Recently in Relocation Category
That's right, Dan: you read it correctly. Schooled.
I was a latecomer to the alcohol-appreciation party: long after my fellow Ascenders had discovered the joys of Saranac's many excellent brews I was taking MGD baby-steps in the Penn State dorms. So imagine my surprise then at Mr. F's blank look when I ran through my new list of New Zealand favorites.
Emerson's 1812? Wigrams Dunkel? Epic IPA, brewed in his very own fair city (recently ranked fifth in global quality of living, seven above our own)? He had heard of none of these outstanding beers. I was amazed.
Shortly after we arrived in Wellington I purchased a six-pack of Monteith's Original Ale, hoping to find some distant cousin of Saranac's: the label made claims to the pale ale family, that it's taste was dominated by hops. After cracking one open, I called him up.
"What the hell is up with this Monteith's crap?" I asked, not realizing it was one of his favorite beers. "It calls itself a pale ale? It tastes like Coors."
Silence emanated from the receiver. I had come all this way, over years and careers and oceans, only to deeply wound my friend's taste in beer. I think I could hear Joanna gasp in the background. Short of insulting his wife, I'm not sure what I could have said to hurt him more.
Fortunately Christian is thick-skinned and not one to take my attempts at humor to heart. He also knows it'll take more than a few beers to pay him back for introducing me to Old Speckled Hen, Kilkenny, Saranac and AC/DC. We shared some of my new favorites this weekend, after a glass of the Laphroaig single malt he brought me upon our arrival. I hope he enjoyed them as much as I have.
And yes, we bought them all at Moore Wilson.
I was a latecomer to the alcohol-appreciation party: long after my fellow Ascenders had discovered the joys of Saranac's many excellent brews I was taking MGD baby-steps in the Penn State dorms. So imagine my surprise then at Mr. F's blank look when I ran through my new list of New Zealand favorites.
Emerson's 1812? Wigrams Dunkel? Epic IPA, brewed in his very own fair city (recently ranked fifth in global quality of living, seven above our own)? He had heard of none of these outstanding beers. I was amazed.
Shortly after we arrived in Wellington I purchased a six-pack of Monteith's Original Ale, hoping to find some distant cousin of Saranac's: the label made claims to the pale ale family, that it's taste was dominated by hops. After cracking one open, I called him up.
"What the hell is up with this Monteith's crap?" I asked, not realizing it was one of his favorite beers. "It calls itself a pale ale? It tastes like Coors."
Silence emanated from the receiver. I had come all this way, over years and careers and oceans, only to deeply wound my friend's taste in beer. I think I could hear Joanna gasp in the background. Short of insulting his wife, I'm not sure what I could have said to hurt him more.
Fortunately Christian is thick-skinned and not one to take my attempts at humor to heart. He also knows it'll take more than a few beers to pay him back for introducing me to Old Speckled Hen, Kilkenny, Saranac and AC/DC. We shared some of my new favorites this weekend, after a glass of the Laphroaig single malt he brought me upon our arrival. I hope he enjoyed them as much as I have.
And yes, we bought them all at Moore Wilson.
Or as some may call it, Dark Chocolate. Apparently here in NZ, actual chocolate is a rare and expensive commodity. Sure, the bags there in the aisle may look like chocolate chips and have the name "chocolate" right on them, but they are missing a key ingredient. Cocoa butter. Instead of using the cocoa beans natural fat, they reconstitute cocoa powder with vegetable oil and make something called compound. It tastes like chocolate and looks like chocolate but doesn't melt on your tongue or in your oven, like actual chocolate. We were fooled by this and bought a huge bag of chocolate compound drops. I used them along with my Shreddo in my second attempt at baking cookies on this island. Now, I froze those cookies and was really wanting a snack so I grabbed a cookie and popped it in the microwave for maybe 30 seconds. I turned around to smoke billowing out of my microwave and opened it up to find my cookie on fire. I don't know if I should blame the suet or the compound but either way, it was no good. Thank goodness for me there is a baking Goddess at Jake's office who was kind enough to share her baking knowledge and point out the compound.
She's helped me expedite my process of elimination down the baking aisle. She also pointed me to the Callebaut chocolate in Moore Wilson. So this week, I bit the bullet and purchased the most expensive chocolate chips I've seen to date. (otherwise known as the only chocolate chips I've seen in New Zealand) $51.70 NZ, or $39.20 for 2.5 kg or 5.5 lbs of chocolate chips. So now, I am totally afraid to use them.
She's helped me expedite my process of elimination down the baking aisle. She also pointed me to the Callebaut chocolate in Moore Wilson. So this week, I bit the bullet and purchased the most expensive chocolate chips I've seen to date. (otherwise known as the only chocolate chips I've seen in New Zealand) $51.70 NZ, or $39.20 for 2.5 kg or 5.5 lbs of chocolate chips. So now, I am totally afraid to use them.
My Grandma has used a clothesline for as long as I can remember. I used to think she did it just to give her foster kids something extra to do around the house. But with the foster kids long gone and an energy efficient dryer sitting in her garage, she still insists that it saves money to dry your clothes on the line.
Here in New Zealand, almost every house has a clothesline that is in constant use. Some people don't even own dryers. I remember being insistent that we have a dryer in our house because of all the laundry the girls make. However, electricity is also very expensive here so not only do we have a very energy efficient dryer, we also have an energy efficient clothesline.
So after we moved in and I decided to try and be eco friendly by using my clothesline, I gave Mean Mary a call for some advice on how to properly hang things. She was a little sassy (when isn't she) but then seemed pleased that I had finally come around to her way of thinking. Clotheslines just seem to make so much sense! I mean, maybe not in the cold winters of upstate New York but definitely in the summer and fall. Think of all the money I could have saved by drying my clothes outside.
Unfortunately, there seems to be a social stigma in the States that goes along with drying your clothes outside. You're poor. I remember thinking that any time I saw someone drying clothes outside or if we were in a neighborhood where people were drying their clothes on the balcony. "Oh, this must be a bad neighborhood." Both of the houses we've owned have actually banned you from drying your clothes outside or installing a clothesline due, I am guessing, to the eyesore that clothes drying in the breeze causes.
I am a convert. I love the clothesline. I don't even mind the extra work that it causes. True, I do use my dryer if it is raining or if I need to get the one sheet that we have for Josie's crib dry before her nap but for the most part, I dry my clothes outside and I love it.
Why sure, come on over! What's that? It's too expensive to fly over just for lunch, and besides it'd be breakfast the next day before you got here? Ohhh, you're really wondering what happened to our ongoing and incredibly mundane series of posts about food.. well never fear, we haven't forgotten you foodies!
Typically we eat lunch at home, in the very sunny eat-in-kitchen of the house we're renting. Brandie & the girls pick me up from the office anywhere between noon and 1pm, and I get an hour to play before going back to... well, play some more. Usually I drive the car back to work for the afternoon, which saves Brandie from having to pick me up while dinner is on the stove.
If left to their own devices I think the girls would eat peanut butter and jelly for lunch every day, but we try to mix things up with "toasties" (grilled cheese) or leftovers. In that department we've had a variety of new dishes from Brandie's research into the local fare (see future post on dinner), as well as old favorites like risotto and pasta or take-away from the Indian restaurant around the corner. Both girls still love hummus and carrot sticks, as well as sliced apples (no skin, please!) or banana.
There are plenty of great options for eating out, but we've been limiting ourselves to that treat only once a week (or less, as the budget demands!) Maranui Cafe is probably our favorite lunch-time destination, followed by Eva Dixon's as a close second. Both serve great food in a very casual, toddler-friendly atmosphere. If I need to work through lunch, there are a variety of caterers that magically appear every day to sell sushi, sandwiches, salads and soups as well as great "veg" to make my own.
For drinks, we usually get coffees or just drink water while the girls prefer the local apple juice. It's closer to cider than apple juice at home, very cloudy and fresher-tasting. On occasion I also like to have an L&P (Lemon & Paeroa), which is a lot like ginger ale.
We hope you've enjoyed our latest thrilling episode: try not to lose any sleep until our next one!
Typically we eat lunch at home, in the very sunny eat-in-kitchen of the house we're renting. Brandie & the girls pick me up from the office anywhere between noon and 1pm, and I get an hour to play before going back to... well, play some more. Usually I drive the car back to work for the afternoon, which saves Brandie from having to pick me up while dinner is on the stove.
If left to their own devices I think the girls would eat peanut butter and jelly for lunch every day, but we try to mix things up with "toasties" (grilled cheese) or leftovers. In that department we've had a variety of new dishes from Brandie's research into the local fare (see future post on dinner), as well as old favorites like risotto and pasta or take-away from the Indian restaurant around the corner. Both girls still love hummus and carrot sticks, as well as sliced apples (no skin, please!) or banana.
There are plenty of great options for eating out, but we've been limiting ourselves to that treat only once a week (or less, as the budget demands!) Maranui Cafe is probably our favorite lunch-time destination, followed by Eva Dixon's as a close second. Both serve great food in a very casual, toddler-friendly atmosphere. If I need to work through lunch, there are a variety of caterers that magically appear every day to sell sushi, sandwiches, salads and soups as well as great "veg" to make my own.
For drinks, we usually get coffees or just drink water while the girls prefer the local apple juice. It's closer to cider than apple juice at home, very cloudy and fresher-tasting. On occasion I also like to have an L&P (Lemon & Paeroa), which is a lot like ginger ale.
We hope you've enjoyed our latest thrilling episode: try not to lose any sleep until our next one!
So admittedly, my interest in watching sports was left alongside my taste for Zima and tolerance for cold bleachers and smelly gyms back in high school. However I have watched rugby several times since arriving here and am amazed at lack of pads, penalties, time between plays and absolute brutality that these players display on the field.
I knew that the All Blacks were playing Ireland yesterday but that's only because my neighbor had mentioned that he and his family were going with a large group. I thought to myself, "I hope I can find a good parking spot for Sex and the City tonight." That was my level of interest before I entered an Irish pub on Courtenay Street last night. My friends and I arrived before the game actually started and within 10 minutes it was pretty obvious we were the only people who weren't there to watch the game. The pub was small but still was equipped with two large flat screen televisions, one on each end of the bar. The bar filled up with people in green, we ordered some terribly good fried food and Kilkenny and then the opening ceremonies of the game began.
The Irish team sang their own anthem (I assume that is what it was) then a young singer performed one of New Zealand's national anthems 'God Defend New Zealand'. We all commented on the rain and were amazed that it had started raining so hard since we had entered the bar. And then I saw my first live haka performed by the All Blacks team. I was moved to tears. It filled me with emotion and pride to see 'my' team performing with such passion before playing this sport.
A haka is a dance and I'm not talking about the Super Bowl Shuffle here. This is a Maori traditional dance that has been performed by New Zealand rugby teams since as early as 1884. The All Blacks haka "Ka Mate", is a war cry and I know that if I were on the other side of the field, I'd be wetting my pants before the game even started. If you are interested in seeing the All Blacks perform, here's a great link. NZ Maori - Haka
I knew that the All Blacks were playing Ireland yesterday but that's only because my neighbor had mentioned that he and his family were going with a large group. I thought to myself, "I hope I can find a good parking spot for Sex and the City tonight." That was my level of interest before I entered an Irish pub on Courtenay Street last night. My friends and I arrived before the game actually started and within 10 minutes it was pretty obvious we were the only people who weren't there to watch the game. The pub was small but still was equipped with two large flat screen televisions, one on each end of the bar. The bar filled up with people in green, we ordered some terribly good fried food and Kilkenny and then the opening ceremonies of the game began.
The Irish team sang their own anthem (I assume that is what it was) then a young singer performed one of New Zealand's national anthems 'God Defend New Zealand'. We all commented on the rain and were amazed that it had started raining so hard since we had entered the bar. And then I saw my first live haka performed by the All Blacks team. I was moved to tears. It filled me with emotion and pride to see 'my' team performing with such passion before playing this sport.
A haka is a dance and I'm not talking about the Super Bowl Shuffle here. This is a Maori traditional dance that has been performed by New Zealand rugby teams since as early as 1884. The All Blacks haka "Ka Mate", is a war cry and I know that if I were on the other side of the field, I'd be wetting my pants before the game even started. If you are interested in seeing the All Blacks perform, here's a great link. NZ Maori - Haka
From Wikipedia:
I have to admit that I did actually read the ingredients before making this large batch of Monster Chip cookies (my husband's favorite) and saw that the ingredients were Suet and Rice Flour. Suet seemed vaguely familiar so I just rolled with it. Plus it said "no refrigeration required" so I assumed (you know what that does folks) that it wasn't animal product. I opened my tub of Shreddo and it looked like shortening that had been cut into some rice flour. After mixing the floury mixture in with my cookie dough and placing the first sheet in the oven I wasn't happy with my ignorance so I looked up Suet. Oh how I wish I wouldn't have.
So here I have a huge batch of cookies full of fat from the kidneys of some cow or lamb. My children each had some (Dawn, avert your eyes) cookie dough before it was baked so not only did I have them ingest raw egg but raw kidney padding. Jake is convinced that we'll eat all of the cookies and I do feel a little better now that they've been baked but not much. I tried one and they are no where near as good as my mother in laws at home. Plus there's this faint smell of roasting meat while I am baking them. I could just be imagining it. But hey, they are browning nicely! :)
I guess it's back to the drawing board with the cookie making. Just say no to Shreddo!
Suet (/ˈsuː.ɪt/) is raw beef or mutton fat, especially the hard fat found around the loins and kidneys.Yummy. Also marketed as "shortening" here in NZ. This is my first hard lesson in not paying attention at the grocery store. I had talked with several other ex pats who hadn't been able to find shortening and when I saw the little tub of Shreddo labeled as shortening at my favorite new store Moore Wilson, I was rather pleased with myself. "Haha, Chris has been here 6 years and I found this before he did." I'm really not a nice person and this is what they call Karma, or in my friend Matt's family, Bachi.
I have to admit that I did actually read the ingredients before making this large batch of Monster Chip cookies (my husband's favorite) and saw that the ingredients were Suet and Rice Flour. Suet seemed vaguely familiar so I just rolled with it. Plus it said "no refrigeration required" so I assumed (you know what that does folks) that it wasn't animal product. I opened my tub of Shreddo and it looked like shortening that had been cut into some rice flour. After mixing the floury mixture in with my cookie dough and placing the first sheet in the oven I wasn't happy with my ignorance so I looked up Suet. Oh how I wish I wouldn't have.
So here I have a huge batch of cookies full of fat from the kidneys of some cow or lamb. My children each had some (Dawn, avert your eyes) cookie dough before it was baked so not only did I have them ingest raw egg but raw kidney padding. Jake is convinced that we'll eat all of the cookies and I do feel a little better now that they've been baked but not much. I tried one and they are no where near as good as my mother in laws at home. Plus there's this faint smell of roasting meat while I am baking them. I could just be imagining it. But hey, they are browning nicely! :)
I guess it's back to the drawing board with the cookie making. Just say no to Shreddo!
I'm sure you're still on the edge of your seat from our last riveting entry, so I'll just jump right in and continue with our daily routine following breakfast.
Things tend to go three different ways at this point: if I am walking to work, I am out the door by 8 or so for a quick walk across Miramar. The little shopping area around the corner from our house is usually populated with commuters waiting for a bus into town, but I keep going with the college kids (here they call high school 'college', and what follows is 'university') towards the airport before heading north for work.
Otherwise, if I am getting a ride or taking the car myself, I have an extra few minutes to play before we leave: it's literally only a 4-minute drive, and usually we take the back way through the neighborhoods rather than by the airport roundabout. Josie is still just as determined to get into her car-seat by herself as she was before we left, and just as easily distracted by anything.
Things tend to go three different ways at this point: if I am walking to work, I am out the door by 8 or so for a quick walk across Miramar. The little shopping area around the corner from our house is usually populated with commuters waiting for a bus into town, but I keep going with the college kids (here they call high school 'college', and what follows is 'university') towards the airport before heading north for work.
Otherwise, if I am getting a ride or taking the car myself, I have an extra few minutes to play before we leave: it's literally only a 4-minute drive, and usually we take the back way through the neighborhoods rather than by the airport roundabout. Josie is still just as determined to get into her car-seat by herself as she was before we left, and just as easily distracted by anything.
Continue reading Even More Cheerful: Snack!.
Well despite having a fantastic weekend we really started the week with some downer posts - sorry about that! I guess it's because we were both missing the holiday weekend back home. (For you Californians who may not know any better, Memorial Day "back East" is something to really whoop and holler about - the official start of summer, and time to break out those white pants you haven't been able to wear since Labor Day.) I've gotten tired of seeing those same lonely two posts at the top of our page, so here's something on a lighter note.
Tonight's topic: what are we eating for breakfast? Well, let me run you through some typical weekdays for starters.
We're usually up between 6 and 7am, depending on our little alarm clocks, and in the kitchen making breakfast by 7:30. I start the kettle for tea (just to get me by until I can make myself coffee at work) while Brandie makes herself a latte on the DeLonghi Magnifica (it truly is!) The girls have lately been requesting Rice Krispies (or "Ricies" as they're known here) or hard-boiled eggs and toast with jam, or waddles reheated from our weekend breakfasts. Sophie still loves milk, and Josie her juice (apple or orange).
Continue reading A Little More Cheerful: Food.
Another installment in our 'What's Different: New Zealand' category (can you tell we're both homesick?)
All the indications of early winter are here: the sun rises around 7:30, and it's dark by 5:15. The wind whips our house at night, and I can hear rain sheeting against the windows. In a few places some of the trees have even lost their leaves. Other than the lack of snow and ice (phew!) and the fact that I'm not mentally ready to endure another winter (back me up here, Binghamton peeps!), I've had a hard time putting my finger on what else might be missing.
On my drive home tonight it occurred to me: we're missing the holidays! They make the top half of winter in Binghamton downright magical, stretching from Halloween through Thanksgiving, into Christmas and ending with New Year's (after which Binghamton's magic fades a bit until sometime in late April or early May, when it comes back with a big ray of sunshine.)
And by that time I really desperately need Spring and Summer to compensate for the long, dreary march from January to May (have a listen to Patty Griffin's Burgundy Shoes if you can't relate). Leaving Binghamton as we did in mid-April, watching it snow as our plane took off and knowing we were headed back into winter I was feeling unresolved somehow, like I had just run a marathon but couldn't find the finish line.
We're hungry for the tastes of summer too, like corn on the cob, salt potatoes and spiedies (thanks again to Grandma for our goodbye meal!) Instead we're dusting off our root vegetables and stew recipes, which of course are delicious and fit with the rainy weather but it's not what we're craving.
Don't get me wrong: it's more like a long, drawn-out spring compared to a Northeast winter, and I laugh sometimes to myself when I hear people complain about it. "It's just rain and wind! And it's only in the 50s! And when it's not raining, it's in the 60s!" Still, I could use a break from my wool socks for a sundae at Wolfie's and sitting outside in the evening while the sun's still up.
All the indications of early winter are here: the sun rises around 7:30, and it's dark by 5:15. The wind whips our house at night, and I can hear rain sheeting against the windows. In a few places some of the trees have even lost their leaves. Other than the lack of snow and ice (phew!) and the fact that I'm not mentally ready to endure another winter (back me up here, Binghamton peeps!), I've had a hard time putting my finger on what else might be missing.
On my drive home tonight it occurred to me: we're missing the holidays! They make the top half of winter in Binghamton downright magical, stretching from Halloween through Thanksgiving, into Christmas and ending with New Year's (after which Binghamton's magic fades a bit until sometime in late April or early May, when it comes back with a big ray of sunshine.)
And by that time I really desperately need Spring and Summer to compensate for the long, dreary march from January to May (have a listen to Patty Griffin's Burgundy Shoes if you can't relate). Leaving Binghamton as we did in mid-April, watching it snow as our plane took off and knowing we were headed back into winter I was feeling unresolved somehow, like I had just run a marathon but couldn't find the finish line.
We're hungry for the tastes of summer too, like corn on the cob, salt potatoes and spiedies (thanks again to Grandma for our goodbye meal!) Instead we're dusting off our root vegetables and stew recipes, which of course are delicious and fit with the rainy weather but it's not what we're craving.
Don't get me wrong: it's more like a long, drawn-out spring compared to a Northeast winter, and I laugh sometimes to myself when I hear people complain about it. "It's just rain and wind! And it's only in the 50s! And when it's not raining, it's in the 60s!" Still, I could use a break from my wool socks for a sundae at Wolfie's and sitting outside in the evening while the sun's still up.
It's this time of night that I find myself searching for something familiar to calm me before going to sleep. Even when I've been on fabulous vacations in the past, I long for "home" before the end of the trip. I realize we are no where near the end of our stay but I ache for familiar things at night.
I used to use my Tivo to wind down in the evening at home. I've tried watching TV here at night and realized quickly that I am not going to get the same effect. Everything is still too new. The shows are different, the words are different, the commercials are different. I can't turn on autopilot even when I'm trying because everything catches my attention.
I tried something new tonight though, Google Maps. I looked up our house in Endicott. The photo was updated in 2007 so we owned it then. I can't see either of our cars in the picture and was really hoping to see the kids pool or picnic table out on the back deck but even without those things, it felt familiar. Then I looked up my in-laws house up the road, then my sister in-laws house in New Jersey, then my Grandma in Idaho, then my Grandparents in Nevada. It seemed to give me my fix. All very familiar places with trees and cars and backyards that I know by heart. It was almost like I was visiting each house. I could imagine walking in the doors, the faces I'd see there, the dogs I'd pet, the food we would eat. The familiarity of not only the surroundings, but the relationships under those roofs.
Everything here is new. New places and new friends, both good things but to put me at ease, I need what I know. So tonight I'll imagine turning the tv off, walking through the kitchen, starting the dishwasher, turning the lights out, walking down the hall, opening the girls' bedroom doors, petting Eulie Dog and crawling into bed even though that routine is 8000 miles away.
I used to use my Tivo to wind down in the evening at home. I've tried watching TV here at night and realized quickly that I am not going to get the same effect. Everything is still too new. The shows are different, the words are different, the commercials are different. I can't turn on autopilot even when I'm trying because everything catches my attention.
I tried something new tonight though, Google Maps. I looked up our house in Endicott. The photo was updated in 2007 so we owned it then. I can't see either of our cars in the picture and was really hoping to see the kids pool or picnic table out on the back deck but even without those things, it felt familiar. Then I looked up my in-laws house up the road, then my sister in-laws house in New Jersey, then my Grandma in Idaho, then my Grandparents in Nevada. It seemed to give me my fix. All very familiar places with trees and cars and backyards that I know by heart. It was almost like I was visiting each house. I could imagine walking in the doors, the faces I'd see there, the dogs I'd pet, the food we would eat. The familiarity of not only the surroundings, but the relationships under those roofs.
Everything here is new. New places and new friends, both good things but to put me at ease, I need what I know. So tonight I'll imagine turning the tv off, walking through the kitchen, starting the dishwasher, turning the lights out, walking down the hall, opening the girls' bedroom doors, petting Eulie Dog and crawling into bed even though that routine is 8000 miles away.
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