Catering For Vegetarians

I had to pay a visit to Oamaru last night as two of my favourite musicians were playing the Penguin Club. They sang and entertained with wry stories about spending days on the road until about eleven. As I had had to make a quick exit from Dunedin and even then arrived at the Penguin Club after the thing had started, I'd not had a chance to eat. Surprisingly, Oamaru does not have many options for food at 11:00 on a Tuesday night - no McDonalds, no Subway. I was thinking it would have to be an awful service station pie, but was surprised to find a fish and chip shop might just be open. The street sign had been taken in, but there was still a sign on the door saying open. I stopped outside - there was a woman wiping the door, but she paused in her activity when she saw me watching her, trying to decide if she was just doing the last cleaning up before going home, or was in fact open for business.

I took up the only way of finding out for sure - I went in. While she was cooking my fish and chips, I had some time to investigate the menu. Unlike most fish and chip shops I have been in, and in fact unlike any fish and chip shop of this particular style, which had a range of western and asian foods on offer, there was a Vegetarian Menu. Taking pride of place at the top of the menu? Cinnamon donuts. Then jam donuts. Something called a "jam rap" was last - the only plausible vegetarian dinner item was a chopsuey fritter (sounds worse than a service station pie, to be honest).

But my fish and chips from JRS Diner were better than expected. As were the musicians at the Penguin Club. Of course, I expected a lot from Victoria Girling-Butcher and was not disappointed (except for missing half her songs) - she did a bunch of Lucid3 songs, along with what seemed to be a couple of new solo ones. But my expectations of Age Pryor were not high - I'd only seen glimpses of his performances in the past and been left underwhelmed, so last night's show was a revelation. I'd only ever seen Paul McLaney as part of a bigger lineup, never doing the solo singer-songwriter thing. He still strikes me as the most unlikely looking musician - I was watching him closely last night as he did his thing, and decided that he looks like a pastry chef, mainly because I have no real pre-conceptions as to what one looks like. He sings fantastically, however, and ain't bad on the guitar either. The best song of all, however, was when they all joined in together at the end and sang Dylan's I Shall Be Released.

Where Steak is 50 Cents a Gram

I am pretty sure that New Zealand is not flooded with places that sell steak at 50 cents a gram, even more sure that there are very few places which would require one to purchase at least 200 grams of said steak. So, I must naturally be talking about Auckland - thanks to the new bargain way to buy random flights on Air New Zealand, I had a four day weekend there last week, ex Queenstown. One of my key plans was to visit the Jervois Steak House, after reading a review in Cuisine. I've been wanting a steakhouse experience ever since I went to Canada a couple of years ago, and the desire has recently been rekindled by an article in the NY Times about them. Technically, I did go to a steakhouse in Niagara Falls, but it was a Dinseyfied, McDonaldised version.

I don't think they quite got the aesthetic right with the Jervois - it is a green and white old-Ponsonby style villa still comprised of several small rooms, white table cloths and sharply dressed wait staff, looking for all the world like a fine dining establishment. But their menu is predominantly steak in its various cuts - I couldn't quite justify the $100 Wagyu, so went for a large Prime Rib (roast for 10 hours at 60 degrees) with a candied Kumera side while my friend branched out and had elk. She liked it on the basis that it didn't taste of much! But it wasn't until we were at the Himalaya Nepalese Restaurant in Parnell the next night that I could formulate my opinion about the Jervois Steak House - it was very nice, the service was very good (even if they did have a habit of materialising behind me without my noticing) but ultimately it was just steak, nicer than many I have eaten sure, but not a transcendant experience by any means.

In fact, one of my best eating experiences in Auckland was also my cheapest - we popped into Dida's cafe because we were a bit early for our steak reservation, and they had this wonderful babycake (a tiny sponge) with the most vividly flavoured passionfruit icing. But it was nice to have a companion who enjoys going to good places and spending a little money on food (down here, I tend to go to the budget food places) and so I took full advantage of it, making another visit to Wagamama for their take on modern asian food and to the Sunshine Chinese Restaurant for Yum Char as well as the Himalaya for dinner on the Sunday night. There I was re-acquainted with the delicious puffed rice used in Nepalese cooking. My main wasn't so hot - my friend had already ordered the dish I'd had my heart set on (Sekuwa - a chargrilled meat dish) and the only other one to catch my eye had been a bean and potato concoction. The waiter was very good - he told me it contained gundruk (basically a dried and fermented saag, used by the Nepalese to ensure a green vegetable in the winter) which people tended to love or hate. Of course, I was neutral in my reaction - I wouldn't not eat it again, but I wouldn't go out of my way to have more of it - it introduced a very earthy flavour to what was essentially soup.

New Food

Well before I left on my trip, there were signs of an interesting food development in the Meridian Food Court in Dunedin. Where the old Flames had been, there was a blank wall, on which someone had affixed a sign with nice clean colours and font saying "Coming Soon - Lemongrass Malaysian and Thai cuisine". Of course, this was of great interest to me, as it picked up two of my favourite cuisines. And being in a food court didn't mean it would be bad. So, I made arrangements for some friends and I to have some sort of farewell lunch there before I went on holiday. It was not open in time - which I thought augured well in terms of the care being taken to get things right.

Returning home in January, it appeared that no progress had been made. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed the light in the drinks fridge was on, which helped me think the project had not been abandoned. Last week, there were drinks in the fridge: a sure sign of imminent opening.

Last night, it was open. There was a significant queue of people waiting to be served, but that was true of all places in the food court. I was a little dismayed to see that there were no "cook while you wait" dishes; more so to see it was a smorgasbord. Nonetheless, I piled my plate high so that I could try everything. The soup was inedible - a thick milky white tastelessness in which some mushroom floated. Being chicken soup, I suppose there was some chicken in the depths. The food itself was decidedly average by food court standards and poor by any other standard: even the chinese place is better (thanks in part to being run by the people who used to provide my favourite dish in Dunedin, chilli beef and beans).

A much better thing to happen foodwise is the running of the Circadian Rhythm kitchen by the good folk who used to have the Indian vegetarian restaurant. That was always a bit too pricey for every day eating, but when the price is $8.50 for all you can eat (and they really mean that - I was restrained from leaving by an insistence on the part of the staff that I go back for more) it is a bargain. And right next door is Saigon, Dunedin's first Vietnamese cafe. Things are looking up.

Russians Take Christchurch

Well, a small part of it anyway. Last Friday night I was dropped off at the intercity depot: as I walked around to the YHA, I noticed a new cafe which, highly important given my need to depart at a ridiculous time on Saturday morning, would be open at 7 a.m. Arriving back there bleary eyed, I was a bit confused to see that the sign said something about Russian cuisine - sure enough, the Red Square cafe on Worcester Street is run by some charming Russians and features Russian food on its menu. Not for breakfast, alas. I had to make do with pancakes, very thin pancakes rolled up like cigars. The place was very nice looking - an exposed brick wall down one side, a white painted wall down another, with a few black and white photos (of ultrasounds, my second examination revealed!) and paintings and decked out with smart black tables and red chairs. My disappointments were that (a) the butter and honey were served in plastic sachets and (b) the coffee was weak - but on my return visit, that had been remedied. I still have not had a chance to try the Russian food, but I will - thanks to the marvels of Grabaseat, I have a four day weekend in Christchurch coming up.

But Christchurch was not my destination last weekend. Oh no, I was on my way to Wellington to see Bill Callahan (Smog) and Joanna Newsom. When I'd heard she was coming to New Zealand, I didn't really think much of it - I'd heard snippets from her first album and dismissed her as a gimmick. But a friend started raving about her second album Ys to the point that I procured a copy for myself. Then I heard that Callahan was coming, and I was in: I've been listening to Smog for a decade, ever since I came across Lets Move to the Country in a Melbourne record store. So glad: it was an amazing night.

When I arrived at the San Francisco Bath House (still Indigo to me), the place was packed, but I struck it lucky. I had gone past the front of the stage to use the facilities; as I came back, those sitting on the floor were being asked to stand. I seized my chance and found myself leaning against the crowd barrier, right in front of the chair which was soon occupied by Bill Callahan. I was really surprised by how young he is: when I first heard him, I thought he was old (i.e. Johnny Cash old) but he must have been in his twenties (Wikipedia says he was born in the late 1960's). He has a very subdued stage presence - I think he did thank us after each song, and at one point commented on how quiet we were, despite it being dark so the "please don't talk" signs could not be seen - but puts a lot of effort into getting his songs right (at least if the grimacing he does as he sings is a signifier of that, he does). He started with "Lets Move to the Country" and "River Guard" before giving up a couple of new songs off his forthcoming album - one featuring a Sycamore tree. There were others to follow - they're all just an enjoyable blur now.

As for Joanna Newsom, her stage presence was the antithesis of her partner's: she has an elfin presence, plenty of chatter, the occasional funny story and what appears to be a genuine gratitude that we enjoy her music. It took me a little while, maybe three songs in, before I noticed how hard doing what she does must be. Playing the harp doesn't look like an easy thing to do, particularly when you're as intricate and precise player as she is. And her songs - they're ten minute plus torrents of words, hard enough to just keep up with when listening, and here she was , singing them as she played the harp. An amazing musician: my summary dismissal of her earlier CD was churlish. I still haven't heard The Milk Eyed Mender, but most of the songs she played came from Ys, together with a cover of a Scottish folk song. She has also formed some sort of group with some other traditional musicians, and played a new song they have worked up in their honour.
I respected their wishes for no photography, but once the show was over, I had to take a photo of this harp, taken from where I had been standing for the entire gig. Afterwards, I went into Midnight Espresso for a coffee: I was followed in by none other than Joanna and Bill. I didn't jump up and worship them, although I contemplated it: someone from the next table did and while Joanna was all sweet and did a wee genuflection of thanks, Bill just stood there and looked at the menu. My friend who went backstage to see them at their Lyttleton gig reported a very similar experience.