local food, customs & mores…

you may not know that the kiwi has been improved. no, not the people (although that might be…you know, the hole in the ozone, all the work on genetics, etc…) i was speaking of the fruit. a stateside (that’s you guys) correspondent asked if i knew about the genetically altered kiwi (fruit) that had an edible skin. i have eaten one of these phenomena and sir, they are no John Kennedy, ah, not the real McCoy, urrgh…kiwi--they are a bit bland. they do not really contain or convey that sharp, acidic green, verging on slimy tingy-tangy zing to the old taste buds that one has grown to expect with such fondness to the entire palette from the traditional variety. (apparently they are pretty much guaranteed not to upset the plumbing…the traditional kiwi challenges some people in this department…)

more digression: as i lay trying to decide if i was actually dreaming or awake and daydreaming early this morning, i had container thoughts. (although we have had no word from ‘our’ shipper, we have succeeded in finding out via the internet (we think) that after Spain and Sydney, our container might have landed in Lyttelton (NZ) today—therefore the inspiration) all of this, as you might remember, is based on the probable added digit. our paper work was one number short of meaning anything. the guy/bloke on the phone in Sydney said (2 weeks ago): oh, it’s probably this container _________-8. so i lay imagining what gary larson could do with a container and a missing (or found) digit. would he draw something useful--like a thumb attached to the container (so that the container could pick something up or pick itself up?), would we see an index finger either pointing accusingly or beckoning—come hither and check my numbers/digit ? or maybe another bleep sort of something—well use your own imagination…

the cold inside and out, the accompanying chill (due to moisture content?) is the subject for another day. the story is that we are proud possessors of central heating. a small, efficient furnace in the basement burns coal and/or wood—old news to the faithful reader. when our plumber mate was here connecting the washing machine on Wednesday (we now have a refrigerator and a washing machine—no more trips to the village stream) we discovered the reason there was no heat, despite purging air out of the system, reaching the big room—our guest room and Tessa’s teaching studio. well, duh on us, there is a small, un-noticed, efficient pump designed to circulate the hot water through the house. it’s great that we did not spend a year or two here before THAT switch was discovered…

…the different temperatures one can be subjected to in one twenty-four hour period is extraordinary. you can be outside in the morning sun in shorts at a nice balmy 70 degrees or so. in the afternoon it can cool off, a wind from the south (pole(!) which is all of ¼ of an inch south of NZ)) can spring up and bingo, it’s in the low 50’s. then in the middle of the night, when everything has cooled down, including the inside of the house, it is even less. ye olde nightcap (not a quaff) that the geezer wears on the night before Christmas when he springs to see what is the matter, is not a cute item of antiquity but a necessity! (who will be the first reader to find a nice t-shirt weight jersey nightcap for yours truly?). a couple of days ago at the local bodega (a 'Tip-Top' dairy) two toddlers walked in with their caregiver; there i was with my two undershirts, warm shirt, heavy sweater (‘jumper’) and thick wool vest--there they were: red cheeks, t-shirts and shorts--the rugby players of tomorrow. clearly if you are NZ born and bred you do not learn to feel pain. rugby for these tykes will be a lark in the park…the all-blacks of tomorrow...(if you don't know about the national team, google it)

what they have: carrots that are sweet and chewable—no cardboard, baby yams that have a glowing pink color (hello Chernobyl) before cooking—taste great, kumera you were already introduced to...ketchup/catsup is called simply tomato sauce—the taste is indescribable…so incredibly superior to Hunt’s, Heinz’s, all the ‘H’s’ and the other letters. the number two shopper (moi) purchased lemon stuffed ‘biscuits’ (cookies) the other day. the chewy, crackery part was not sweet but almost savory. this set up an interesting contrast with the tasty, sweet filling…go figure

good-bye rodent, hello marsupial…good news: we are attracting beautiful birds to our feeder (finches and/or or wax-eyes). bad news: apparent possum droppings were espied next to the feeder too…a new battle, this time with marsupials lies in the offing…

Wim got his second friday fish yesterday. he spelled the ‘indigo’, duodecimal list of words perfectly for the third week in a row and is now promoted to the ‘violet’ level in spelling. of course, if he were ever in a spelling contest he would never get to the ‘arteriosclerosis’ level because he would not be able to spell ‘labour’ ‘kerb’ (curb) and tyre (tire) etc. he also had his first play date today (this is a new milestone). Lily counters with her first invitation to a birthday party tomorrow.

and this just in: the liquor store at the bottom of the hill (c. two blocks away) happens to also brew their own beer. you can have your plastic litre (liter) bottle filled for slightly less than the cost of a six-pack. the beer has no sugars except for natural ones, is not pasteurized (duh) and has no preservatives. is this paradise or what?

enough…good night all…