Monday, 30 April 2018

Our three day holiday to the Coromandel Peninsula

The Coromandel Peninsula lies to the east of Auckland and is about 80 kilometers 'tall.' Between Auckland and the Coromandel lies the Hauraki Gulf in the north and the Firth of Thames in the south. Take a look.




Since the boys are off from school for two weeks between terms, Allie thought a quick three-day holiday might be fun. This time of year is thought of here as the time for the last hurrahs of the summer season. Before long, both the temperatures and plenty of rain will be falling and holidays will be put on hold until spring returns about October. As it turned out, the weather was almost perfect for us. We were able to maximize our time out of doors. I took almost 500 pictures. Thank goodness I don't have to buy film anymore.  

Allie planned to drive the first day to Thames, then up to Coromandel Town, and finally to Whitianga (The Maori -Wh- sounds like our -f-),  where we would stay. We would take our time as she drove and do a bit of sight-seeing. In 1867, gold was discovered in the area and Thames became a boom-town. We'd have to drive around town a little and look at 'neat old buildings'. Then, we'd be following the highway up the inside edge of the peninsula so we'd be able to admire the coastline. The post for the first day of our journey will end when we get to the house that Allie rented for us in Whitianga. 

Since my intention continues to be to show you what I (we) see here in Aotearoa, I'd like to invite you to come along on our holiday. There will probably be a number of installments. 

The assay house must have been an important place in a gold mining boom town. This is now a tea-house. 


Almost sounds like our wild west doesn't it? A saloon downstairs and the Star and Garter Hotel upstairs. 


The Firth of Thames, just outside Thames. 


Jeanne is admiring the zillions of shells. 


We hug the coastline for quite a ways.


And then begin climbing into the hills a bit. That is looking west across the Firth.

 Climbing higher yet...



The sun greens up the landscape below us. 


We are now descending to a famous (in NZ anyway) area. This is one of the places where the Coromandel oysters and green-lipped mussels come from. 


Although we had had a bite in Thames, we just HAD to sample a few delacacies here. 


A display of the floats and ropes that provide an anchor for the growing shellfish. 


 All hands explored the family-friendly outdoor dining areas. Not surprisingly, a nautical theme predominated. 
 Allie chose some very fresh oysters on the half shell.



 A little hot sauce was added.



 This is a paua (abalone) fritter.



 To the left of the fries is the the flounder-on-a-spear that I wanted to sample. The boys tried some, and enjoyed the fries of course, but passed on the 'weird stuff.'
The seagulls were very polite. Ever watchful, and clearly hopeful, they kept their distance.  



 We've left the coast now and are crossing through the
Coromandel Range.  The forests ahead are single-species I noticed. I did some research before putting up this photo and I believe they're radiata pine. 



Here we are. That's our holiday home, a short block from Buffalo Beach on Mercury Street. 

 Amiri approaches the deck and sees the name, Paradise, displayed on the wall. It really did turn out to be everything we hoped for and more. 



'A job well done.' Allie is pleased. Not only is the house she found and rented Way better than two hotel rooms would have been, it is much cheaper besides. Three bedrooms, two baths, full kitchen, dining room, lounge, washing machine, outdoor shower (for de-salting), clothes line, and two decks make up this dream spot. 


 Amiri immediately settled in with a book he found in a well-filled bookcase. Arram's stuffed friend 'Terry' lies on the other bed. 


 That evening, we'd turn on the tube for a while.


Our hosts even dropped off a new tank of propane in case we wanted to grill. 
This is a very comfortable place. Too bad we only have three nights...  djf

Thursday, 26 April 2018

Storms can come up so quickly...

I was coming down the stairs from our bedroom recently and noticed that clouds were flying over the Waitakere Range, in a mad rush to surprise, and hopefully, to drench us.

Today's post is a short one documenting this phenomenon. 



My weather-watcher bird friend here seems to be giving out the warning 


Here is another billowing mass of moisture that appeared suddenly as I walked along Great North Road. 


Looking straight up at the front blotting out the sun as it rapidly sweeps by.  


There goes the sun. It fought valiently for a few moments but the clouds overcame it.  




And here they come from the east. I've been walking down Railside Avenue in Henderson and this just appeared and is growing by the minute...
Is it just a storm, or is there something more sinister creating that bank of rapidly moving clouds? Something like this...

(the scene I wanted starts at about 56 seconds...)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04ptQbThn_c

You never know....   


Actually, a storm recently gave us a bit of trouble. Here are a few pictures of some of the damage.



 A casuality of the storm uprooted in our backyard. 



This is our tea tree awaiting pickup by anyone wanting the firewood. It didn't last long. 


 We almost lost the tramp over the fence.


One of our concrete roof tiles missing.

Down the block


Across the street. 

Well, at least we didn't have to put up with hostle Aliens besides...     -djf





Saturday, 21 April 2018

An optimist is a man who plants two acorns and buys a hammock. Jean de Lattre de Tassigny

And I think an optimist is a man who looks at a thousand acorns in the grass beneath an oak tree and thinks of coffee, and bread and cookies and scones. I think I certainly qualify. 

I have always liked to explore wild foods and I started to look into the possibility of eating acorns last year. This year, I ramped up my testing and am pleased to report that I've learned a lot. And I have a couple of bags of high quality acorn meal or 'flour,' to prove it. 

There were lots of articles on the web about using acorns. I found first of all that I had English white oak acorns at my disposal. They are huge, which means that my yield ratio should be good. But they, like all acorns, have tannins within that make the taste of a raw acorn bitter and may even cause stomach upsets, in humans, if eaten in quantity.  

The big question then was how to get rid of that tannin? Fortunately, it is water soluble. Last year, I laboriously sliced open scores of acorns, removed the nut, and carefully scraped the skins off each one. I read that the skins have a higher percentage of the tannin than the flesh. I then chopped each one up into pea-sized pieces and began the process of soaking them. I changed the water morning and night. It was time consuming. It took weeks before they tasted free of tannins. As a last step I ground them in a blender to a finer texture and called it good enough. I had enough 'flour' for a batch of 12 scones. Interesting, but too much work and time. I knew I could do better.  


One of the trees that provide the bounty.



Beauties, huh? 

This year, when they started to fall, I started again to plan, read and think about my project. 

I did a small batch with the old fashioned 'slice and peel and scrape the skins method. I had refined my technique and got pretty good at it. But it was still so slow...and after that, the business of soaking chunks of acorn in water is a Very slow way of leaching out the tannins.  There had to be a better way. I discovered that Jeanne's Magic Bullet smoothie mixer ground raw nuts efficiently to a very fine consistency. I then soaked this fine meal in water and each morning and evening would strain the meal and water mixture through a fine cloth. I discovered that the meal tasted free of tannins with only 5 changes of water. Eureka! Now, to streamline production. 

I had a brain storm at that point. What if I were to freeze the acorns before I did anything else to them? Would it allow me to open them more easily and remove the nutmeats? And would it allow me to separate the skins more efficiently? 

I tried it and found that it did. I hit upon a method that I think is as good as I am going to get, given the fact that I want to invest no money whatsoever in equipment. I experimented with both a knife and a hammer to open the shell. The hammer won.  This is the first part of my method. 
  • Freeze acorns. Thaw them.
  • Lay out equipment: large cutting board, hammer, bowls for shells and nutmeats
  • Smack each acorn so it splits.  
  • Cover the split nuts with water for a couple of hours. It further softens them. 
  • Pry the nutmeats out of the shells. A little more pounding on the large pieces of acorn to crush them will allow the Magic Bullet to grind them as quickly as possible. 
  • Rinse the pieces with a couple changes of water and 'scrub' handfuls of the pieces between your palms to loosen more of the skins. Each time I do that, more of the skins are poured off with the water. 
Next, I grind the nuts and some water in small batches in the smoothie maker. I get a very fine grind. It looks almost like light-coloured mud while it's still wet. I have some very nice cloth squares that do a good job of straining the water out. And I found by experimentation that I do not have to wait for hours between each soaking and straining. I now do five changes of water, one after another and all the tannins disappear. The color of the water removed changes from yellowish brown to almost clear during the process.  

I have now done several batches and disagree with some of the articles I read on-line that cautioned that great care must be taken to remove all the nutmeat skins. When I grind the nuts, the skins are also reduced to a very small size. Then, when I soak the meal, I notice the tiny flecs of skins floating to the surface of the water covering the meal. Each time I pour off the excess water containing the tannins, I pour away more of the skins as well. I'm sure that I have not removed all the skins after 5 rinsings of the meal, but I've removed a large percentage, and I think, that, ground as finely as they are, the remaining skins give up whatever tannins they hold, every bit as easily as does the nutty portion.  Jeanne acts as my assistant taster and together we insure no bitterness remains in the finished product.  

Finally, I use a glass cake pan to dry the meal. I have found that the oven works best to dry it. I can do it in the sun, but when I leave it unprotected on the deck, birds start to move in, hoping to steal it from me. I store undried batches of the meal in baggies in the refrigerator until Jeanne uses the oven.  The residual heat from the day's roast, cake, or bread is usually enough to dry a batch like the one you see in the picture below. I stir it several times. The meal becomes browner as it dries. 




My goal this year was to produce enough flour to let me experiment with lots of recipes that I've found on line. I have frozen a large bag of my flour so that it'll stay fresh and so that I don't have to get into a binge of cooking and eating acorn products. And I've tried a few things already. Here's the run-down. 

My first experiment was making acorn coffee. I used a frying pan and very carefully stirred it while watching it slowly change colour to almost black. It was not burnt but did closely resemble coffee in colour. 

I used a metal tea-infuser to hold a portion of my 'coffee.' I let it steep in almost boiling water for about 5 minutes. The taste, not surprisingly, wasn't coffee-like at all. I thought it drinkable, but barely; Jeanne thought that a tea made from burnt toast crumbs would have been more palatable. I don't think we'll be making any more... 

My next experiment was acorn flatbread. It was made with a 2 to 1 ratio of white flour to acorn flour although the color might lead you to believe it was closer to 1:1. I fried this batch on the griddle portion of my gas grill and they turned out a little too dry. My next batch I did in a frying pan so that I could control the heat more accurately. They were actually Good. I also used a seasoned salt in the recipe rather than plain table salt. 


In my third batch of flatbread, I used table salt and Jeanne said that she preferred this over the seasoned salt type. I like them both.

Acorn cookies came next. Unfortunately, I misread the recipe and put in way too much butter. My cookies tasted just fine, but were almost as flat as the flat bread, and too greasy. I still count them as a success. 

Next, I tried candied acorns, a recipe I found on Youtube. I used my ground meal instead of the acorn pieces the recipe called for and it worked just fine. My version looked like beef jerky but was nutty, and tasted of cinnamon and brown sugar. 

Then came acorn porridge. One half cup acorn meal, one cup of water, a pinch of salt and 15 minutes on a slow boil, stirring constantly. It did thicken up like porridge should. The result though, was pretty much what I had been expecting. Probably ranked as one of the most boring foods on earth. I put some apple syrup on it, which helped a little. Now it tasted like one of the most boring foods on earth with apple syrup on it. 

I learned two things from this one. I was pleased to find that I tasted no bitterness whatsoever, in my porridge, which proves how effectively I had removed the tannins. And I suffered no unpleasant effects from eating it all. It may have been boring, but it was filling and satisfying in a weird way. If I had been eating this stuff since childhood, I can even imagine it being a comfort food. Maybe. It certainly proves that this very simple food could sustain a person. (I'll have more to say about this in my follow-up post about acorns.)  

I intend to continue my experimentation but have taken a break from the kitchen lately. 

I have about 350 acorns still stored in a cloth sack. I want to see how long I can store them and how they will age. I cut 5 of them open about every two weeks and inspect the nut. So far, they show no signs of deterioration. 

Look at this next picture. This is an area, not too much larger than a square foot, that lies beneath one of the trees I pick from. I had picked this area clean a few weeks ago. There are thousands of square feet beneath this tree. What a huge volume of flour I could make if I harvested all the acorns I could. And I know the locations of many more trees. Universal Drive has 10 trees I know about and may have more beyond my knowledge. Summerland school has several. There is a big one behind the fish market we regularly shop at. 

 I picked up these two from beneath the tree just today. They are the largest I've found. 


 There are also many pin oaks in the area. They produce a nut as well, but it's tiny compared to the English White Oak. 
I peeled one of these little ones today and ate it. It has a texture that is very like a hazel nut, which I liked, but the taste told me it had a higher concentration of tannin than the English White.  I'm sure I could leach away the bitterness  but the labor involved for the return wouldn't be worth it. At least, not as long as I had the giants of the acorn world available. 

I've really enjoyed learning what I have about the lowly acorn. Our society has moved beyond needing it for nourishment, but I am pleased to know that it could be a great source, if we wanted it badly enough. It's just one of so many edible treasures out there. Actually, I think it is one of the best. I've tried many wild foods, but many have such a high fibre content, that eating them in any quantity would cause digestive troubles. Not so with the acorn. 

I'll certanly try some more recipes and do a follow up some time, both on how we like what I cook and also on how my big sacks of stored acorns ages. I have separated 50 of them and am experimenting with drying them in the shell. I hope that I'll be able to process most of both batches in a few months and replenish my store of meal. Stay tuned.       -djf






Sunday, 15 April 2018

"Cold-hearted orb that rules the night, removes the colours from our sight. Red is grey and yellow white. But we decide which is right, and which is an illusion." Songwriter: Graham Edge, The Moody Blues, Album: Days of Future Passed

Jeanne has long been a fan of Nasa's Astronomy Picture of the Day. (link at the end of the post) I like it too. If you were to take a look at the shot of the moon, presented on March 1, 2018 you'd be amazed. It is stunning. Nasa provides the best pictures of our universe that it's currently possible to take. 

Why then, should I take my own pictures of the moon and especially, why should I show them to all of you, when they fall so short of what is available out there? I've thought about that. 

After one of the first nights when I was out taking pictures, I commented that it was hard to hold my camera still and focused on the moon at 96 power. Jeanne suggested that what I needed was a tripod. I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She would probably present me with one before long. No, I said. I didn't want a tripod. My camera's limitations would still prevent me from getting really good pictures. If I wanted better, I'd have to move up to a really good camera, and then I'd need one of those tracking motors that allow your camera to follow the moon. Then I'd need to get out off our deck at just above sea level and up as high as I could get. There's a place in the Waitakeres that is about 1,600 feet higher than we are. And so on, and so on. No, I could throw a ton of money and effort at the project, and still not be able to match what Nasa can do. 

It's similar to the problem my friend Larry and I ran into many years ago when we joined the Escanaba Canoe Club. When we arrived at the river for our first meeting and outing, we marveled at the equipment we saw other members take off their trucks. These were high end racing canoes. We learned that the club took part in lots of races during the summer months. There were several levels of competition, each supposedly meant for people of higher and higher ability. Unfortunately, in order to have any hope of being competitive in these higher levels, very sleek, very light, and very expensive canoes were needed. 

We had no intention of trying to 'keep up with the Joneses,' as the saying goes. Larry had an aluminum 17 foot canoe that he had painted with camo colors and used for duck hunting.  It was better than my wide-bodied 14 footer. It would have to do. We decided to enter all the novice class races we could that year and do our best. 

We won 1st place in most of the races we competed in that summer. It was a great deal of fun. Our racing careers culminated in an eight mile race down the Escanaba. About a mile into the race, there is a series of rapids that stretch diagonally across the river. There is only one spot where a canoe can hope to shoot through without overturning. We had practiced shooting through it a number of times before the race. On the day of the race, we were neck and neck with another team and both tried to fit through the 'slot' at the same time. A split second later Larry and I found ourselves tumbling underwater, being carried by the current into the shallows at the bend in the river just downstream from the rapids, and out of the race. We came limping out, dragging the canoe. One of my knees was bleeding, much to the delight of a little boy who was watching the race with his mom. But we were in high spirits. 

That was our last race. Neither of us felt any inclination to buy an elite racing canoe. We had been happy doing our best with what we had. And we did very well for a couple of middle aged guys in a duck boat. 

So that's why I offer the pictures that I do. Most of them were taken on nights that offered  less than perfect conditions. New Zealand is 'the land of the long white cloud' after all. I took many of these through holes between the clouds. Definition suffered with all that moisture in the way. Even when I had a night of clear skies, the craters in the resultant shots are not as well defined as I would like them to be. I could I suppose, make this a year-long project and for each phase of the moon, wait for a completely clear night. But no, I've been at this now for a couple of months and that's long enough. 

Still, I'm rather pleased with these. I'm happy that I was able to get the shots I did with my inexpensive Canon. I've never really noticed the moon but before this, but then, I've never been able to see it quite so intimately. 

I stayed up late to take some of these, but most of them I think, were taken after I looked out our bedroom window during the night and discovered that I could actually see the moon. I'd grab the camera and dash (well, sort of) downstairs and out on to the deck. Then, I'd start shooting as the wind flapped my pajamas around me. I'd usually take about 40 pictures and find that I had the whole moon showing in about 6 of them. The other shots would be of parts of the moon. (Good thing I was much steadier when shooting deer) From the few 'good ones,' I'd then choose the one with the sharpest definiton and add it to the post.

























Taken about 1:50 a.m. 3/6/18 


Taken at 6:30 a.m. 3/6/18












It rained last night. Just before dawn however, the moon became visible. A high layer of clouds prevented me from getting a clearer picture though and as you can see by the background color, the sun was coming up...I do like how you can just barely see the outline of the entire moon on this one. This was taken on Pi Day, 3-14
The next morning was only marginally better. A high wispy layer of clouds caused me grief. 


He may not be completely in focus, but at least he's smiling.    -djf

Just in case you're interested:    https://apod.nasa.gov/apod/archivepix.html

Is the pie pan half-empty or half-full?
Waning or waxing?