Waikato Gardens

Twists and turns in the kiwifruit industry now mean local garden rambles are less easily able to be accessed if located near or in kiwifruit orchards, thanks to the PSA disease so prevalent this spring.  Our pack house organised a ladies (or mostly) tour over the Kaimai ranges and into the farming township and Hobbit famed hamlet of Matamata. This town is off the beaten track but not by much and has some beautiful gardens and tearooms.

We visited the Dalton property.  On one side are exquisite gardens and delicious café food. That was the best blueberry muffin I have ever eaten.  A designer, Xanthe White, Silver winner of Chelsea Garden Awards has charmingly created some refreshingly different garden ‘rooms’ or scenes.  My favourite was the spring garden closely followed by the potager with sumptuous strawberries.  Until, the chef/gardener says they had been sprayed with rabbit deterrant. Most of us had eaten quite a few by then.

The neighbouring driveway deceives the visitor on first approach as it looks like grazing land from the road but further in, it becomes a sand quarry, bark and sawdust mountain storage area and has a host of buildings. Anyone can go in to load up their ute or trailer with whatever mixture: gravels, rocks, pumice, bark ….. The smell is unique.  Our little tour bus tootled around stockpiles of all of the above and more and we climbed structures that sifted and swirled big bits into civilised little bits, whatever the customer desired.  It was really fascinating.  Then, the kind folk gave us all a bag of premium potting mix to take home.  And, I learned it is better to buy ‘controlled’ nutrient release mixtures rather than ‘slow release’.  The latter releases nutrients unevenly and the nitrogen is always first to go.

Annual leave

We returned to the Crow’s Nest apartments in Whitianga, Coromandel Peninsula, for our friends’ weekend away over Labour Weekend. It is two hour’s drive (windy and hilly) away from Katikati.

Friday night and Ghandi joined us over curry dinner! Saturday was Kiwi fare and Sunday was fresh fish from our half day charter trip. On the way out, we saw three different pods of dolphins! We anchored near to Red Mercury Island and as it was a bit sloppy in the water some of our group were unwell but that side of the boat caught the biggest fish.

This year we did not even go to the fantastic Lost Springs hot pools nor did we venture further to other Coromandel towns but made a detour on our way home to see Hot Water Beach and Hahei. The good news is the hot water has become hotter and more beach is involved and it is free! There isn’t any bad news. Hahei holiday spot is now my pick of places to stay. The swimming or kayaking beach is safe and gorgeous with islands dotted all around protecting the sand from surf and wind. Hahei is near to knock out picture postcard scenic sights like Cathedral Cove and Hot Water Beach and close enough to Whitianga, fishing charter trips or restaurants etc.

Next year we will go back again.

Family Surprises

It is a good thing I was home on Monday afternoon.  I answered the phone and was asked what were we having for dinner then would there be enough for two more?  Finally, I was asked if I could come down to the bus stop and pick up Nikki and Rick as soon as possible.

Of course I couldn’t find the keys straight away and I also realised two miserable bits of schnitzel would not feed four so without breaking the speed limit I screeched (they do) on the brakes, flung the car door open and still did not quite believe my eyes.

After number two daughter had left in July for the great Land of Oz, we had resigned ourselves to the fact we did not have our family left in New Zealand. I can even say I was most unhappy about that. 

Hearty hunks of steak were hastily purchased, wine of course and then a cunning plan to race home and surprise Roger.  He was parked by the barn and scowled at me for speeding up the drive. He still did growl at me despite being pleasantly surprised at our guests’ arrival.

In four days we’ve been tourists. We have been to the Mount, visited the King’s Seeds’ outlet to buy the flower and vegetable seeds for summer. While Nikki stayed at home dealing with recruitment bods, Rick and I thought it was a good idea to become more acquainted with the subtle noses of a Sauvignon Blanc or two at Morton Estate. Today, we had a lovely lunch at the Beach RSA and Rick made damn fine pasta the other night.  Life in ‘Godzone’ is very agreeable.

Little Creatures

Holly says my blogs have become too general and not homely enough so here’s one for you Darling. Or Darl, should I say! Well, I thought of you after our Skype and went out into the garden again which was sadly neglected after the winter rains. I had the ancient cat shadowing me and Jake the Flake dog took off to chase rabbits in the kiwifruit orchard. Not that he will ever catch them being so short sighted.

It was misty and not quite raining but dull and warm so the tools of the trade accompanied me; wheelbarrow, clippers, Japanese magical gardening tool, rake and my latest accessory – an old pillow! Perfect for the knees.

As I was zenning out and the cat was yowling and cruising and being a bit of a nuisance – always being right where I wanted to weed. Then, I reached under the rosemary hedge to extricate the stubborn leaves of Autumnal origin. I disturbed a cute little hedgehog, fast asleep under layers of warm leaves. I left it alone and proceeded to barrow out more and more leaves and the cat started staring at the ground – I had not noticed the number of creatures I had disturbed; bees, earwigs, centipedes, ikky things with lots of pincers and legs and finally a ring necked pigeon!

By then, I was scratched, itching, bleeding from flaxy plants but thanking some Saint that we do not have snakes or too many ‘bitey’ things or spiders or lizards that have saliva that makes you skin atrophy or any number of dodgy deterrents from the gentle pursuit of gardening. This is when my former self kicks in and when I thought of gardening as a chore, a thing to fit in in the weekend between other chores. Now I hear the trill of tui birds, sweet summer singing of the sky lark, urgent call of quail birds, squabbling of the Canada geese, Honky the goose, alarm of the blackbirds and secret whispering tweets of the yellow and wax eye birds. Holly, you wanted a homely one but I wish you could have helped me with the raking. Never mind.

Moon lit

Sunday nights will often see us dining at the ‘local’.  Forta Leza Country Inn is the historic milk factory/creamery converted into a restaurant for nearly thirty years and still hosted by Hayden Belcher.

Sunday roasts are the special of the day and we meet with the regulars and smile at the memorabilia along with the rough stucco paint finish, adzed ‘70’s furniture and ‘chink chink’ of the gaming machines.

Ha ha – we were found gambling by our neighbour.  Our princely gambling money is a $2 allocation and for the second time in three recent visits we won enough to pay for our dinner. We left with gold coins jingling and ran in to the resident artist, Antony.  He paints the most mystical images of real life subjects – read sort of gauzy and ethereal.  If it is frosty, the white on a painting will glow. If it is stormy the colours will glower. We chatted and asked him what he was painting and where was he exhibiting and he was very happy, he was doing well and becoming renowned as a ‘good artist’.

Then he said, “You have some of my very good paintings.”

I said, “And, I love them.”

“I know you do.”

…and he wandered off repeating, “My very good ones….”

Rivers and things

For a bunch of colonials I think NZ serves the most amazing freshly brewed coffees in the world.  I am no expert but we did not find anything as delicious as a trim flat white in Europe.

So, what one does (sounds pompous already!) is seek out a decent  cuppa in every town or city one visits.  Even the Caltex petrol service stations ‘Wild Bean” cafes on the motorways and  State Highways do a brilliant take away  coffee.

We went to Hamilton to measure up a job for Roger’s FRP. He dropped me off in Hamilton’s city centre and I walked the length of Victoria Street and was appalled …..

Homeless, scruffy, aimless souls, run down shops and an air of a dying city centre?   I had loved the main street of the city in the 1970’s when I was a university student and would go into the posh shops to covert the most amazing furnishings or the book shops to revere the quality hard bound books.  There weren’t many decent restaurants to enjoy in those days but the affluence of a thriving farming based economy was obvious.  Not now.

I enjoyed a delicious coffee at Scott’s Epicurean café and ambled on down into the Art Gallery.  Hamilton has always done art well. And, I love the river behind the gallery, its strength, its power, pretty tree lined and park like surrounding banks and the tiny pavilion I was privileged to solemnise one of Nikki and Rick’s friends’ marriages there.  Not to mention flying over that part of the river, more than once in Max’s hot air balloon.

So to lunch – we could not find anything appealing on the main ‘drag’.   The only populated area was the fore front of the Sky City gambling place and there we found a very subdued but tasteful restaurant called Silk.   Roger was more than perplexed when asked for his ‘action’ card to pay for the meal.

Goosey Goosey Gander

Whither do you wander?  Upstream and downstream …

Spring is on its way with the weirdest surrogate mothering arrangement, again this year, on the farm.  What happened to Daddy Drake?  Did Honky the noisiest goose ever, fight him off?  What compels a bedraggled Goose specimen to assume the role of chief Duck Defender?

 The black swamp hens (Pukeko) are paying all too much attention to the little ducklings, for my liking. The peril of eels under their wee legs in the stream doesn’t bear thought. All of that weed in the stream should have died off with the frosts.

We did not have a true cold snap this year; a few token frosts, a smattering of snow on the ranges and sometimes an eerie mist wafting up the valleys in the early morning then dissipating into the harbour. That’s all.

New Zealand food prices are exorbitant this winter and I am a strong advocate of the 100 mile food gathering philosophy.  Who wouldn’t be around here? The Bay of Plenty: maize flour, every semi tropical fruit, avocado and olive oils, a host of vegetables and best of all - WINE!!! Morton Estate winery is a five minute drive away. My vege garden is sporting a new fence –well, nearly finished.

We have enough home grown vegetables and salad greens to keep us well fed so I have started planning for the summer.  A trip to Kings Seeds on a Friday morning gave me the inspiration to plan to plant a few more annual flowers as well as more vegetables for Nikki’s wedding.  (We’ll still be raiding the roadside dahlias though!)

Winter Weather Wildness

We were wending our way down country again, in the winter.  It wasn’t until we were on the Desert Road, (altitude 792 metres), that I began to contemplate how limited the paint palate was in that desolate expanse.   Tussock grasses, ‘de rigeur’ in the early 2000’s landscaped gardens grow naturally here and not a lot else.  Snow clouds were racing towards us and snow ploughs in convey were heading toward the Northern end of the road.  Without any surprise at all, an army tank on exercise just popped up from a hidden valley in front of us. On the return trip home, the magnificent mountains showed their faces.

Having travelled the route from Tauranga to Wellington all my life, always to visit family I am surprised how little the towns have changed and how the rugged Rangitkei ranges and Mangawekas still fill me with foreboding.  It is big country, huge ravines, and massive grey hill faces that slip all too easily and sheep country.  Hunterville pays homage to the humble sheep with touristy sculptures in the town centre. The town is one of the more attractive on the haul down south.  Many of the sheep farms sport English sounding names like Glen Hills and the weatherboard homesteads are protected by wind blocking stands of hardy trees. The town hall boasts it was built in 1929 and the old Post Office is now a B &B. We encountered one of our more memorable weather adventures after Hunterville; driving into a wall of bruised clouds, it began to hail of Biblical proportions and the road became treacherous.  We passed a casualty car half in a ditch.

Enterprising Kiwis have built extreme sport adventure parks in the region and you are able to scare yourself silly on a number of activities. But not for us; ours was a sedate trip with a roadside stop at a ‘rest area’ where we enjoyed the simple pleasure of drinking a thermos  full of tomato soup and a homemade sandwich.

Tomato Soup

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 onion finely diced

2 cloves of garlic crushed

2 sticks of celery finely diced

Pinch of cayenne powder

750 mls of spicy tomato juice

2 cans chopped tomatoes

1 teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce

Salt, pepper to season

½ cup chopped herbs like parsley, chives or 1 tablespoon of basil pesto

Heat oil in a pot add garlic and onion stirring until softened.  Add all other ingredients and season before  serving up to 6 portions.

Mountain Town

One hour from our home is the small town of Te Aroha.  It is nestled under a formidable mountain that rises straight up from the Waikato dairy plains.  It has an awe inspiring presence.  One, I fell in love with as a university student all those years ago when I would go to stay at Anne’s for the weekend. Her mother cooked like a dream!

Last weekend, Roger and I went to Hamilton and detoured to go hug our mountain, driving up past the candy striped war memorial resplendent in pink, as is the main pink bridge in town with its unbelievably retro lamp stands. We did a tourist drive by of the town’s main attraction, the thermal spa springs and their 1920’s outbuildings.  Roger’s mother said as a child she used to go from spa town to spa town in the North Island as part of their annual family holiday.  What a civilised pursuit! Teahouses, tea dances, World War Two and the American soldiers stationed there hmmm – a lot of fun for some....

The indoor hot pools are refilled after each bather.  A hot soda geyser spouts forth above the spa buildings and other buildings are dotted over the flanks of the mountain. Such as a restaurant, more bathing huts and recreational genteel ghosts of the past like the band rotunda. Accommodation choices are plentiful and some offer mountain bikes for their guests to explore a most delightful place.  

International Guests

What a difference a few weeks makes in the garden. Today it is blowing rain sideways and the trees have decided to dump their leaves. Our compost bin is too small to accommodate them. I am trying not to think about clearing the pond or sweeping the drive until the wind dies down.

Luckily, we do not have any more groups coming for lunch and a hit and giggle off the front lawn until next summer. A highlight for our visitors was being able to pluck apples off the trees and see the citrus, other fruit and nut trees in all their fruitful glory. Our golden delicious tree is a star in a Hong Kong documentary. (A pity I had already picked the big fruit off it!)

Nor, do we have any more folk filming the guest chef demonstrating what to do with kiwifruit. Stephen Barry from Mount Bistro made delectable treats with gold kiwifruit. Who would have thought of filling a kiwifruit with crème brulée?

Waterfall wedding

I had the special privilege of being asked to be the celebrant for one of my students of many years ago. He grew up within metres of the native forest and knows the hiking tracks like the back of his hand. He told me all his life he had dreamed of being married by the twin waterfalls which were a couple of kilometres away from the family farm.

About twenty of us slipped and slid our way down to the site, crossing two rivers, before the bride was ushered in from behind a big tarpaulin to change into her gown. The air was cool and quiet with just the ever present rush of the waterfall in the background. The bush atmosphere mutes unnecessary noise and adds another dimension to any gathering of people.



Joe, the nephew, was the ring bearer.

After the ceremony, the little children threw themselves into the rather cool waterfall pool and teeth chattering were bundled up in towels before trekking our way back to the farm. Many of the oldies opted to use walking poles like this carved veteran of journeys around New Zealand. This venerable pole has assisted its owner on the Routeburn and Heaphy tracks and as of late, now the Eliza Mine track, to see a marriage in the bush. A bush, all the family love.

Summer fun

I am going to miss these wonderful warm summer days. Already there is a golden slant to the evening sun rays. A wee harbinger of Autumn days and cooler nights and probably more storms. This year they just keep surprising us with their ferocity. I am harvesting vegetables furiously too.

On the good evenings we have lazy evening meals outside and on one recent, glorious evening I was invited to fly up in the neighbour’s Chipmunk plane for a round of loop de loops, spins and rolls over our house and the harbour. Having never experienced G Forces, or pressure to the chest as you go up high, very quickly; I was too busy watching the earth appear above my head and marvelling at the toy like landscape below. I was on the biggest high for hours afterwards.

So when we can, we neighbours, share the good times. We are lucky to have a pine forest that loves a good get together. Bevan (81 in the shade) donated the smoking billy BBQ, Rog affixed the spark guard and the rest of us brought over salads and sweets to ‘pot luck’.

This is where our eldest daughter wants to be married in less than a year’s time. Smokey Billy will not be invited.

Ho Ho Hot

Season’s Greetings in at least 27 degrees Celsius heat. La Nina, the Pacific weather system that throws up humid, tropical, stormy, sticky weather throughout the month of December, taunting us with one beautiful summer’s day in three. She, dances on the stage throwing hot flooded hissy fits in drought ravaged Queensland, Australia and heavy downpours rotting crops in New Zealand. (Without the snakes and cane toads).
The morning of New Year’s Eve, I enjoyed a coffee and catch up with a dear friend, mindful of the afternoon forecast promising thunderstorms. The flies were sticky and people desultorily dawdling on the foot paths. I battled with traffic headed towards Waihi beachside village, a mecca for sun seeking visitors wanting adventure on the Coromandel Peninsula.

Columns of cars snaked slowly towards the sand, toy laden with must have beach gadgetry: jet skies, kayaks, newly popular paddle surf boards, mountain bikes and zodiac rubber boats. The occupants of the cars converge on the village clad in ill fitting baggy beiges and sloppy tops crafted in some Chinese sweat shop. The whole beach fashion world has gone sloppy and troppo. Dozy folk wander aimlessly around the shops weighing up the virtues of purchase of one lot of imported Indonesian tat against another, ‘so not to wear’, to work clothing.

However, there is hope. A clever shop, brightly painted, filled to the brim with aforesaid tat, has pebbled a path and signed a sign declaring a secret garden. With anticipation, plodding pedestrians push through the authentic antique Indonesian doors. They come upon a glorious Balinese tableau of numerous, spaciously planted and situated wooden dais with squishy embroidered pillows (yogic stance preferred), wavy flags and colourful pennants paying homage to Buddha. Tired old grandparents vie with toddlers piling pillows and the man and his wife throng into the little sliver of an oasis more befitting another world. A world more suited to the gamelan orchestra, incense and candles than Kiwi fish and chips, a pie and a beer.

Le Crowd

I have now hit a new benchmark; I catered for 50 people.
It went well. A lady had her 80th birthday here and Holly, the chef daughter, was conveniently absent by leading a tour of AFS students around the South Island and throwing herself off bridges, paragliding and helicopter flying around glaciers. So Mum had to deal with it!

Menu 
• Oriental beef balls
• Thai chicken cakes
• Tomato tartlets
• Blinis
• Salmon sandwiches

For some reason preparing the food turned into a comic opera. My initial tartlet cases were way too large so I down scaled and used mini muffin tins for the pastry. The weather was humid so the icky, sticky French butter pastry would not behave and we ended up with what Italians might call rustic torta.
The chicken was gross to deal with as usual, but the punters pronounced it the dish of the day. I tried three different blini recipes until I found the Lord blini of all. It was organic and grew over night in the chiller fridge into a frothy, deliciously light concoction whipped into perfection by adding egg whites.

Thai Chicken Cakes – makes 25

3 eggs lightly beaten
1 1/2 T finely chopped coriander
1 T fish sauce
1 -2 T oil
3 breast equivalent chicken mince
2 stalks lemon grass white part only, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic crushed
3 spring onions, chopped
1/4 cup lime juice
coriander leaves, stems chopped
2 T sweet chilli sauce
1 tsp fish sauce
1/3 cup coconut milk

Preheat oven – 200 degrees C and lightly grease 3 -4 (12 hole) shallow patty tins or muffin tins.

Combine eggs, coriander and fish sauce. Heat the oil in a frying pan and pour in the egg mixture. Cook for about 2 minutes each side until golden. Roll up and shred finely. Set aside.

Mix the mince, lemon grass, garlic, spring onion, lime juice, extra coriander, sauces, egg and coconut milk in a food processor – fine but not smooth.

Spoon into patty tins and top with a large sprig of coriander. Bake 15 minutes or until cooked through but rotate trays so all are evenly cooked. Serve warm and garnished.

Dipping Sauce – 10

½ cup lime juice
¼ cup fish sauce
2 tsp sugar – dissolved
Kaffir lime finely chopped
Sweet chilli sauce to taste

Blinis – makes 100 baby sized using a teaspoon measure

520g full milk in a pot until lukewarm
20gm yeast
2 egg yolks
3 egg whites

Milk in a bowl then carefully tip the yeast into the centre. Add yolks. Whisk. Add 300gms flour. Wrap and rest at least 30 minutes. Add stiffly peaked egg whites. Drop a teaspoon sized portion into a hot buttered griddle or frying pan. Turn when the surface goes a little dry.

As for the salmon, shame on you lazy fish factory workers! They had shaved the salmon into slices and removed some of the pin bones but made waste of a good eighth of the entire packet. Even the cat could not finish the scraps.

At the end of service, I went outside to talk to the barman husband of mine and observe toddlers swaggering around with our beautiful wine glasses perilously in hand and children in gorgeous garb rolling down the grassy slope, the dog of ours being a prize attention seeking brat and to top it off white chocolate cake decorations smeared everywhere. So we did not charge enough AGAIN.

Whitianga - Coromandel Peninsula

There are two places in New Zealand I love the most. One is home, Katikati. The other is where I was nearly born and raised – Whitianga.
Instead, in my youth, we endured a two day epic journey from Wellington, slipping and sliding inside a tiny car with their over tightly packed leather seats complete with the car windows drawn up. Father was always smoking. Repeatedly, we climbed in low gear, up and over the mountainous ridges civilised only by gravel roads. Every major other, and Christmas holiday, the trek up country began. A night’s stop in Hamilton at my dour, Presbyterian war veteran Grandparents' home did not sweeten the venture even if the strawberries may have helped (stolen by me from their garden and caught in the act on camera.) God Bless long legs!

Whitianga. Sea air, Phoenix Palm Boulevard, diesel sea trawler fuel, putt putt ferry between the wharf and Cook’s Beach ferry Landing, sand, moonlight on the water, dolphins in the harbour, the girls, in the pool, my Mum and Dad relaxing with us ... Such precious memories.

2010 Labour Weekend. We went with Roger’s friends and their better ‘halves’ annual weekend away trip. Magic views from our apartment, glorious weather, bought a fresh fish off the wharf, were given a bag of fresh mussels. What a fantastic locale to do; ‘The Lost Springs’ thermal attraction, Driving Creek Railway in Coromandel, Cook’s Beach and many other places. We ate too much and boys do tell terrible jokes!

Suffice to say we enjoyed the place so much we booked the same room, same weekend again for 2011. I wish my Mum and Dad could see it now. The roads are so much better but I fear the fishing is much worse.

Peacock’s Paradise

Another garden story but it is spring!
On the steps a girl and her grandfather feed the birds at the Katikati Bird Gardens. The girl is mine and over twenty years later, she still distrusts the white ducks.

The Bird Gardens are only a minute’s drive from home and I thought we would take Bob out for a Devonshire Tea. I heard the owner telling the Rotary club group that they have been open for 36 years now. For our family, that means memories of Nan pushing Holly in the pushchair, Gran pulling the girls in the garden trolley and two girls riding their bikes with Mum in the school holidays. The most memorable recalling the little fiend who had pushed Holly into the pond. Dad then hauling her out and wrapping her sodden, sobbing, self in a car rug.

Today at least two pious peacocks were shimmering in their displays to the rather indifferent pea hens. The telephone (imitator) bird was quieter than usual but the more vocal birds were full of spring’s delights.

However, like on our farm it appears wee ducklings have suffered at the perils of hawks, stouts and possibly stray cats.

An elegant country garden

A true gardener is a passionate collector of plants and knows their habits; when they are at their best and the colour combinations that enhance each element.

This morning, Holly and I were privileged to wander around our neighbour’s exquisite collection of trees, shrubs and flowers that encircle her country home. The chosen plants have been considered before planting and the garden plan was commissioned from one of New Zealand’s most respected gardeners. Trish Waugh, has won Gold at the prestigious Chelsea garden award.

What I love about Jean’s garden is its colour and form, all year round, but is best seen in the spring light. Jean praised the ‘ajuga’ for looking stately as the bluebells had faded in their glory.

She lovingly held the long leafed delicate maple and we all marvelled at the rhododendron blooms.

 Bevan, her husband, was mowing their carpet like lawn. This is a true garden with heart and soul.