THE SATURDAY SHOP ...
In a new regular feature, we take a nostalgic look at our adventures in shopping
Ruth Spencer take a nostalgic look at our adventures in shopping
AChristmas treat for the families of these two women: fresh pineapple on December 23, 1947. From the golden shores of Tonga, probably, to the corner of Auckland’s Queen St and Quay St in about the same time it would have taken to do these elaborate coiffures.
A pineapple is a celebration in itself, its architectural eruption of spikes and scales bringing joy to the world at any time of year. We no longer get the spikes for biosecurity reasons, which means you can’t cut the top off and try to grow it on the kitchen windowsill any more. You really can grow pineapples in your greenhouse here; each plant only produces one pineapple a year, which shows how much we take these bright little luxuries for granted.
“Pineapple does it all,” claimed Dole, the same year this photograph was taken. Upsidedown cakes with golden rings embedded in their damp flesh; chopped pineapple turning a bowl of cottage cheese into a nominal “salad”. They tenderised steaks, were skewered into hams jewelled with glace cherries, were chopped into toasted sandwiches.
To avoid controversy we shall remain silent about pizza. Pineapples were everywhere except in their greatest form: Pineapple Lumps were still five years away from being invented.
Robert Muldoon himself contributed a recipe for Pineapple Whip to a 1971 celebrity cookbook. If you’d like to make it at home, perhaps for Christmas, just let a packet of pineapple jelly nearly set, beat it until fluffy, then fold some tinned pineapple in. Astute readers will have noticed this is barely a recipe, but Muldoon added a flourish of whipped cream and chopped nuts, proving that showmanship is the politician’s friend no matter how spiky a pineapple you might be.