Food Lovin' and Hot Spring Soakin'

This blog is making me feel guilty. In my days on the ocean in fall 2010 I kept a journal so that my best friend, Jen, would know how I spent my first semester away from home. I tried to write every day because I promised Jen that I would (she put stickies into a shoe box, taking note of all her escapades for me). When I skipped a day, I felt extremely guilty, which was excellent motivation to keep up in the journal. This blog is the same, but I feel a little more license in letting it go since I am at college, instead of on a boat in the middle of the sea, and you all know what that’s like. But now I’ve taken advantage of my grace period and it’s run over into the “come on Kiri, now you’re just being lazy” category. So I apologize for being lazy and watching Friday Night Lights instead of sharing my adventures.

The first adventure I want, no, need to tell you about is the farmers’ market I went to on Saturday during the last weekend of February. It was one of those gorgeous mornings where the sun fills you up and the breeze kisses your shoulders making the two km walk through small suburb streets was very pleasant. When I reached the gate of Riccarton Bush, the park where the market is set up, I stopped, causing a mini traffic jam of strollers and bikes because in front of me was the largest farmers’ market I’ve ever seen. For some scale, it is about five times as large as the Middlebury Farmers Market, and about four times larger than the Camden Farmers Market.

 This is just one small section of the market, but the tips of the tents show how far it stretches in this bit.

There were olives, berries, scones with whipped cream and strawberries, all the usual vegetables, flowers, the best hot smoked salmon I’ve ever had, beef, cheese, and about five stands dedicated exclusively to sausages. All I wanted was to have my food loving family – my father especially, but also the deep admirers of farmers markets such as my cousin Charlotte and my aunt Deb – with me to take in the glorious scene. It was almost too hard to take because I wanted to buys EVERYTHING, but in my limited, tiny kitchen, I didn’t really have anywhere to store or cook the food the way it deserved. Still, I am my father’s daughter and so have an inability to buy just enough for one when faces with so much amazing choice.

 Here is everything I bought.

I know I said this before, but I’m saying it again, that Stewart Island (an island off the southern tip of the South Island) smoked salmon was the best hot smoked salmon I’ve ever had. It was juicy and pink on the inside, with just the right amount of cure so it was seasoned but not incredibly salty. The package that says Karikaas Leyden is a cheese made in NZ that was gruyere-like with coriander seeds speckled throughout the wedge. I think it would have been great grated over eggs, but it was tasty plain as well. In the brown paper bag was a pesto, parmesan, sweet chili bread knot (New Zealanders’s favorite sauce is the sweet chili sauce, it’s everywhere). That incredible toasty half moon was a lamb meatball and curry potato filled pita, cooked at the Mediterranean food cart. That was lunch number one.

My pita

Those beautiful red strawberries were as delicious as they looked (but not quite as sweet as those candy beauties we get in Maine). Finally, the Munchy Seeds in the container with the purple and white top were tamari roasted sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, pine nuts, and cashews, and this was my only disappointment of the day. Other than that, everything was perfect as I stretched out on the grass by the river, reading The Penguin History of New Zealand, which is a great read (not a history about penguins in NZ). Music drifted over to my patch of grass that ranged from a mandolin player, to two brothers playing guitar and singing who must have only been about 8 and 10, to some of the best guitar playing I’ve ever heard. It was an excellent way to spend a lazy Saturday.

 I liked this bright yellow tree.

Ok now I need to tell to everyone about one last food product then I’ll leave it alone for the rest of the blog post, I promise. This is a very important, unhealthy, opposite of farmers market wholesome product that we’ve discovered down here called Tim Tams. Essentially, it is two chocolate cookies sandwiching chocolate cream and enrobed in chocolate. Woweeee! Let me just let that settle in for a second. You can only get said Tim Tams (also called Timmy Tammies, Shim Shams, Tams) (this has been a big parenthesis night for me) (sorry about that)) (I can’t stop!)))) in Australia and New Zealand, and for those of you coming to visit, I will force many of these in your direction. I wonder if it’s one of those times where I think it’s really good here where I’m lacking in good dessert, but under normal circumstances they wouldn’t actually be that amazing. But they taste like those Lindt truffle balls in cookie form so maybe they actually are just that good. Now, on Serious Eats, another one of my favorite food blogs, I read a recent post about something called Slamming. This is where you bite off opposing corners of the rectangular cookie and stick one corner in hot chocolate or coffee and suck through the other side allowing the drink to permeate the cookie. The end result is a lava cake explosion in your mouth and all over your face. There is no neat way to Slam a Tim Tam.

Slamming

 The Slammed Tim Tam

This is probably the most delicious mass of chocolate cookie mush I've ever had. I'll sneak it into the States so we can all Slam together. What an exciting food adventure!

This past Friday March 1 (Happy Birthday Daddy-O!), I went to the Botanic Garden in the central city with friends to see an outdoor production of The Wind in the Willows. The audience was sitting on one side of the Avon River, which runs all the way through Christchurch, and the stage was on the opposite bank. The actors used the stage, the river, and the dirt road behind us in the production.

Mole and Rat in a rowboat – “Believe me, my young friend, there is NOTHING--absolute nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”

Toad up to his shenanigans.

Since The Wind in the Willows is not a novel I know very well, I was a bit lost during the play, but it was certainly creative, and the crowd was in a jolly mood, most having brought picnics packed with sweets and wine or beer. Little kids were running around and shrieking as the actors tromped around in the river, splashing them if they got too close. It was a joyful night in the park.

Here is a duck that wandered over to where I was sitting on the bank.

Duck feathers are beautiful if you get close enough.

Then on Saturday, Dan, Sarina, Lauren, and I headed off to Hanmer Springs, which is a small town with hot springs. We relaxed in the hot pools of different temperatures and sulfur levels for hours, slowly becoming blobs of uselessness, barely with the strength to hold up our heads. At that point, we left before the ability to move our bodies completely disappeared.

Here is the outside of our hostel with the mountains in the background. Hanmer Springs is also a ski town in the winter.

We found dinner at a tapas restaurant. YUMMY.

Then played Oh Hell, a fantastic card game that anyone who has hung around with the Endicotts long enough has been forced to play. Agression and foul language ensued, with good times had by all.

We played it here, in our very comfy hostel.

Lauren liked the message chair a little too much. This chair was set up in a corner by the stairs. You can't tell by the picture because of the flash, but the area was this dark nook that definitely seemed to be made for some alone time with the massage chair.

The upstairs living room was ridiculously cozy, especially the next morning when it was raining.

I loved the large dining table. Here we are playing Oh Hell again on Sunday.

As we made our way through the countryside back to Christchurch, I tried to take some pictures of sheep, which are the first ones I’ve seen in New Zealand. I had started to think that the whole “more sheep than people” fact was just a myth. It turns out, there are just no sheep in the city. Weird.

Very blurry specks that are sheep. 

 Here are some spiky hills with small tufts of bush sticking out here and there.

 And a rushing river.

Now I’m back in Christchurch and I already miss the countryside. I’m off to the Banks Peninsula to do a two day walk by myself this weekend (Yikes!!). Here is a taste of what I’ll be in for. 

Aerial view of the Banks Peninsula

It looks like it’s going to be a rainy weekend unfortunately, but hey, if it’s a little miserable, it’s character building.