KIWI hospitality
THIS year, while I was in France, I spent a couple of months in Bergerac, in the southwest near Bordeaux. During my stay I helped with the catering for a very fancy lunch at the imposing chateau of some foreign billionaire.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about this experience (aside from the wretched excess of truffles, foie gras, caviar and mindbogglingly expensive wines), was that the food was so . . . well . . . dare I say it . . . rather dull and oldfashioned. There was no chance of sneaking a little toasted cumin seed into the yoghurt dip for the crudites, or sprucing up the salad with an avocado and some toasted walnuts. ‘‘Ah, non, non, non, this is France my dear, and we only do it like this.’’
In the restaurants, it was hard to find somewhere decent to eat that wasn’t oldfashioned fussy French fare, while at the cheaper end of the dining scale there was always the dreaded ‘‘menu formule’’, inevitably trotting out the same tired old routine of duck breast dished up with pommes frites and a bit of limp salad.
To some extent, this stoic adherence to the past is what enables the authentic eating experiences we find so appealing when we travel. Imagine sitting in some little Greek seaside taverna and being served sushi. We want the souvlaki, the Greek salad and little grilled fish. Even if it may be oily and boring, it feels authentic, safe and right. But these days, here in New Zealand, we don’t just want same, same, day after day. We have grown accustomed to so much more.
We have what it takes to be the best in all things food (and wine) — an amazing growing environment, a diverse melting pot of immigrants bringing their culinary cultures to our tables, the lack of any weighty culinary history to shackle our thinking. Our tables are open to new ideas and innovation.
More than at any other time in our history, the world is our oyster.
The heart of our Kiwi culinary culture is not about all the fancypants stuff — the culinary gymnastics and clever tricks that restaurant chefs trot out to pique our appetites and plunder our pockets. To me, the essence of what defines Kiwi cooking lies in the idea of resourcefulness, coupled with a deeply rooted concept of welcome or manaakitanga.
This latter overarching principle of nourishment and care means that when someone turns up unexpectedly, even when it looks as if there is nothing on hand to eat, we will always say, ‘‘Stay for dinner.’’ The possibilities for a simple, good meal, to be seemingly conjured out of thin air, are always there.
When the pantry feels bare, here are a few of my favourites that you can easily whip together for an impromptu meal.