Melting Moments of Exquisite Satisfaction

There are many reasons why  a visit to the Blue Duck Cafe, on that unfortgettable, sweeping right hand bend at Motukarara on Banks Peninsula, will not disappoint.

For me, one of the more important ones is the reputation of the chef and owner, Glen Swift, formerly Head Chef at Tiffany’s in Christchurch. With what seems like consummate ease he skilfully  delivers rewarding experiences on his plates, testimony to his gastronomic proficiency; there is an evident flair well removed from everyday perceptions of country life yet his use of local produce and tantalising pairings elevate a dinner at his restaurant to an exciting, almost euphoric level.

I was  impressed with everything I ate. The Cream of Parsnip soup with saffron crème fraiche arrived at my table, beckoning with its subtle garden vegetable mainstay pumped up with the playful sharpness of the crème fraiche and the luxury of the saffron.

My blood was coursing expectantly and my heart racing with excitement as a beefy rib eye waltzed in, dancing gaily with watercress, walnut & Blue Cheese salad, pepper sauce and the utter  ubiquitousness of fat chips. Like a siren of the big screen from the 1930s this superlative number seduced its target, our lips met and the melting moments of exquisite satisfaction, so fleeting, so carnal, so absolutely worthwhile, gave angelic wings to dreams of joyful, poetic pleasures.

The blue cheese backpacked the walnuts in a devilshly divine dalliance that competed vigorously for my attention. I truly loved the match which seemed so perfect in every way. Texture and taste, a fine example of the beauty of food!

Three Kiwi cheeses performed the finale, rendering the $50 three course menu price ridiculously good value for money and  reasonable almost beyond belief. A generous wedge of Kikorangi Blue, a Whitestone Aged Waxed Cheddar and a local Brie all played a well conducted symphony before my very eyes. A superb quince jelly and walnut bread made up the rest of the quintet of complementary delicacies. All that was left was for me to finish my bottle of Pete’s Natural Currant Crush – tasty sparkling, organic blackcurrant juice, served chilled.

The restaurant is BYO only so if you are wanting to enjoy a wine then make sure you plan ahead as there are limited venues within easy driving distance.

I dined on a Saturday night and waitress Alana was a refreshing, naturally talented person who did an excellent job of looking after the four tables of guests on the night. This is a restaurant where you may be moved to leave a generous gratuity for Glen and Alana as they work well as a team and deliver top service and impeccable, irresistible food.

Frightfully delightful delicacies in Wellsford??

On a recent trip to Auckland and whilst behind the wheel of a rental car I awoke from my slumber, momentarily, to find myself in the one horse town of Wellsford. The mention of a single, unaccompanied equine is in no way meant to suggest disrespect; in fact, one horse towns are rather attractive especially if you have been grappling with the insane and furious forward motion of thousands of vehicles on motorways in a large city. My disdain for such excessively wide, overly congested, singularly unattractive carriageways is such that on my way out of Auckland I had taken the first available ‘off ramp’ to seek refuge and comfort on quiet country roads.

I hadn’t the foggiest where I was going, of course, but what an adventure! Through some exceptionally beautiful countryside, up hill and down dale you might say, with an occasional view across the verdant landscape to watery inlets and sweeping vistas. I would have been oblivious to all of these wonders had I stayed on the dreadful multi-laned ribbon of black bitumen.

Back to Wellsford. The website www.newzealand.com tells us:

You’ll find Wellsford where the Northland and Auckland regions merge. Main street restaurants offer plenty of choice for passing travellers.

Wellsford is a busy country town serving the local farming and horticultural community. Travellers can fill up with fuel, call into the supermarket for supplies and take advantage of the quick service restaurants that line the main street.

The huge Kaipara Harbour is to the west to of the town; the surf beaches of Mangawhai Heads, Pakiri, Langs Beach and Waipu Cove are to the east. If you want to stretch your legs, the Dome Forest Walkway is another local attraction.

Functional facts: Approx. population 1670, good range of shops, services and accommodation.

At this point, my dear readers, I’m going to have to confess that my visit to Wellsford was restricted to a matter of mere minutes, not hours or days. This was not because I was on day release from a mental institution or because I was afraid of the unknown(the road ahead) but simply because the figurative leash attached to the rental car had reached its limit. I knew that if I didn’t turn the turbo charged Bentley around within minutes I would exceed the  time/deadline  to return the vehicle to the hire company. The penalties were so extreme that I visualised my impending financial ruin, my sorry carcass being catapulted into penury, my hitherto impeccable reputation amongst the intelligentsia pulverised into an unpalatable slurry.

However, ever the risk taker, I chose to find the nearest cafe to my then present position to frenetically wolf down something edible, glug and gulp a cup of coffee and quickly make note of the surroundings. After all, I would be unable to forgive myself were I to pass through a town without passing comment on at least one of its eateries.

The Tangiers Cafe it was then. My first impression was that the proprietors must have recently moved from Motueka as it bore such a resemblance to a main street Mot cafe which I shan’t mention here.

A large blackboard leaning against the front counter offered homemade winter soups, with toast, for $5.50. The lucky diner could choose kumera & vegetable, authentic Moroccan, creamy pumpkin or tomato & chives. That’s not all, the food cabinet was respectably stocked with some frightfully delightful delicacies and I suspect the range changes on a regular basis depending on the availability of the freshest ingredients. This spotlessly clean retro style cafe seemed very much a friendly, open plan space with a welcoming atmosphere.

My time was short, as you already know, so I accepted hot coffee and a sinful, heavily iced homemade banana cake; I wanted much more and know that, had old man time not been such an unforgiving enemy, I would almost certainly have tried the kumara and vege soup. The ladies behind the counter were charming and their banana cake was perfectly moist, bursting with a richness of flavour and an impressive swirl of flirtatiousness. I couldn’t take my eyes off it...or put it down.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is about the long and the short of it!

Fare, "fair quivering with flavour."

It may be because I’m going through a raw fish phase but I cannot resist the lure of sashimi-ing it up at the nearest Japanese restaurant whenever possible. This can mean three or four times a week and so it was that I found myself, and my small but equally enthusiastic entourage, at Sakura Japanese Cuisine in Upper Riccarton. There’s an interesting enclave of Asian eateries in an arcade running between a large carpark shared by as many as fifty businesses and Riccarton Rd...or is it Yaldhurst? Sakura is no more than a small space but how much room do you need to slice up a bit of fish, deep fry some of this and a little of that to create satisfied customers? The essential focus here is clearly on the food and there are several sashimi options available for lovers like me.
Elegant of presentation, fair quivering with flavour and aburst with fine, soft and fondly appreciated tastes, my platter of sashimi overflowed with its own inimitable acclaim, delivering a wrap of wasabi and soy, a joy in every sense. Of course, I ventured further in the course of my dinner, grasping wistly and with enthusiasm at various other offerings such as a spunky seaweed salad, pork and vegetable noodles, mini spring rolls and no fewer than 20 exquisitely manufactured, thick and theopneustic discs of sushi, a delicacy so full of fine design, each one topped with a small scoop of roe.
All this for a reasonable price, with good service thrown in, makes for a pleasant enough evening out.

Full of Beans, South Westland

Intensely picturesque and luxuriously endowed with some of the world’s most beautiful native flora along a coastline that must be said to be nothing less than spectacular in all its primordial glory. Such divine lack of contamination, such natural grandeur, seemingly so very far from the stomping urban hordes. Yes, I’m talking about South Westland and its sheer weight of allure, its essence of timelessness that doesn’t fail to draw all of us into its lush embrace at some time or another.
Of course, many of you will have taken the unforgettable drive from Hokitika to Haast and will remember the mountains, the coastline, the unpainted, abandoned farm sheds with their rusted iron roofs, collapsing weatherboards and more. Powerful, evocative images!
Along the way you will roll into Franz Josef Village where every effort has been made to cater (pander) to the passing tourist. Nothing wrong with that at all as it’s a fine thing that people want to see our magnificent country, me included. And anyway, can any of us go far these days without topping up with food and fuel?
The town was athrong with people in early June and this did surprise me as the road was very quiet to the north. The Full of Beans Cafe is a newly opened establishment in FJ and seemed to be well staffed, bright and modern. The owner impressed me with his energy and enthusiasm – clearing tables, cleaning tables, greeting guests.
The menu was the usual , I suppose I could say, with muesli & fruit, bacon and eggs, pancakes, Benedict, Full breakfast etc as well as such delights as Clam & Mussel chowder, Whitebait Fritters, Angus Beef Burger to name but a few.
My coffee was hot and strong, as requested, and with spinach, salmon, tomato, parsley and two poached eggs atop ciabatta this was a celebration of colour and taste. When pierced the egg yolks spilled their lightly viscous golden yellow nectar over the fluffed up ciabatta, offering a scintillating visual contrast to the dark and glistening spinach beside; the moist, velvet smooth texture of the salmon giving its all to deliver a final caress.
Full of Beans might be “just a cafe” but on the day of my visit it was “on fire”, like an Olympic torch. Let’s hope they don’t slip into mediocrity as the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months.

Water + Shed = Watershed....Maybe

It was true, the day had not started well and my degenerative degringolade had continued through the morning. By noon I found myself adrift in the Ferrymead area, rumbling of stomach and as thirsty as a rutting buck. There was no other option but to abandon what was left of my woeful day and seek solace at a table for one at the Watershed cafe.
I immediately decorated my table with a glass of pinot gris and a bowl of thick, smooth chowder. Both went down well and, in my own time and at a very leisurely pace, I managed to secure the rights to a Caesar Salad along with a sampling of salmon to jazz it up a little. All was well and my second tipple, a Main Divide reisling, helped admirably to restore some semblance of normality to my diabolical afternoon.
The cafe quality salad was a satisfactory offering with all the requisite elements of a modern day Caesar and of substantial quantity to boot. By the time I sipped my parting espresso no less than two hours had passed and I was looking forward to all the joy and wonder that the evening promised.
The restorative powers of food and drink taken in the relaxed setting of a modern cafe should never be underestimated.

Oysters, Wagyu Beef, Gorgonzola & Walnut Butter...

Six moist, lightly garnished oysters, Bluff, no less, lined up on a rectangular plate with a half lemon at one end. No need to get to the end of these queued up beauties to experience a sense of very real besottedness that derives from getting up close and personal with such raw, naked bivalve molluscs. The mere sight of them, asleep in their shells is enough to hijack the mind, cause instant salivation and evoke lascivious thoughts.

As with any fine oyster, wherever in the world it may hail from, the joy comes from the true salty taste of the ocean, the textural waterslide of slippery, silken, spank-me-now sensationalism that only this food can promise and deliver.

The Hotel d’Urville restaurant is known for its ability to take its diners to a higher place with a firm commitment to accentuating the natural qualities of New Zealand produce, letting the food speak to us in its own inimitable way, untampered with, natural and noble. And so it was with my 6 oysters.

I was dining at a respectable hour in the early evening and so there was plenty of time to continue my everpresent pledge to reach for the top shelf and bathe in the true excellence of carefully sourced, prime produce. And so it was that I found irresistible the prospect of a serving of ‘FirstLight’ New Zealand bred (Central Plateau, Hawkes Bay) Wagyu ribeye, proudly marbled between grade 7 and 9. On the side a well provisioned bowl of hot, steaming winter vegetables and a splayed-edged butter dish offering an intoxicating double act of Gorgonzola and walnut butter, the sight, smell and taste so sure to entertain and please with consummate ease.

My Wagyu celebrity was indisputably shining star material and with its astounding tenderness, this masterful, oozing, proteinaceous, panhygrous ingot of earthy, grass-fed beef satisfied my needs with grace and dignity, giving body and soul to my joie de vivre and meeting my every expectation.

Following a short period of postprandial meditation and another glass of merlot for medicinal purposes and good measure, a rather splendid dessert described on the menu as “Soft Centred Chocolate Fondant and Vanilla Pod Ice Cream” came by. The 20 minute preparation time for this very beautiful but simply presented dish gave my digestive system some time to make space; the pause in proceedings heightened my anticipation for what I knew would be an affair of luscious, lasting, mellifluous decadence. The evening wore on, time was, in effect, of no consequence and so after another relaxed adjournment and a libatory dram  it was time to frolic with a quintet of  cheeses, some crackers, walnut bread, apple, gherkins and relish. Onetik Brebis, a semi hard nutty flavoured ewe’s milk cheese from the Pyrenees (an area dear to my heart), a creamy Brie de Meaux, and from the Auvergne Region of France the medium to strong flavoured St Agur Blue each gave up their secrets amidst the swirl of  a local dessert wine. The sweet nuttiness of the Karikass Maasdam, a Dutch version of the Swiss Emmental, offered its gentle refrain and the Tomme de Chevre from the Provencal region softly conveyed its confoundedly interesting characteristics to the palate with a tangy confidence.

A fine experience.

Steamed Mussels at the Mussel Pot

From my vantage point just inside the large shopfront windows of main street Mussel Pot I was able to watch the world go by. Of course, in early July little of the world is to be found in Havelock but this unstoppable adventurer boosted visitor numbers by one, surely a creditable contribution given my well known penchant for overspending on most things, especially food.
Havelock holds itself out to be the “Mussel Capital of the World” and good luck to them for being so bold. The famous Nobel Prize winning physicist Ernest Rutherford went to school in the town but its more recent claims to fame are centred on its mussel power, magical and atomic you might say. It is certainly a fine destination for those wanting to enjoy a meal or two of the legendary and therapeutic Green Lipped mussels, as fresh as the incoming tide. After all, it's all about the food!
The season was fast drawing to a close (mid July) and so I consider myself fortunate in arriving just in time. A portion of steamed mussels, whole in shell, is a formidable sight and presents one with the exciting prospect of extracting the ‘meat’, soaking up the juices in which the dish is cooked and savouring each and every bite of what must have been well over a dozen of these Perna canaliculus. My position inside the window allowed for a pleasurable infusion of sunlight onto my pot of steaming bivalve molluscs, the green lips of the shells displaying an attractive, ethereal translucency.
I’ve used the following line before with some foods and I will undoubtedly use it again and again where it is well deserved - It was a most excellent moment in time!
The walls of the restaurant are graced with valuable information on mussels and I found myself reading each of these informative notes, headed “ Did you Know?”
For instance, each mussel is capable of filtering about 300 litres of water per day and as there are 1100 million of these little rascals grown commercially in the Marlborough Sounds this equates to the filtration of 330 million tonnes of water daily. The sex of a mussel is determined by its colour – male is creamy white, female reddish apricot.
There is also a helpful suggestion as to how to eat mussels in the shell: “Take out the first mussel with your fingers. Now use the shell like a pair of tweezers to pull your other mussels out of their shells.”

You can have your mussels at the Mussel Pot in a variety of ways, steamed or grilled. To capture the essence of flavour I favour steamed and I chose the aromatic combination of coriander, chilli, ginger and coconut milk to further excite the palate. For a grand total of $18.60 for this delicious dish of the shallows I felt like a thief as these were worth much more. Certainly no chance of overspending here.
The Mussel Pot is closed July 10th until August 31st so plan ahead and treat yourself in the Springtime or over the Summer . I have every confidence you will not regret it.

Rotherhams - Fine Dining in Christchurch

Some things remain constant. Amid the ever changing urban landscape that  is Christchurch today there is a place to which gastronomes  can go to raise their  glasses in unconditional gratitude to fine food, classically excellent service and understated elegance.

Rotherhams  has delivered consistently exquisite fare to lucky Cantabrians for twelve years and there appears to be no waning of  public interest in a la carte and degustation options from owners   Martin  & Cindy Weiss.  Successful pairings of food and wine make one’s dining experience that much more memorable and serve to enhance flavours and essential tastes, so important to those of us always on the lookout for a sense of beautiful delicacy and  elevated ethereality.

Of course, the connoisseurs amongst you may decide to dine a la carte and match wines of your choosing  rather than degust. The menu is exciting and interesting, the wine list comprehensive enough to cater to everyones’ needs and the prices, in my view, entirely reasonable for a restaurant of this standing.

A glass of the Nautilus Cuvee Marlborough Brut heralded a start to the evening at our table of three, a pleasant local accompaniment to the twelve au naturel Bluff Oysters, so indisputably omnipotent, so deliciously  decadent, each blessed with such wonders as wasabi infused caviar and lime dressing.  The  euphoria continued unabated amidst our own stimulating conversation , the  considerately timed table attention from the Wait staff and the arrival of my main course, a duo of lamb:  “Lamb Cutlets coated with mustard & herb crust, tomato Provencale, mint & garlic butter...plus...Braised lamb shank, Boulangere potato and lamb sauce. “

A smooth Hawkes Bay merlot cab, Craggy Range Te Kahu, provided a creditable match with these lamb dishes, splashing its muted lustrousness across the gambit of earthy ovine flavours, gambolling playfully with the sauces, butter and herbs to capture and keep the essential pleasures of the moment. The world is a better place!

Dessert-lovers will cherish their time at this restaurant too as there are some bijou, melt in your mouth bites that would tempt even the most die-hard non dessert eater. To wit, Strawberry & white chocolate cheesecake with a brandy snap basket, vanilla ice cream, Baileys Anglaise and a chocolate wafer – a luxurious profusion of richness, colour and striking flavours to sweetly assuage any guilt you may be harbouring or resistance you may have.

Follow up with a glass of Lake Hayes Noble Pinot Gris, from Central Otago of course, or lash out on a bottle of Tempus Two Pewter Botrytis Semillion 2005 from the Hunter Valley. Either way, by the time you are ready to head for home you will most assuredly be replete.

Eskimo Lu

My house is an igloo; more precisely a western adaptation of the igloo concept as it is a 1970s style structure with single glazed windows, and plenty of them, little in the way of insulation and absolutely no installed/fixed heating. Of course there is always the option of turning on an electric heater to warm one’s fingers and toes but electric radiators struggle to get essential warmth through to the very bones and are completely uneconomic, burning through electricity with reckless abandon.

None of this is a bad thing. To many the idea of enduring life in the cold is untenable, an unmitigated, unacceptable personal disaster in a climate that does seem to offer endless bleak, overcast days & the odd Arctic wind and subzero temperature in winter. However, not every day is a miserable one! Much of the Canterbury winter features ferocious yet spectacular morning frosts leading, invariably, to the most perfect of sunny, wind-free  days; days, I submit, where it is so easy to laze like a lizard out of doors in blissful ignorance of any  meteorological mischief that may be lurking in the distant skies or the days ahead.

I’m pleased to tell you that cold weather incites this human to action! I find the cold a most excellent catalyst to exercise. Daily I stride out of my front gate and embark on a vigorous walk, albeit less than aerobic, for a few kilometres. As you fitness fiends will know, on your return to your igloo after exercise the house seems so warm and cosy. The need for artificial heating becomes less important and as you cool down there is nothing finer and more luxurious than to don a thick dressing gown or warm house coat.

Rather than huddle in front of your heat pumps, radiators and log burners I urge you all to cast aside the cosseting, upgrade your status from milksop to man, accelerate the circulation of blood in your veins, build up your resistance to illness, go forth and enjoy.

It’s mid July at the moment and in just over 7 weeks it will officially be the first day of Spring here in this glorious part of the world. Winter is such a short interlude in the annual calendar of seasons and a time when we should be celebrating our good fortune at having four distinct seasons, unlike many parts of the world where the seasons are somewhat blurred with median temperatures constant and the changes from season to season barely noticeable. There is palpable excitement in Christchurch at the arrival of Spring, heralded by a profusion of daffodils, tens of thousands of them, in parks, gardens, on roadside verges and on office desks; these beautiful, bright yellow flowers bring to us more than their visual delight. They offer an emotional, sometimes euphoric release from the previous season, a psychological pointer to the summer ahead. People emerge from hibernation and the streets become so much busier as everyone unwraps their light clothing, bares the occasional leg and increasingly frequents their local cafes and coffee shops to re-engage not only with their fellows but also with  birds of flight and salady type foods.

Summer brings with it the prospect of annual holidays away at the bach, or overseas, or indeed at home working in the garden and around the house. The joy of long days, 10.30pm sunsets, barbeques, traditional celebrations like Christmas and New Year all contribute to a lifting of everyones’ spirits.

It’s not until early April that we find ourselves moving gently into one of the most appealing seasons of all, Autumn. There are few in this country who are unaware of places like Arrowtown in Central Otago; a special place which exudes a quintessential autumnal charisma, the mesmeric, crepuscular-like phantasmagoric plays of sunlight, shadows, browns, yellows and all the hues in between enthralling and captivated all who pass through this unique wonderland.

And then there is the steely embrace of winter once again with its promise of mountain skiing, snow covered landscapes, frozen lakes and entrancingly frosty mornings followed by days like today, cloudless skies, bright, warm sunshine and no wind. Ah, tis time for another walk........

4 Giant pillows and 5 Cushions..

Nil desperandum! There are still hotels and accommodations in New Zealand that don’t charge for internet access. Staggered? Bewildered? Completely lost for words? Of course you are and that is because so many of the bloodsuckers in the beds for rent industry seem to have no compassion, no desire to acknowledge  our essential need to fire up our little notebooks in our hotel rooms; for me it was a case of  pausing momentarily to  limbeck with furrowed brow  and then pound away at the keys (can we use ‘keys’ these days or should it simply be keypad or keyboard?). I mean, who travels without a Smartphone, notebook computer or Ipad these days?

The Hotel D’Urville, Blenheim’s landmark & former Public Trust building, home to one of the region’s best restaurants, proudly located in the very heart of this pleasant little vineyard-surrounded village offers free wireless internet in all it’s 9 luxurious rooms. Methinks I’m going to enjoy my evening meal downstairs just that little bit more in the knowledge that I can connect with the virtual world immediately after my glass of Port. Sadly no cigar these days though! Yes, it’s true....free glasses of Port in the Vault on the first floor. A fine place to meet other guests in the hotel and relax in  civilised pre-21^st century ambiance.

Naturally, as scholarly and well read as you are, each of you will realise that this hotel is named after the French Explorer Dumont d’Urville who mapped much of the Marlborough Sounds. Very fitting indeed as tomorrow I expect to dip my toes in Cooks Strait before motoring around to the town of Havelock for a plate or two of freshly caught and cooked mussels at the Mussel Pot Cafe.

I am in Room 9 at the d’Urville, described in the hotel compendium as follows: “ In this room we celebrate the essence of New Zealand. Starfish, river stones and a shell collection remind us that we are a country surrounded by the sea with many rivers. Stone and glass pieces gleam from the polished concrete bathroom floor – memories of beachcombing days. A collection of miniature flax kits is framed on the wall. An icon of New Zealand travel is a town flag – several of these have been framed as well.”

Of course, there is much more to the room. From my large steel-framed colonial window I can see the sunshine splashed across the bare Wither Hills to the south of the town; there is a large four poster bed splendidly bedecked with no fewer than 4 giant pillows and five cushions. The mind boggles.....There are two elegant Rimu wardrobes, original exposed flooring and a 1940s government-sized 13 finned radiator, presumably filled with flowing hot water.

An unusual room, by all accounts, but a welcome departure from the ordinary, the everyday and the usual that one finds in New Zealand towns, large and small. This space exudes character, not just because it was a former quasi-governmental building with bank safes and thick steel doors but also because there is a noticeable attention to experience-enhancing detail and a skilful feel factor.

A night at the d’Urville is a night to remember. For me I will reflect regularly on its difference and its uniqueness as I forlornly try to cope with the uninspiring, tedious same-same of modern motel accommodation around the country.