The Kitchen Table

You don’t want to keep making comparisons, but really, you can’t help it.

When I was in New Zealand in 1979, the country was just creeping into the twentieth century.  This time it’s full bore ahead into the twenty-first.  That’s the good news and the bad news.

In the plus column…there are lots of coffee houses.  Here, a “flat white” is like a latte and a “long black” is what we call an Americano.  Many places don’t seem to bother with plain drip coffee anymore, which is fine with me, and those that do mostly use the French press, which is also good.

Five reasons why driving in New Zealand is more fun than driving in the U.S.  (And probably lots of other places.)

1. The roads are better.  Yes, they’re only 2-lane for the most part, but they’re well maintained and well marked.
2. No billboards!  Just miles of countryside as far as you can see in any direction.  There are the usual reminders to buckle up and avoid other hazards, but these warnings are delivered with a refreshing directness.  One of my favorites is simply a picture of a highway with a yellow line down the middle.  On the left is the word Drive, on the right is the word Die.  That pretty much says it all.

Our second stay, at the end of a long day’s drive down the east coast, is Catlins Farmstay, nearly at the southernmost tip of New Zealand.

Our room is small and the ensuite (bathroom) is even smaller, and the sink is smallest of all…roughly the size of a teacup.  While it lacks the cozy charm that made Murray and Sue’s home so appealing, the bed is comfortable, there’s a sliding door to our own little patio, and June’s blueberry muffins are to die for.  Also, her husband Murray (yes, it’s a very popular name here) is a great source of information about what to do and see in the area.

When I was a little girl, I used to look at the globe and wonder how people who lived in the lower half of the globe went about their business upside down.  It seemed a difficult way to live.  And did they have to worry about falling off?

Eventually I discovered that they lived just as right side up as I did, but I was still curious about life in the Southern Hemisphere as I accumulated more interesting facts…like water in the drain circling the other way, and the different constellations that I would never see in the north.

The stories will shred your heart.
The five-month-old baby asleep in his bed, killed by falling masonry.
The twenty-two-year-old man found dead, holding the hand of his sister, who survived.
The two teens, waiting for news of their mother who was at work in the CTV building.  When news came, it wasn’t good.

Unless you’ve been living in a cave for the past week, you know that Christchurch, NZ was hit by a 6.3 magnitude earthquake last Tuesday, February 22 at 12:51 PM…midweek, midday, height of the summer tourist season.  A lovely city is in ruins, but even worse is the human toll…142 dead (expected to rise to over 200) and thousands left injured, homeless, bereaved.

Six Thousand Years of Bread.
So if you’re not a dedicated baker this topic probably doesn’t sound terribly enthralling…but it is.  You’re going to have to trust me on this one.  This book is about so much more than bread, and it’s fascinating, not to mention elegantly written.  And by elegant, I don’t mean pretentious or stuffy/academic or self-consciously arty.  It’s just thrilling prose that’s fun to read.

Early in the book the author, Heinrich Eduard Jacob, covers the history of the six grains that were first used in bread making—millet, oats, barley, wheat, rye and maize (corn.)  He explains,

Life is probably about as normal as it’s going to get any time soon.  Geoff’s in New York for the big toy show at Javits Convention Center, so it’s just me and Blue having our Valentine slumber party.  (When Geoff’s gone, she gets to sleep on the bed, and since it’s been so chilly lately, she really likes that mattress pad warmer.)  I’ve been doing a lot of baking and soup making this week, and I love to make these scones from Bread Alone and put them in the freezer so I can bake off one or two whenever the mood strikes.

Variously ascribed to John Lennon, Betty Talmadge, William Gaddis and Lily Tomlin, this pearl of wisdom has been revealed to me as ultimate truth this past week.

Of all the food mentioned in all of my books, the one that’s generated the most response, hands down, is Mazurka Bars.  This may have something to do with the description of them in Bread Alone and The Baker’s Apprentice…

“…locally world famous–a killer combination of thin, flaky crust, then your choice of lemon, chocolate-espresso, apple-raisin, or raspberry filling, and on the top the crumble layer with its habit-forming, sandy crunch…”

You can’t live on white bread alone, no matter how much attitude it’s got.  There comes a time in every baker’s life (and every eater’s life, too) when you’re hungry for something more substantial.

In Chapter Four of Bread Alone (yes, more shameless self-promotion) making white bread was a useful distraction for Wyn.  After all, she was in her best friend’s pitifully under-equipped apartment kitchen and things hadn’t yet become totally hopeless with David, so a little white bread with attitude was enough to lift her spirits.  But by Chapter Six, the writing is on the wall.