found in chillies its up to how spicy you want your salsa to be. I usually take out the seeds and throw in two chillies, this makes a pretty mild-medium salsa depending on the chillies I'm using. Chop these up pretty fine and toss them into the bowl. Squeeze in the juice of the lemon or lime, toss in the cilantro and mix it all up. The longer you let this sit, the more the flavours will have a chance to meld. I try to make this at least a few hours ahead of the meal, sometimes even a day.

Broken River Ski Club

2010-09-22T17:14:00.000-07:00

Over the past week there has been a storm "the size of Australia" off the West Coast of New Zealand. It dumped enough heavy snow down in Invercargill to collapse the roof of the local sporting complex, it blew hard enough in Wellington to ground airplanes scheduled to leave from the airport and it dumped a whole heap of snow in the mountains. Just when we thought the end of the ski season had arrived.

On Sunday morning, we woke up early and decided we just had to partake in this fresh dump. And we knew the perfect field at which to enjoy it at its fullest - Broken River. Located in the Craigieburn Mountains with a parking lot for about 30 vehicles, Broken River was just hopping that day. We were lucky to arrive early enough to grab one of the last parking spots in a snow bank (despite making it to the edge of Christchurch and having to go back for my wallet and student ID - gotta get that discount). After slipping and sliding into a spot, we threw on our gear and headed for the "Inclinator".

[The jam-packed parking lot - our car is the little silver station wagon in the bottom right corner]

The inclinator is a little cable car used to access the chalets way up the hill towards the tree line. After the 10 minute rumble up the steep rails, you get out onto wooden decking surrounding the ticket house. Here you buy your tickets, grab a nutcracker and head up the stairs. Lots and lots of stairs. There are two lodges tacked to the side of the beech forested hills, with decks and stairs connecting them together.

Finally you emerge from the trees and climb one last set of stairs up the ridge to just below the first lift. Broken River has only nutcrackers. Now if you ever go skiing in New Zealand, nutcrackers are an essential part of the kiwi ski experience. They are at most club fields and are, well, a challenge to learn. You have a harness with a rope coming from the front. At the end of the rope is a hunk of metal in the shape of, you guessed it, a nutcracker. So you stand beside the rope as it's towed up the hill grab onto it with your inside hand, then use your outside hand to quickly flick the nutcracker over the rope and hold onto the handle. This allows the rope to travel through the various pulleys along the tow without crushing your fingers. A good thing really, it's just a challenge to get the nutcracker over the rope before the first pulley eats your hand.

Deep, heavy "powder" covered the mountain. This stuff is unlike any powder I have previously encountered. I'm used to the light, fluffy stuff that can easily be plowed through, not this heavy, wet stuff that constantly wanted to eat my skis. It was soft though, which was a good thing for all the falls we suffered. And the energy required to turn was phenomenal. I felt out of shape after just 2 turns and had to take a break. But the day was beautiful and the snow was plentiful, so there was not much to complain about. Despite the unusual number of falls.

[Resting at the top of the ridge. Behind me is the Cass valley where we tramped and stayed at Hamilton Hut]

After a glorious day of skiing, falling and shaking snow out of our jackets, we sat down at the chalet and enjoyed a beer (well, I had a beer, Stephen had an L&P, being the responsible driver that he is). The sun shone down happily on us and we quietly nursed our bruises and bangs with smiles on our faces. Eventually, we got ourselves together and made our way back down the multitude of stairs and into the car. We stopped at the swimming pool on the way home for a well-deserved soak and tried not to think about having to go back to work the next morning.

And now for something completely different. . . .

2010-09-08T18:59:00.000-07:00

SPRING!

The weather is turning. The birds are more and more raucous. And the flowers are popping up everywhere.

Christchurch, New Zealand Earthquake

2010-09-04T07:11:00.001-07:00

[Stephen picking up the washing from the rubble]

[And the chimney that is still up there, threatening to come down in any of the aftershocks or perhaps the gale force winds tomorrow]

[All our clean water burst from the water main in front of the house]

[Standing knee deep in one of the cracks that appeared during the earthquake]

[The worst damage inside our apartment - cracked plaster and dust everywhere]

[The water was quickly boring its way under the road towards the river - a very fast underground torrent racing its way through the new cracks]

[The road outside our building was really bad - it's now dead quite out there with no traffic, making it somewhat otherworldly when you step outside onto the street]

[Some houses fared worse than others]

[Just before our BBQ dinner the firemen came and took some of the worst rubble off the roof. We're still waiting for a crane crew to come and take down the other two chimneys]

It's a funny feeling being in a disaster and I have to say the worst part of it is not during the actual event itself (though that was pretty horrible). No, its the hours and days (and presumably weeks) afterwards when everyone has to live with limited services; no water or sewage and gather up the pieces of their broken homes and try to put them back together. Tension runs high and people are apt to snap at the smallest thing. Yesterday, after the earthquake people were open and friendly and willing to talk, now they seem to be more on edge and snappy and frustrated. It's hard when everyone deals with this in their own way.

Stephen and I are fine. Although we have no water or sewage, we have been left with many liters of fresh water from friends and our landlords and there are porta-potties not too far away. The cat is finally out from under the stairs and we are about to head off to the grocery store to see what is left for our dinner tonight and possibly the next few. Lots of knitting and sewing time I suppose.

Hiking at Hanmer

2010-09-01T03:01:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, after a good sleep in and big bowl of oatmeal, we headed into town for a round of mini golf before parting company and heading up into the hills. We tool the same road we had the day before for our ski trip, but this time stopped at the summit of Jack's Pass to hike up the mountain to the West of the road (I believe it is Mount Bain, from my extensive research while playing mini golf). We gobbled down a quick lunch before leaving the car and headed down the muddy trail.

Despite not being marked on any map we had seen the trail continued along the saddle we were parked in and up the ridge towards our intended destination. With no real rush or need to get anywhere in particular we wandered along the track as it wound its way between protruding greywacke spires, the newly emerging buds on the manuka, the thorny tumatakuru, and the wispy pygmy pine.

[miniature moss garden tucked safely beneath the shrubs]

[the view back to the car]

[Taramea or Wild Spaniard which is both stiffer and sharper than it looks]

[a tiny skull we found along the trail, we decided it was most likely a possum]

[walking along the ridge with the snow]

[the view from the top, well actually, it's just us]

[heading for home]

More Skiing (finally)

2010-08-31T14:28:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, Stephen and I, along with some friends of ours, headed up to Hanmer Springs, a natural hotsprings at the northern end of the Canterbury plains. Hanmer Springs is quite a little tourist town, with a well developed hot pools system and loads of accommodation all at quite competitive prices. So we booked ourselves a house and made a weekend of it. With a ski field and lots of trails nearby, this was not too difficult an ask.

On Saturday, we woke up and ate a delicious breakfast of banana-coconut surprise pancakes with real maple syrup and lots of bacon (and black pudding for me). We pulled on our long johns and headed up to the ski field, dropping our friends off on the way for a hike. Little did we know the drive up to the ski field would be just as much of an adventure as actually skiing there.

The road was quite beautiful, winding its way up braided river valleys along gravelly paths, over tiny bridges and right smack, through the middle of farms.

After the final set of switch backs up the face of a cliff we pulled into a tiny parking lot with 7 other cars and pulled on our ski boots in the muddy puddles surrounding the car. It dawned on me there why customs asks about mud on your ski boots when you entre the country. I've never had the experience of walking in mud with my ski boots, but it seems relatively common here.

The snow did start somewhere though, at the far end of the lodge, just past the ski rack some lovely soft, heavy wet snow huddled on the ground, a metre from the lodge. . . just in case. Of what I'm not sure, but it wouldn't touch the place.

Once we had our lift tickets and nutcrackers we headed on up to the lifts. The short one was your average kiwi nutcracker - a must-do experience for a true kiwi-skiing adventure. Essentially, you have to grab onto a moving cable pulled between two pulleys, one at the top of the hill and one at the bottom. Once you are moving with the cable, you want to clinch it in your metal nutcracker (looks kind of like the skeleton of a traditional nutcracker used on nuts) and hold on tight until you reach the top. Word of advice: don't try clinching your nutcracker on from a standstill, this only ever ends in a face plant and being dragged face first up the hill by your arm and the nutcracker tied to your waist.

As you can see the ski field is suffering from the coming spring, but really this only made it better. Without trees there's nothing to try to avoid, but with the exposed grasses there was plenty to try and avoid. One would abruptly stop if one ski hit the grass as it has a somewhat lower slipperyness index than snow.

All in all, it was a glorious day of skiing. The entire morning was sunny with hardly any wind to speak of. We even watched the Farmer's Cup as they raced between flags to the bottom. Amuri Ski Club was first established by local farmers to give them some opportunity for snow sports, today just happened to be the annual day for them to all gather together with their families and throw themselves down the hill as fast as they could.

Around 3pm, the weather changed. Quickly. Very quickly. Like in 5 minutes it went from sunny skies to white out conditions. We took one last, wet ride to the top and stumbled our way down with no ability to see where the surface of the snow changed (ie. dropped away from under you). It was great fun.

We soon decided that it was time to head down, before we got socked in too badly and had to spend the night up in the very crowded lodge. What was snow on the field was rain down in the parking lot, so we quickly changed our shoes, got soaked and clambered into the car. We crept our way slowly back down the precarious cliff side road and watched as the big, fat rain drops turned the road to mush.

Once at the bottom, the skies had cleared and we headed back to town to take a relaxing dip in the hot pools.

Bring Back Black

2010-08-08T17:02:00.000-07:00

For Stephen's birthday Jan put me in charge of getting us to an All Blacks game whenever they managed to make their way to Christchurch. Last Saturday night, the men in black were in town and they were playing the Aussies in the TriNations Cup series (kind of like the Stanley Cup for Rugby Union - but with only three teams; South African Springboks, Australian Wallabies and New Zealand All Blacks).

After a quick dinner of pizza (at home) and beer (at the local pub) Stephen, myself and our neighbour biked on down to the stadium. The organizers were trialling their road closures for the Rugby World Cup being hosted here next year, so all the roads within 2-3 blocks of the stadium were blocked off for cars and the streets were absolutely packed with people making their way on foot. We slowly wound our way through them and parked our bikes in front of the stadium gates. The crowd seemed to increase in volume as you approached the stadium, but we pushed our way into it and eventually streamed up the stairs and into the newly completed concrete stands.

Our seats were one step above the cheapest. This meant we were neither sitting right at midfield under cover, but nor were we crammed into the stands at either end of the field incapable of seeing what exactly was happening as the teams ran back and forth across the field. In fact we were pretty well placed in the first half to witness a couple of trys by the All Blacks into the Wallabies end.

It was fun to look around at all the people around us. Across the stadium on the opposite stand there was a little island of yellow (Wallabie colours) drifting in a sea of black and silver. On our side there were little isolated dots of yellow, but mostly it was black . . . . and loud. There was a group a few seats down from us draped in the New Zealand flag with faces painted in black and white screaming as if their lives depended on it. In front of us were a group of older guys full of sarcasm and trash talking for the two Aussies sitting next to them (who seemed to hold their own well enough). Towards the end of the second half, both groups were folding paper airplanes and seeing who could get theirs onto the field of play (the second half of the game was not all that exciting). And behind us was a man and his 6 year-old son, who could have been a rugby commentator. In fact, he was for me.

Despite a lousy forecast the rain was light and there was no wind, so our wool blanket and blue tarp stayed folded and tucked into our bag. Unlike our previous rugby experience when we were drenched and frozen to our seats while watching the New Zealand Warriors (Rugby League) pound some Australian team into the ground. This evening in comparison was pleasant and enjoyable. The game itself was somewhat unexciting though and the All Blacks were unable to achieve the five trys they needed to win the TriNations Cup that night. They're still well in the lead, but we'll just have to wait and see how Australia plays against South Africa in the following weeks.

Thank you Stephen

2010-07-25T18:21:00.000-07:00

I've enjoyed the first two years and can't wait to see what the future brings us.

Hmmmm. . . .

2010-07-21T16:08:00.001-07:00

Take a second look and what do you see?