Tag: cooking

Timaru


by KandE

Calm. That’s the word. Sometimes relaxed, but mostly calm. This has been my assigned label for the past several years by casual acquaintances and coworkers. I get it. Sort of. But it just means we’ve never played a board game together, nor engaged in any kind of competitive activity. Rolling dice, dealing cards, cracking a croquet ball, and I’m likely a raging menace. Which is why after 171 recorded games of rummy, Eric is calling for a cessation in game play.

… I get it.

I want to be cool, I do. I’m not proud of the number of times I’ve overturned boards and pieces during family game nights. I’m still embarrassed by that afternoon when I was 14, throwing a miniature golf club manically around hole #12 in town, with my daddio vowing to never bring me back again. I have managed to rein in my bad behavior over the years, but this new rummy obsession has been my un-fucking-doing. Eric is the enemy. I’m demented with my desire to win. I now require deep breaths and closed eyes to restrain my impulses to throw cards and bang fists upon every dramatic loss. And I think what the eff is going on?
.

.

.

For the record: on truly important matters in life, my behaviors are much more mature and optimistic. I’m not usually such a demon, I promise.

-K

2016-02-23_0006^Speaking of undoings, let’s chat about how making mushroom and butternut risotto with Bulgarian sheep’s feta should only be attempted by the bravest of campervan cooks. Nightmare. But a delicious one.

 

Wakefield


by KandE

This morning found me up with the sun shortly after 6 (or so I assume,) traipsing down a rural road, putting on a dance recital for a cluster of big, spotted cows. The Irish river dancing frightened them back from the fence a ways, however they appreciated the ballet, fine connoisseurs they are.

I’m adjusting well to life sans wristwatches, alarm clocks, mirrors, and constricting self consciousness. Our little adventure is finally beginning to find it’s leg, and it’s pirouettes aren’t lookin’ too shabby.

untitled-157

^ Another round of sandwiches. Meh.

untitled-6

^MACARONI AND CHEESE! Yippie! The stove, the stove!

More adventures in cooking:untitled-10
^ Yeeeeah, the mac and cheese money shot. It wasn’t very tasty, but after a long series of cold food & dry goods, it was manna from heaven.

untitled-27

^ Designated dish washer.

untitled-33

^ Our first cup of home brewed coffee. I’ve never tasted worse.

untitled-34

^ Eric mistook the instant coffee in the cupboard for coffee grounds.

untitled-36
^ And then he melted off part of the handle. We have yet to try again. I sit here updating the blog from stolen library wifi, with a double shot latte acquired down the street. 😉

-K

South Island


by KandE

I’m lounging in our new bedroom, stretched out across a surprisingly comfortable double bed, listening to the rain. Eric is 3 ft away (excuse me, approximately 1 meter away) in the kitchen, attempting to christen our small stove. Soon we will be dining on our first hot meal: macaroni and cheese from the box. Complementing our “pasta and flavour mix” we have a fine 2014 sauvignon blanc, grown 30 miles away down Highway 1. (Kilometers. Kilometers. 48 Ks.)

untitled-145untitled-142

And so ends Day 3 with The Beast. It’s remarkable to reflect that we were in Auckland only a few days back, still dreaming of cozy nights parked at the beach. We’re still combatting a to-do list of mundane tasks and renovation projects–dreamy days hiking mountains and ogling sheep are on hold.

Quick wine notes:
– Seifreid’s, your sav blanc is registering at a flimsy 3 on the scale, now that I’ve had my first few sips.
– The wine selection at the small town grocery store we stopped in at was astounding. I was delighted to discover that there were more shiny glass bottles of vino than all the juice, soda, and milk combined. I applaud your priorities, NZ. Drink your fruit. Shop local. Cheers.

untitled-23untitled-35untitled-59untitled-83untitled-91untitled-117
^ The ferry ride south, from Wellington to Picton yesterday.

-K