Rotten Eggs

photo from http://www.rotorua.co.nz/

Most people associate the thermal wonderland city of Rotorua as the place that stinks of eggs. Sulphur smells are all pervading in certain parts of the city and hardly noticeable, in others. Yesterday, I went to have lunch with a dear friend and decided to take a few photos of the free attractions (as opposed to the hideously overpriced ‘tourist traps’) and stopped at Kuirau Park. The park is in the lee of the hospital hill and near the lake front. It is absolutely fascinating. Last time I stopped there, I am sure there were not as many volcanic reminders? I do recall, nine years ago, a surge of mini eruptions in the park but have not been aware of too many since?

photo from: www.geonet.org.nz

Enclosed boiling water pools, bubbly mud pools and hissing fumaroles course through and under the walkways. The city residents seem oblivious to the limb threatening let alone life threatening menaces as the walk through the park, carrying groceries. A state of the art playground is just a few metres from hell’s spleen being vented. But the quaintest curiosity; was the tiny covered building over a pool, for people to dabble their toes in the hot mineral waters. Do they do this at lunchtime on their breaks or do class lots of smelly children come down to wash their feet accompanied by over wrought teachers or is it one of the healing treatments left over from the days when the hospital was famous for its thermal hydrotherapy applications? The best answer is probably that a former altruistic body of city councillors just thought it would be a nice thing to have in the park.

Fieldays

What a wonderful evocative word! Every year in June, Mystery Creek (another great name) hosts, on average around 30,000 visitors, over a period of four days, to view the Southern Hemisphere’s largest display of agricultural products.

Everything is to scale; the massive computerised John Deere tractor costs more than a small neighbourhood to buy. Contrast that, with three for a dollar, finger puppets.

So Saturday is deemed ‘Townie’s day’. They arrive, as a generalisation; over dressed folk carrying lengths of plastic cow prods with over indulged toddlers astride cute designer plywood bikes peruse the stands with overzealous enthusiasm. Mum has bought the ‘styley’ de rigueur gumboots with pretty little flowers all over them.

Real farmers wear thick soled sneakers (they paved the main roads, a few years ago, so plodding through mud all day, has long gone) and buy their gumboots from the Skellerup tent and thick socks from the Swandri tent.

Around lunchtime, it is the tractor pull competition time and townies and country folk alike, congregate to watch the big machines race up and down muddy paddock, against the clock. I think it is the noise that really attracts the attention. Nothing is quite like watching the grunty V engines, revving up – “stirs the old blood, I’d say”.

photos from http://www.fieldays.co.nz/

Muesli (or Granola) Bars & Muesli

I would suggest buying them is going to cost you a lot of money, for something so easy to make at home and KNOWING what goes in them, especially when there are little children in the house, is very important.

I make a muesli mix for Strathmore Lodge guests and add and subtract ingredients depending on seasonal availability or whether I have nuts, dehydrated apples or feijoas or I resort to buying some cranberry raisins!

Lately, I just add whatever I can find. Recently, I made a snack for us to take to the National Fieldays.

Muesli Bars

• 4 cups of still crunchy and fresh cereal (Special K – actually)
• 1 cup of a mixture of coconut threads, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, cranberry raisins and sesame seeds, and home grown walnuts
• Place in a large bowl and add the following mix:
• 100gm butter
• ¼ cup manuka honey (or a nice fruity honey)
• ½ cup brown sugar

Heat in a small pot until it reaches soft ball stage (this is where having a thermometer really takes out the pain of cooking with sugar). Then pour it all over the dry mix, stir well and pour into a brownie pan at about 2 cm thick depth.

Muesli

Adapted from Peter Gordon’s recipe: Arrange in a big bowl and pour heated liquid honey, oil, and mix all well. Then spread on 2 (lined with baking paper), baking trays for about 20 minutes at 150 degree C heat.

• 500gm large oats 
• 50gm pumpkin seeds 
• 50gm sunflower seeds 
• 4 tbpns sesame seeds 
• 50gm long threaded coconut 
• 150gm manuka honey – heat with the oil until runny
• 100ml mild vegetable oil like sunflower

White Island

From a series of failed mining ventures; to an award winning adventure tourism destination - this island is recommended on any ‘must do’ list, when visiting New Zealand. This is part of a published article, I wrote for World Heritage, China.

White Island is a continuously active island volcano that defies description. Its terrain is more alien and primal than an imagined lunar experience. Technically, the island is the tip of a massive underwater volcano, formed between 100,000 to 200,000 years ago, situated along the line of the subduction of the Pacific tectonic plate beneath the Indo-Australian plate.

Tourists and scientists are fascinated with ‘Whakaari’, the Maori name for White Island. Loosely translated, the word means the island disappears and reappears from view. As the island is a mere 48 kilometres off the East Coast of the North Island, it is often misty, shrouded in rain cloud or steam and cannot be seen from shore. Other days, it stands out on the horizon, a stark profile puffing out plumes of steamy cloud high in the air.

Only a few accredited tour operators are allowed to take tourists to the island. Most visitors arrive by boat but for some, the view from their helicopter arrival is breathtaking. The extremely popular and award winning Pee Jay Tours trip to White Island departs from Whakatane.

Tonnes of gases are emitted from the island’s crater, vents and fumaroles every day. And, should there be a rock eruption you better hide or run. Ash clouds, a quivering ground, static electricity surges, sonic booms and raining acid lumps are not unusual but the activity is fairly consistently at a low level.”

After just over an hour’s journey, the boat nudges in towards the shore, close to the rustic wharf remains near the site of the 1914 sulphur mining factory ruins. Inflatable IRB boats ferry tourists to shore and the extremely informative and well narrated tours begin. The guides take small groups towards the horseshoe shaped crater emphasising the need for caution and safety at all times on the island.

Maori interest in the island was well established before Europeans’ arrival but not for mining sulphur. Europeans decided to exploit the sulphur deposits.

The focus of their mining venture was to quarry and ship raw sulphur rocks to a facility seventy kilometres away at the Port of Tauranga’s Sulphur Point. There it was to be processed for use as fertiliser. Conditions for the workers were extreme and harsh. No fresh drinkable water was available on the island and the men had to make do with water stored in old petrol containers shipped in with their supplies. They resorted to emulating the Maori food storage practice of preserving meat in fat. Ten years later, the Great Depression hit and again another company went bankrupt. The Buttle family retains ownership of the island and adheres to strict eco friendly preservation principles, opening it for visitors and run by a trust.

Tertiary institutions of learning and overseas scientists regularly monitor the island. Several seismographs and a permanent camera observe a 24 hour vigil over the volcano. Links are associated between seismic activity on White Island and a recent swarm of earthquakes in the small seaside town of Matata, lying in a direct line between Mount Edgecumbe (in 1986 this was the epicentre of a mark six Richter scale sized earthquake) and White Island and the major North Island volcanoes: Mount Ruapehu, Tongariro and Ngauruhoe. Shaky residents are feeling almost daily, earthquakes around the mark four on the Richter scale. No doubt constantly reviewing their resident volcano’s activities and going regularly online to sites such as http://www.geonet.org.nz/.

For visitors to White Island they notice that few trees exist and very few birds are seen. Any seagulls hapless enough to dabble in the acidic streams will either lose their feathers or stain them yellow. Three large colonies of gannet birds nest on the extremes of the island and call a noisy and smelly welcome to visitors to Crater Bay. For feasting purposes, Maori tribes had in the past, gathered the flightless adolescent stormy petrel birds called ‘muttonbirds’ that live in burrows underground. Today, muttonbirds are still a delicacy if rather fatty and rich to eat.

In total contrast to the wild and potentially violent and harmful volcanic land based conditions, the sea especially upwind of the volcano is richly abundant with life. Around the island’s coastline, tropical species of fish life often stray into the waters and occasionally snakes and turtles will appear. But they are rare visitors. Instead, schools of maomao, demoiselles and snapper are frequently disturbed by scuba and snorkel divers.

Temperate waters host forests of kelp, delicate corals and pretty anemones. In the nooks and crannies of underwater rocks, large and small moray eels and giant crayfish hide. The region has not yet been accorded a Marine Reserve title where a ‘no take’ zone would prevent potential over fishing. And so for the moment, to the delight of game fishermen they are able to enjoy battling tuna and marlin.

White Island is unique and offers more than any man made theme park could ever do in fear factor. It is truly a world heritage site, one worth studying and one that puts mere mortals in perspective.

To Do

Nikki, number one daughter, has inspired me to write this blog. I have the message to write more about what to do? This is, having been given the scenario a guest has arrived to stay, in summer.

Katikati is conveniently positioned, an easy two hours’ drive from Auckland, one and a half hour’s drive from the rural farming city, Hamilton and one hour’s easy drive from the tourist city, Rotorua, with all of its thermal attractions.

Within half an hour’s drive there are two picturesque beach locations; Waihi Beach and the more discovered, Mount Maunganui Beach. The cafe culture is alive and thriving. Many eateries, (including a delightful newly opened cafe; ‘Tay Street’), are fully subscribed to any day of the week. Food is fresh, seafood is plentiful, vegetables are easily sourced and the region’s official provincial title, ‘The Bay of Plenty’, wears its name with pride.

We are very lucky. Fine, easily drained soils, bountiful rainfall and long hours of sunshine make life very pleasant in these climes. The landscape is easy on the eye; rolling hills, pretty waterways, islands and pockets of native bush and plenty of parks. Specifically, a day at ‘The Mount’ could include; a 45 minute gentle stroll around the base, a more strenuous climb to its top or swim in the recently renovated, salt water hot pools. Perhaps take a longer stroll along the beach, exploring the blowhole or partake in a little shell collecting. Surfing and sea kayaking are favourites. So is the kite surfing. Take a fishing trawler trip for the day and expect to see dolphins and flying fish. On land, crafty little shops sport more ‘kiwiana’ than a decade ago. In the last five years, international cruise ships flock into the harbour, for the day. Visitors often opt for the side trip, tour bus option of visiting Kiwifruit 360; a tour of a kiwifruit orchard and shop. Plenty to see - plenty to do.

Domestic Arts

Ironing. Love it or hate it. Well, I hate it. It is however, a necessary evil in the guest house line of work. We bought one of the steam bench press models. It is extremely efficient when ironing small items like tea towels but come to the super king sized sheets, it becomes a mission. I have learned the hard way, to wear a long sleeved shirt when performing the ironing chore, as the lower arms burn quite easily when glanced with the hot surface. The 100% cotton sheet is concertinaed into the fold of the machine and edged out slowly until the whole sheet is pressed, with sprays of water. The manoeuvre is awkward and needs the pull out ironing board to support the rest of the bulk. Once ironed, the sheet needs to be firmly tucked and hospital cornered onto the guest bed. I am feeling virtuous as all the beds are made up and await guests, on their nicely pressed sheets. I think, given the present weather, guests would be more interested in the electric blanket than a nicely ironed cotton sheet.

Fern

Once upon a time, we employed a schist column maker; a man who loved rocks. He suggested we add a feature pond and rockery to enhance a rather dull, at that time, front door entrance. He took a pencil and sketched an extravagant rockery and pond (complete with a cartoon dog, in the pond) design. The project took much longer to build than anticipated and the result was a creation depicting a miniature bush scene with feathery ferns growing out of the cracks of the rocks and little pebbles to help the recycled water course its way from little pond to big pond and back. We did not put fish in it, as the dogs would have lapped them up or the kingfisher birds. So once upon a summer night, a frog did come a hopping and claimed it as his own. The croaking was soothing and summery.

As in all tales, the ferns began to outgrow their domain and cast deep roots into the rockery causing cracks and displacements of the artfully created, pretend bush scene. Until, yesterday and I ripped them all out. It looks very bare.

Fairy Mushrooms

Jake the dog and I have been for our stroll in the orchard and through the pine trees, this afternoon. He smelled out old rabbit trails and I looked out for the elusive wasp nest we think is under the trees somewhere? Eyes cast downwards, I notice we are in the middle of a fungi festival or nature’s equivalent. Despite the frosty temperatures, there are hundreds of fly algaric mushrooms nestling in the pine needles. When our children were little, we told them lies about being fairy mushrooms, or some such rubbish. The truth is they probably would put you away with the fairies if you ate them. So for the mean time, they are useful to look at, only that.

Kitsch for fun

Emporiums with; dusty uneven carpets and aisles of junk, plastic, material, metal and all manner of cheap who knows what to do with stuff? Yesterday’s visit to the thriving metropolis of Tauranga city was fun. First I had a list of needs. (I love it when I am intent on choosing something, picking it up, setting it down etc. – then, a crowd gathers and all of a sudden they need the same thing!) I managed to secure the sale bargains, I wanted, make three trips to the car, hauling large,red dotted bags with nuisance sticky taped strips saying,”Sold”, on their sides, up three floors in the adjacent car park building.

 After that, I went to the places of ‘like to haves’, such as the Emporium and a favourite, Asian, ‘The Importer’, store in Grey Street. Having a lucky Fairy Godmother on duty, helped; both shops had colour co-ordinated sale items, I could use, to decorate the dining room with themed Asian or Curry Lunch adornments. I should have taken a photo of Roger looking at my treasures. His face said it all.

Garlic

Planting garlic is an easy chore, if you are able to do it without interruption. Around here, it means old needy cat, Monty has to shadow me and if that is not good enough, jump up and actively supervise the proceedings.

Meanwhile, Jake has smelled a rat – literally! He has dug a hole bigger than he is, in ten minutes flat. Wait until Roger sees it! I see the little rodent hop out of one of the three entrances to its burrow and disappear into the long grass.

Getting back to the planting – I bought extortionist priced garlic from the local garden centre, poked 5cm deep holes, 5cm apart in my ex kiwifruit plastic lined bin, garden bed. (It is raised to apparently stop the dog running it. No one told the cat.) My puny sized crop of last year should be ashamed and I am hoping that in December, I will harvest superior sized garlic bulbs... cat forbidding.

Chinese Whispers

Every afternoon, I have a cup of Oolong Chinese tea. It is a comfort thing, like a ritual I suppose?

Lately, Roger and I have been talking about going back up to China. He has established a company, dealing in steel grating products and an equivalent fibreglass product (with added extras such as; glow nose or extra grit support) called FRP. We are overdue for a visit to our suppliers and also its culturally appropriate and etiquette, to make acquaintances with your business partners, face to face.

Last time we went, I was separated for ten hours from Roger in Shanghai, missing my flight to Beijing. It was a travel nightmare and the story was published in the New Zealand Herald. I told another nightmare tale to work colleagues, in my previous life. Unfortunately, it became so distorted that I had to try and rectify it but at the end of the day, there will still be some people that think I had a foot massage, completely naked. The masseurs were not dressed, nor were most of the clients, which was culturally challenging. No-one spoke English and the hotel brochure had confused the spelling of sole and soul. After, many,” no, no, no’s,” and pointing to my feet, I received my foot massage. It was agony. I was convinced, as I winced my way back to the hotel room that I was in for fourth degree bruising, should there be such a thing? Remarkably, the next day, my legs were gloriously revitalised. I loved China, the gracious people, the humour, food and incredible sights, especially Peng Lai and the pagodas and The Great Wall.

Souper Day

When it is raining cats and dogs outside, I feel the urge to make soup.

I start with the stock - a few leftover chicken carcasses from the freezer. Into the pot, I add a carrot (diced) if I feel in a ‘proper’ mood, or just washed and broken, if I don’t. Then, I add: an onion or leek, treated the same way and any mix of fresh ginger and peppercorns. I go outside and pick from my garden; garlic, a bay leaf, celery leaves, parsley stalks and enough water to cover everything. I put the stockpot onto the outside BBQ gas ring and cook it for about 1 ½ hours or reduced by at least a third. I may scoop off the impurities, before I strain it, cool it and freeze it.

Cuisine magazine always has reliable recipes and here is one I have adapted this one:

Tomato Tamarind soup

• 1 x 800gm tin of tomatoes in juice
• 1 – 3 roasted red peppers (capsicum) – put over a gas flame until blackened, then remove skin and seeds -optional
• 1 roasted garlic bulb (in oven 160 degrees C – until soft, wrapped in tin foil)
• a thumb sized knob of ginger, grated
• 1 Tb tamarind pulp, swished around in a couple of Tbs of warm water, to remove the pips
• 1 ½ Tb soft brown sugar
• 1/8th – ¼ tsp only of cayenne pepper
• ½ tsp ground cumin seeds
• 1.5 litres of chicken stock - salt reduced, if you are using commercial stock
• Salt and pepper to taste

Place all ingredients in a saucepan and gently cook until you feel the flavour is rounded – about 30 minutes, on a medium heat. If there is too much cayenne, add a cup of rice to cook it out or if it is a bit bitter; add honey. I puree it with a stick blender then I sieve it until velvet smooth.

It is delightful to eat with naan bread or roti.

It was really, really raining today so I made one pot of stock and two different soups! Enjoy.