For Those About To Rock…


Above: Alice Cooper. He angry.

Food blogging very temporarily on hold. Through my work, I managed to pocket free tickets to Rock2Wgtn, the two-day music festival with some muscular headliners – Ozzy Osbourne and Kiss. These tickets are exceedingly pricey so Tim and I were rather stoked. I realise my list of pet sounds on the right hand column of this blog don’t exactly display bogan tendencies, but – and I don’t want to come off all David Brent here – some of my favourite music errs on the side of ‘heavy.’ I count Metallica’s ‘Fuel’ is one of my (admittedly million) favourite songs, and Motorhead’s album Ace of Spades gets high rotation on my iTunes (and how could it not, with such ditties as Love Me Like A Reptile?) To be fair though, my knowledge of all the bands headlining is mostly gleaned from various reality TV shows, 80s compilations, and Top 40 Guitar Riff countdowns on C4. Despite, or perhaps because of this, we had an amazing time.

Last night was Alice Cooper and Kiss:


Above: Alice Cooper is absolutely mental. He has to be what, 97 years old? Yet in the course of his set, he threw out ropes of pearls into the audience, attacked a dummy replica of himself, engaged in a glorified display wife-beating with his backup dancer, sacrificed a baby (doll, don’t sweat), had three costume changes, (who is he, Kylie Minogue?) got put into a straightjacket, was hung from a noose (it looked pretty real), flung fistfuls of money about and attempted to run for President. A Troubled Man for Troubled Times, was his pithy slogan. (Your move, Obama…) Listening to a lot of Radio Hauraki in my late teens meant that I ended up knowing a lot more of his songs than I anticipated, and so I was able to have a good singalong. His face is just fascinating though. He looks like a Quentin Black illustration. It is just begging to be doodled.


Above: This. Was Kiss. Blissfully ignorant of the definition of “carbon footprint,” these platform booted nutters sent off jets of fire, sprayed confetti everywhere, and punctuated their singing with fireworks displays. The lead singer (the one that’s not Gene Simmons, the drummer, or that other guy) rode a flying fox across the audience. They were excessive and excellent – truly, truly entertaining.


Above: Ah, the tongue. You better believe this happened a lot. He did not disappoint. It’s funny, a lot has been made of Gene Simmons’ many er, conquests, but while he was strutting about the stage I couldn’t help but imagine him chuckling: “My rhymes are so potent that in this small segment I made all of the ladies in the first two rows pregnant.” (I know, quoting Flight of the Conchords is now passe, but here in NZ we tend to always get the memo later than anyone else, and besides, just click on the link.)

Hot Cross Buns and other Easter baking to come (sandwiched between frantic essay writing and photo-taking) and I guess we will find out tonight what Ozzy Osbourne has in store for us, and if Bret Micheals from Poison is as bloated as he looks in Rock of Love.

"A Mighty Win" or, "All Your Bar Tab Are Belong To Us."

Just a brief note to let you know that with our pooled knowledge of “German wine, turpentine, Gurtrude Stein,” Tim, Paul and I won ANOTHER pub quiz. We came first at this one (held at the fairly lamentable student bar at uni) and won the slightly unsettling prize of a $100 bar tab (yes, another one), a couple of used looking CDs and bumper stickers from Kiwi FM (is that thing still going?) and…a large box of Watties Cup a Soup Chicken and Corn sachets. I’m surprised they didn’t give us a pallet of loo roll. But seriously, all free stuff is great fun, and we were amazed that we’d won again – that’s $200 worth of plonk in six days. I’m not so crash hot at maths but I’d say we were running at a profit!

Erm…since we decided we never really wanted to go back to that particular bar, we finished the tab last night. Let me tell you, $100 goes a loooong way between three people. I’m feeling alright this morning, but no less terrified about my 4 hour photography class at today – the teacher makes me very, very nervous. Did I mention she was humourless? Rigid? And I still haven’t managed to tell her that Aperture is completely over my head – and yes, I’ve read the instructions for the camera!

In other news, spare a thought for Emma, who has fractured an elbow (her dishwashing elbow, apparently) while falling down one of the many precarious staircases that grace our city. We smirked at the time because she fell over while txting, but it really isn’t a fun thing to happen to anyone.

More food soon! Including the first casserole of the year – the weather here is suspiciously Wintery…

A Weekend In The City Part 2: Whereat we “…Have General Run of The Town.”

Okay, so apart from seeing Rufus Wainwright and pestering local celebrities, we ate stuff…and apart from eating stuff we actually did things too.

I have a head cold at the moment (guess who I caught it off?) so I really just want to go to bed, but I have to get all this out otherwise it will take forever. You don’t need me to tell you how sucky a blocked nose is…although it’s funny, no one gets any sympathy for having the common cold because it’s, well, common – yet once you get it, there is nothing quite like that awful trapped-in-your-own-head feeling you get when unable to breathe out your nose. And I have to eat standing up or my nose shuts off completely and I can’t taste anything. It’s not as bad as last time I had a cold…You know, that’s probably about as much as you need to know about my nasal passages, so back to Auckland…

One thing Tim and I noticed about Auckland was that there were three trillion minimarts/convenience stores. They are EVERYWHERE, and I am only barely exaggerating about the amount of them. Tim and I tried to go into every one we saw, but we just couldn’t do them all. Simply couldn’t. I think if you gave yourself a week, and only went into minimarts, you might start to scratch the surface. From one of said minimarts we bought some bread and some expired peanut butter (only a dollar!) to have for our breakfasts. The kitchen at the hostel was really clean and spacious and well-appointed – we have seen some seriously grubby ones in our time, so this was quite a relief. And the “Free Food” box was bountiful to say the least – we got a bag of couscous and a whole pack of fettucine!


Above: There is no Wendy’s outside the Auckland region. I’m not talking about Wendy’s the icecream chain (I have no idea how two companies ended up with the same name in the same country, explanation anyone?), but the burger place with the really annoying guy on their ads. Annoying or not, their burgers are seriously good- the buns of which are rather magically delicious, I’m guessing because they are pumped full of sugar. Tim and I had dinner at Wendy’s on Queen Street on Sunday night, before going to see the movie Juno. Which was very sweet, if a little talky. Apparently sales of hamburger phones have gone up 759% in America since this movie (the sassy protagonist owns one.) Frankly, I craved a rich, smooth orange tic-tac after seeing Micheal Cera’s character chomp through them – I wouldn’t be surprised if their stock begins to rise, too.


Above: I’m not sure whether or not Tim will appreciate me putting up this picture of him but I wanted to illustrate how enormous the Wendy’s cups are, in a scratch your head, “Is that legal?”‘ kind of way. (Also there is a photo of me with the cup but I was having an unphotogenic, er, moment.) Look closely. That cup is about as big as Tim’s head. It’s more vessel than mere receptacle. I’ve seen spa pools smaller than that. Et Cetera.

On Monday morning we took a soujourn through town; stopping at Real Groovy which is indeed much groovier than the Wellington branch of this shop.


Above: It even proclaims its own grooviness with a big lit up sign! I have nothing bad to say about this place: Tim found a White Stripes single with heaps of live cuts, I found Leonard Cohen’s I’m Your Man DVD for $15 (!!) I finally found the Rent OBC recording including its original booklet (!!!!), we got a CD from 1998 featuring a Rufus Wainwright radio interview and live performance, and they gave us a tour poster for free. Which we left in the airport terminal. But if we send them a self addressed envelope they’ll send it back to us! In the end that free poster will be pretty expensive.
We visited the Aotea Centre, where I used to go to see a lot of ballets and shows. They have a giant feather and giant paua shell sculpture that I used to love looking for, so it was fun to see them again after so long. There was also a photography exhibition in honour of the Beijing Olympics downstairs, so we got some culture with our shmoozing. I have to say though, the place is looking a little…shabby. That eighties decor was pretty exciting to a six year old in 1992, but however many years later…at least vacuum the place.
The Art Gallery also featured on our itinerary, where there was a rather awesome portraits theme going in the free area. Some were gorgeous, some were thought provoking, some, (the ones by Yvonne Todd) were seriously sinister…There was a mini-exhibition of Tony Fromison, someone who I had never heard of, but who certainly made some great artwork (I hate talking about art, to be honest. What use are the words “interesting” and “good?” And as I have found out, writing Art History essays, there are only so many times you can get away with the word “juxtapostition…”)
Above: We lunched at Wagamama… The only thing Auckland has in more abundance than minimarts is places to eat. It’s daunting. It’s downright mindboggling. How do they all get customers? How do people know which ones to go to? We had been wanting to go to Wagamama for a while, as we had gone there while in London and absolutely loved it. Of course when it comes to NZ it doesn’t go to Wellington…anyway everything they do is crisp and fresh and flavoursome and fast. I had a ginger chicken noodle salad and Tim had something similar but with pork. It was so delicious, and a breeze gave us merciful respite from the often overpowering heat of the city.
Above: This is a metaphor for…actually it’s just a photo of our rapidly emptied plates.
Tim and I played a lot of air-hockey during our stay in Auckland. Now, generally I hate those video game places, like Time Zone, because they are always so seedy. The only game I like to play is air hockey…incidentally the only computer game I like to play is Tetris. So after every big meal, Tim and I would hit the machine and play a couple of rounds (as if it was going to do us any good, although I did have a bit of a sore arm after playing.) Normally I’m not that bad, but I was just awful this weekend – half Tim’s goals were scored by me.
We walked down to the waterfront in the afternoon, which took forever – Queen Street is pretty long – and passed many a Starbucks, occasionally dipping in to various shops we felt like browsing through. On the waterfront we paid a silly amount of money to go to -5, the bar that is…made of ice. You put on this puffy coat and gloves, and go in and get a cocktail. You have 25 minutes. It was pretty cool, get it? Seriously though, it was truly made of ice and had lots of ice sculptures – Ed Hillary, an eagle, a lion – all very awesome stuff. We paid another silly amount of money to have our photos taken within the shroud of ice, which I will have to scan and post here at some stage. It was definitely fun, although it might have been a bit more fun if the gal behind the counter hadn’t been so surly. I realise it was 2.45 in the afternoon and we were her only customers but come on! We are your bread and butter!
It was hotter than ever when we got outside, thanks to the contrast in temperatures. We headed back to the hostel to relax but not before paying a visit to K Road’s most overpriced op shops (admittedly, cheaper than Wellington’s ones) where I heedlessly bought quite a few things – a glo-mesh handbag, a Sass and Bide top (nothing flash though) a shirt dress, and a silk scarf with horses on it.
And you all know what happened next…
I figured I might as well upload another video of Rufus. It would be a shame not to share this talent (which is such a pale word for what he has) with people who weren’t there.
Disclaimer: Don’t hate me for it, but my petulant voice takes up about five seconds of this video – I’m asking Tim to do his cool whistle (he grew up on a farm, and hey, he can whistle really loud.) Also you can hear Tim singing along sometimes. Hee. The lesson here is kids, never say anything you wouldn’t want to have commited to video and put on the internet. (But really, his whistle is pretty impressive.)

Above: This is an excerpt of Rufus singing “California” – isn’t he jaunty on the guitar!

On Tuesday morning we had a bit of time to burn before our flight, so we decided just to wander the streets lazily, with no agenda whatsoever. We went into Smith and Caughey’s, which is (ha!) not as good as Kirkcaldie and Staines. I did, however, spend a good few minutes in their ‘foodie’ section, and bought myself some Savoiardi biscuits for making Tiramisu or something. The lady behind the counter called me “ma’am” about five times, I didn’t know whether to feel grown up or haggard…

Above: I ended up buying two packs because they are rather hard to find and because the more I spend the more reckless I get, it seems.

We had lunch in the food court by Borders, and ended up having enormous slices of pizza with wedges. I told myself it was like when Carrie and her friends on SATC would get similar huge pizza slices. …Afterwards we had one last Air Hockey for the road, before getting our shuttle to the airport. Auckland feels so different to Wellington (not least because it was raining when we got back to the capital), it’s hard to put my finger on what it is exactly.

Right, well I’m going to do my Ruby Gillis best to conquer this cold, before I am back again- as Jilly Cooper would say, I’ve drank so much herbal tea I’m going to turn into a bouquet garni.

A Weekend In The City Part 1: "Can’t Sleep In This City Of Neon And Chrome…"

Never mind the food. That’s right, you heard me. Well, never mind the food for now, anyway… all photos by Tim.

Above: We were THIS close to La Rufus. It was almost unbearably wonderful.


Above: Zing! Went the strings of my heart, let me tell you!

You may have noticed I’ve been a little thin on the ground lately (one of the few times I could use the word thin to describe myself) – or you may not have, judging by the fact that my mother is the only person who has commented on my last post! Well, either way, Tim and I took a mini-break up to Auckland to see the fabulous Rufus Wainwright in concert. We paid the whistlingest of whistle-stop visits to Mum and Dad, before getting on a bus to the Big Smoke. I realise this may sound funny coming from someone based in the city themselves, the capital no less, but Auckland is a lot bigger that Wellington, and, unfortunately, it is where a lot more stuff happens.

If that wasn’t enough – guess who we met (read: forced ourselves sweatily upon) at the gig…

Above: Pascal and Loretta from Outrageous Fortune! Now, you know we feel about this show. I must have plugged it, oh, a squillion times on this very blog. Our entire flat went into a decline when Series 3 ended. Tim and I bought the first two seasons on DVD when we really couldn’t afford it, and then went on to watch the whole lot in one weekend, even though we really should have been doing other things. We even went and logged in to all those online NZ magazine polls so that Robyn Malcolm would have a better chance of winning. That’s right, we are boffins, and so to those of you who haven’t heard of Outrageous Fortune, this was kinda a Big Deal.
We were all, “Should we? Shouldn’t we?” Until we settled on the fact that we’d never be cool anyway, so there was no need to be like all the other people milling round with their shields of ennui. So we went up to them, and said hi, and that we were enormous fans of the show and we were sorry to bother them but would they have a photo with us? Now, the above picture is admittedly pretty awful: Photographer Tim’s face is chopped off, I really hope I don’t look like that in real life, even Siobhan something-or-other and Antonia Prebble (they have names!) look kinda shiny, and on the whole the photo is haplessly bungled. But still: SQUEEEE!!!
I know I tend to gush over things, “exaggerate,” some might say, (although I’m really not exaggerating! I just like a lot of stuff!) and I do use the word ‘ridiculous’ a lot… But Rufus was just bafflingly excellent, ridiculously talented, and completely charming. His voice is staggeringly beautiful. It soars. The concert felt really special, it was just him, a pianny and a guitar. Nothing else. He talked to us between songs in a surprisingly nasal Canadian accent – about how he always loved Kiri Te Kanawa…”but I hear she’s a bitch! We grew up with her music…I loved to think of her practicing Strauss…on the beach…” and performed a haunting song from Brokeback Mountain, hinting at the added significance of this song but breaking the tension afterwards by saying “it was, of course, filmed in New Zealand…just kidding, ha!” And then he put on his guitar with a red-sequinned strap and said he was going to sing a song about America…not the one from the new album that everyone is expecting – “but it’s still negative anyway, so don’t worry! Here we go-” and launched into California, one of my favourite songs of his. One of my favourite songs of anyone, really.

He was supported by – speaking of Outrageous Fortune- Madeleine Sami and her two sisters, who are seriously lucky: as well as being completely gorgeous, having wonderful voices and a knack for writing kicky but bittersweet songs, they got to open for Rufus. Some people… but really, they were great, they didn’t give themselves a name but they were light years better than most of the crap on the radio these days.

Above: This was the view out the window of our room…with a view…Did you know that K Road is seriously noisy? Distractingly so; Tim and I got to our hostel on Sunday afternoon – a Sunday – and at 12.30am there were still voices, cars, music, sirens…it kept us awake and made me realise how serene our little neck of the woods in Wellington is! But still it was kind of exciting, in a Spongebob Squarepants kind of way, to a country gal like me – I’m being kept awake by sirens and yelling…in Auckland…

I’ll write about what else we got up to and what we ate tomorrow, I just couldn’t hold all this in but I didn’t want to subject you to the whole darn thing in one enormous post. As a parting shot though, here is a video that Tim took from last night. Don’t, don’t for goodness’ sake judge Rufus’ voice on the really pretty awful sound-recording capabilites of Tim’s aging camera, he sounded clearer than the clearest bell could ever hope to sound. But isn’t he good on the piano?

PS: I also found the Rent OBC soundtrack at Real Groovy on Queen Street…Result!!

"Up With My Tent!"

…so spake Shakespeare’s Richard III before launching into battle with Richmond, he of the perfectly coiffed hair and charming Welsh accent – at least in the BBC version.

It is also what I would have been saying today had it not been raining intermittently, followed by an icy blast of clattering hailstorms tonight. It is still bucketing down now. We managed to find a brief patch of sun in which to claim a patch of ground at the campsite, in the manner of the Outrageous Fortune Christmas Special – but in this weather I fear for the state of the tents which we left behind as a marker of our territory. Nevermind – being damp and uncomfortable is part of the many joys of camping.

In other news, I spent Boxing Day eating leftovers and reading the charming Anne of Green Gables,wishing resentfully all the while that my eyes were at least half as starry as the titular Anne’s are constantly made out to be. I hope everyone had a fabulous Christmas. As at least a third of my readership spent Christmas in my company, I know I can reply fairly confidently that yes, it was a great day. Actual blogging will ensue shortly, with lots of pictures of the “flesh and wine” that was consumed in enormous proportions.

I am, however, still stinging at the $80 that Pacific Blue charged me in overweight luggage fines…

Slings and Arrows

Just a quick post to say IT’S OVER…We just finished watching the season 3 final of Outrageous Fortune, there was so much drama that I got muscle cramp from being so tensely clenched. Loretta had a bairn and Van delivered it! Judd and Cheryl talked! Munter finally got out of prison in time for his wedding! Gary is Rita’s son! And Wolf is still sinister!! How will we cope till season four starts?

Actual cooking tomorrow, I promise.

Fa La La La La!

The First of December today! Tis officially the season to be jolly now – not October, as many soulless chain department stores would have you believe. This means that our $2 shop mini Christmas tree can be displayed now – and it is, perched aloft on our microwave (which is perched aloft on one of the fridges, incidentally – we have space issues in our kitchen), helpfully absorbing radiation everytime we defrost some mince.

Guess who we saw yesterday?


Above: Becks on the big screen! He was actually on the field in reality too, but LA Galaxy (lined up here during half time to recieve a pounamu ‘trinket’ as the commentator clumsily put it) were on the complete opposite side of the field to us.


Above: Ohyeahtherewassoccertoo. But Beckham!!

Just kidding. I admit freely – well, I do loathe sports – that to me last night’s Phoenix/Adelaide game was a mere precursor to the Beckham game tonight, but in fact I really got into it, and have to say soccer is faaaar more exciting to watch than rugby and more elegant, too. We lost in the end – but it was rather thrilling to watch, and great fun to be part of the record crowd turnout for soccer in New Zealand (around 18,000 – Beckham was probably laughing his head off that this was the biggest crowd we’ve had.) So, am something of a convert to The Beautiful Game – but remain unwavering in my belief that Sport = Bullying.

Anyway, because this is a food blog, and not some kind of psychological diary for how being forced to do sport at school has scarred me for life, (I’m not kidding though, I think it might have…) I’d better get back on topic. Have just picked up my enormous chunk of ham from the butcher, and am going to start cooking all manner of things in advance for tomorrow night. Needless to say, I’m very, very excited!

"Home, Home Again…I Like To Be There When I Can"


Above: Gratuitous shot of Rupert the cat sitting in Dad’s drum kit. Roger, our newest kitty, is far too mercurial to be caught on film. He was named for Roger Waters, who wrote the lyrics for the song that I took the title from.

Tim and I went to my cousin’s 21st in Rotorua the weekend just been, and by the time we got home last night I was too tired to make anything other than spaghetti on toast. It is lovely to be home though (Wellington is home to me, but here in the country with my parents is home, if you know what I mean.) So, no pictures of what we have been eating, which is not to say we didn’t eat well on the weekend – the pub that the party was at provided us, among other things, with the singularly most incredible potato wedges I have ever had in my life.

The morning after we went to my aunty’s fantastic burger bar: Rapscallions, on Fenton Street (opposite the Police Station!) She opened it about two years ago, but this was the first time I have actually been in it, and I was seriously smitten with the place. We didn’t have any burgers because it wasn’t open yet (and thank goodness, as I was far too hungover) but we cooked up some bacon, eggs and hash browns and Charlie showed us their new addition – an enormous shiny espresso machine. Tim had a go making coffee too and noticed that, ahem, they had much nicer milk jugs than Starbucks has.


Above: Outside Rapscallions.


Above: Inside – the counter and the blackboard. Notice the neat handwriting – my aunty is also a teacher.


Above: Charlie making coffees and hot chocolates for everyone.


Above: Mum’s Chai Latte – isn’t it pretty?


Above: Me, having a go at frying the bacon. After my 3 minute stint behind the grill I have newfound respect for Tim’s time spent employed at McDonalds – it gets so hot back there!


Above: My favourite bit, the tables shaped like jigsaw pieces. Apparently you can actually fit them together too!

So, if you are ever in Rotorua, for goodness sake get thee to Rapscallions. Even in my unable-to-eat-anything state the burgers looked incredibly delicious – I would be the sort of annoying customer that would spend fifteen minutes bouncing between options, unable to choose what to eat because it all looks so good- not to mention the fact that you can get coffee of such quality that it will impress a guy from Starbucks.

Finally:


Above: One for the road. Well, I haven’t seen the cats since July, so I think a little gratuity can be allowed.

Quack With Me

Today marks one year since we moved into Casa Hadfield. Having never moved house before (that’s to say, my parents still live in the house I grew up in, and I don’t count coming to Wellington clutching a bag of clothes and a food processor as ‘moving’) I didn’t realise how horrendous it is, especially if you are doing it yourselves, (with the greatfully recieved help of Tim’s dad) while it is pouring with rain, and your awful soon-to-be-ex-landlord is being sinister, not to mention the people at the house you are trying to move into left The World’s Heaviest Beds behind which smash a window while you are dragging them out of the house and you have to pay to take them to the dump, and then get the horse float stuck in a woman’s driveway for literally 3/4 of an hour…

Yes, it is no wonder that Team Hadfield looks back on this day with a shudder. But the reason this day really sucked unequivocally, was this: As we made our first trip of many, ferrying stuff to our new flat, we saw that one of the ducks that used to chill out in our courtyard had been hit by a car, and her partner was standing over her, folorn and helpless. He didn’t move the entire day. Not only was it heartbreakingly sad – they mate for life, you know – but it was also portentious of what kind of day we had ahead.

So, in honour of the ducks, and as a way of marking the year spent here, Tim and I decided to, via Oxfam, buy three ducks which would be given to people in needy countries and, according to the website, can “eat insects and snails, helping farmers protect their fields. Eggs provide extra family nutrition and an income source.” I’m not trying to schill for Oxfam here, or act smug for doing something charitable – but by all means check out the website.
Above: Did not actually take this picture – it’s from Google Images.
Thank you ducks, for eating the bread that I threw out the window, for making our landlord’s precious asphalt your toilet in what we took to be a sign of your defiance to him and allegiance with us, and for the very public sex you so often had that provided us with much hilarity. Gone but not forgotten.

…Baby, One More Time

To paraphrase ‘Seasons of Love’, how do you measure a month in the life of my blog? How about 900 hits! Woohoo! Did not expect to have this many already since my immediate (and I do mean immediate) family are probably my main readers. Thanks to all who have been making those numbers climb – a month has gone so fast, and I’m having heaps of fun with this. Didn’t post tonight because I got distracted by the excellent movie Once Apon A Time In Mexico and now I need to get to bed so…adios for now!