I’m unsure where I stand on this one. I have recently returned home to New Zealand, after two and a half years away. With the hope of returning to Spain I left behind all my lovely warm winter clothes and packed clothes only suitable for a tropical holiday. Somewhere along the line I must have confused the tropical, idyllic New Zealand I had been falsely marketing to other travellers with reality. Perhaps absence in this case has made the memory a little blurry.
However weather aside (it is improving) the past month spent at home has served to reminded me of all the small things that make this such a great place to grow up.
I tackled the cold issue by donning a fetching pink polar fleece onsie and planting myself in front of the kitchen heater. To my joy I discovered it was possible to function through each week without actually having to extract myself from the suit. To fill in time between meals and to add a sense of purpose to my days, I embarked on an intensive regime of kick-boxing, step aerobics, jogging, yoga, bubble balance, hula hooping and sword fighting. Replenishing energy with delicious meals courtesy of dad. I had intended to remain in the beloved suit for the duration of my stay,late last week an unfortunate accident soon put paid to that idea. The relief in mums eyes was evident ( as was the horror in my sisters , kind lender of soiled suit) Having read all of Nicky Pelligrino’s fabulous books and after falling-out with my Wii fit personal trainer, I conceded it was time to start venturing out a bit (and perhaps bathing a little more regularly).
With mum on a girls trip, in a house boat, up the Murray river, Dad suggested a trip out to the beach was in order. Having spent every childhood summer out at Pourerere , no beach I have visited abroad since can compete. It is typical of the wonderful rural beaches all over the coastline of New Zealand. Few houses, no cell phone coverage, long stretches of sand ,great crashing waves and an abundance of seafood!
Em with a giant Kina
I have memories of us kids helping dad get the nets in early morning, taking what we wanted and putting the rest back. Natures own fish market. We would then sit down to a breakfast of fish so fresh, all that was needed was a quick dip in egg, fry in the pan in clarified butter and a squeeze of lemon.
My father is a bit of a hunter gatherer like many kiwi men. However he has really perfected the art of catching crayfish ( spiny rock lobster to those non-kiwis). I am yet to hear of any method to rival his, in success rate or speed. It’s a simple method which requires little attention to tides or weather. In fact dad hardly gets his hands wet. Suffice to say I wont be sharing exact details of this method but I can offer a few clues. The first may sound unfeasible but proven – beer. The second is slightly harder to obtain but may be substituted with store bought equivalent- a dozen eggs laid by your own free range chickens.
The bait
…..?
We really are spoilt here in New Zealand. Our rocky coastlines are abundant with this delicacy and the average kiwi can indulge year round, while our fishery laws ensure the supply is not depleted. Those who do not fancy getting wet, or who are not good friends with a diver, can look to pay between $100 –$200NZD a kilo!
Whatever the preferred method of acquirement may be, few of life’s pleasures match a meal of fresh crayfish. There are countless recipes available, but for me nothing beats a cray straight from the pot, plunged in cold water to arrest the cooking process. Then cracked with your fingers, starting with the legs, prising the succulent meat from the shell and dipping it in either vinegar or a marinara sauce. To avoid unnecessary tension, it is advisable to cater for one cray per head, as I for one cannot bear to share, not even with my nearest and dearest. I also strongly advise against encouraging the uninitiated to try even a little mouthful.
With a successful gathering expedition from Dad, our night at the beach was spent watching rugby with the heater on full power, wind howling at the door, bottles Hawkes Bay Pinot Gris and freshly caught and cooked crayfish.
Simple perfection
Could there be anything better?
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