N is for New Zealand

N is for New Zealand

Another week, another country-themed dinner – what a life! This week, it’s time to put the Ns under the microscope and see what culinary delights they have to offer. Though not quite as large a club as its alphabetical predecessor, N has a few countries of personal interest and I’d been um-ing and ahh-ing about what to do for some time before the universe got involved and made the decision for me. Looking at the Ns, stroking my proverbial beard and scratching my none-proverbial bonce, my immediate choice was the Netherlands. For those who are not blessed with any knowledge of the unadulterated joy that is the Dutch language, you have my sympathy. Dutch is a masterclass in impossible diphthongs, fervent use of diminutives and the power of phlegm…hmm, maybe that actually doesn’t sound soooo great. Whatever. Whether or not you count the aforementioned traits as positive doesn’t matter – any language in which the sentence ‘helaas de sinaasappelsap is op’ (say it really fast without taking a breath) is an actual legitimate sentence should be worthy of all our admiration.

But alas, the Netherlands had to take a back seat because N is all about New Zealand. This selection requires a little background info, so settle in – it’s about to get personal. So, way back when, my matriarchal great aunt made a decision. And that decision was to jump on a boat and sail to New Zealand to have a little peek at what our Commonwealth pals had going on over there on the other side of the world. Turns out, she found it not too shabby at all and settled down there for the long haul, eventually adding a whole antipodean branch to our family tree. Although we’d met said great aunt a couple of times, the rest of the New Zealand lot were really just a list of names to my sister and I for many years. That is until we finally took a month-long jolly over there in 2010. Having had next to no contact to all our rellies for the best part of 20 years, we suddenly found ourselves tentatively sending out emails to them all: “Hi, you don’t really know us, but we’re your grandma’s daughter’s cousin’s kids…” – or something to that effect. And sure enough, we were invited to call in on each and every one of them.

Ingredients for the big burger

The trip was, of course, spectacular. As anyone who has seen Lord of the Rings knows, New Zealand is jaw-droppingly beautiful. I’ve had the incredible fortune of seeing quite a few countries in my life so far, and there is no question that New Zealand takes home the medal for aesthetics. However, for us, the trip was so much more than just driving around this awesome country and singing the LOTR theme music ALL THE TIME – it was a bit of a turning point in our side of the family’s relationship with the self-designated ‘Kiwi cousins’. A good 7 years of frequent contact and various meet-ups here and there culminated in a very strong Kiwi cousin contingent at my sister’s wedding. That may not sound like a big deal – they’re family, it’s pretty standard for family to go to other family weddings, right? Wrong! Half of these guys flew from THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD to be there. Two of the younger members of the contingent hadn’t seen us in seven flippin’ years, and even then we only spent a very brief time with them (I must also point out that these two, Franta and Nick, well and truly tore up the dancefloor – hats off, lads). So, given this act of overwhelming spirit and generosity, I felt like I owed it to the KCs to cook a Kiwi classic. And here we are!

You still there? Yes? You’re a hero – well done for getting through that bit of potted family history. ANYWAY let’s get down to business. Contrary to not-at-all popular belief, New Zealanders don’t eat kiwis (the bird, at least). They’re also not tarnished with the same brush of eating nothing but barbecued shrimp all year round, like their Australian neighbours. In fact, on the world stage, New Zealand cuisine has kept fairly quiet. Can you name a traditional Kiwi dish? Coffee, maybe? While not strictly a dish, there’s been a buzz around New Zealand coffee for some time: it’s even credited with the invention of now hipster-favourite, the flat white. Not only that, but this little country has the most coffee roasters per capita in the world – take that, fact fans! Heck, NZ coffee has become so in demand that even my small, rather non-descript hometown in Germany now has a Kiwi café (Kiwi Kaffeehaus, which is an absolute SMASH – take note, anyone visiting Braunschweig). It’s fair to say that coffee is a big deal to that lot down under, but I ain’t no barista, so coffee was out of the question.

Ingredients in the flesh

On our trip around the islands, two things became very clear to my big sis and I with regards to the grub there: first, they have got cafés LOCKED DOWN (see above) and second, the seafood is out of this world. The British Isles may be inextricably linked to fish and chips – and rightly so, it’s a national institution – but boy, do those Kiwis give them a run for their money. With such a long coastline and, well, bloody loads of water surrounding the place, it’s no wonder that New Zealanders can serve up some of the freshest, meatiest seafood on the planet. The mussels, oh man, the mussels! But if there’s one dish that is synonymous with water-dwelling beasties in NZ, it’s whitebait fritters. While whitebait aren’t strictly from the sea, they sure as hell are a popular ‘seafood’ snack. I didn’t actually get my mitts on any while we were there, but whitebait fritters are nothing more, nothing less than what they proclaim to be: a pancake-type batter with some fresh little whitebait in and fried. Voila – simplicity strikes again!

The majesty from afar

While much of modern New Zealand cuisine has been greatly influenced by both European and Pacific Rim ingredients and methods, Maori culture has numerous dishes that you won’t find in your average neighbourhood joint in the UK, Germany or Japan. In traditional Maori religion, food was noa, which means non-sacred and as such, had to be kept separate from anything tapu (sacred) lest it become tarnished. Such was the extent of this rule of separation that high chiefs (who are tapu) often had to be fed by non-tapu­ people, minimising the risk of them touching the non-sacred grub. The main focal point of Maori cooking is hāngi, a term which describes the method of cooking food in a pit oven using heated rocks. If your Maori buddy has something to celebrate, chances are he’ll ‘lay a hāngi’, i.e. dig a whopping great hole, get a big ol’ fire going to heat the stones in the bottom and place baskets of food over the stones to cook for several hours, before lifting it all out and going to town on it. My nostalgia for my time in the scouts had me dreaming of going all out and doing a hāngi, but I don’t think the Braunschweig office of public order (yes, that is a thing – God forbid you mow your lawn on a Sunday, ‘cos they’ll be after you) would be too keen if I just started digging in the park. Sadly.

The majesty close up

Upon asking the KCs about typical New Zealand grub, there was one thing they more or less all mentioned: the Kiwi burger. Now, I don’t eat burgers all that often but when I do, I’m very much in my happy place, especially if my hands and face are COVERED in sauce and grease at the end – the messier, the better (and my parents wonder why they’ve not married me off yet). For all my scouring the internet, I couldn’t actually put my finger on where the Kiwi burger came from, or rather who came up with the frankly genius idea. All I know is that McDonalds caught on to it and spread the love across the islands. Cheers, Ronald! The Kiwi burger starts off pretty normal: there’s a bun, there’s a meat patty, there’s a nod to vitamins in the form of some lettuce leaves. So far, so normal. But wait wait wait. How about a couple of extras? Liiiiiike a fried egg, for example? Or some sliced beetroot? OR BOTH?!? Yes friends, it seems the inventor of the Kiwi burger had all the smarts, ‘cos she/he came up with the greatest burger toppings in history, not even to be eclipsed by bacon and cheese. So in my little kitchen, 1000s of miles away from the shores of New Zealand, I gathered together the ingredients, threw together some patties and eventually basked in the glow of oozing egg yolk, sweet and earthy beetroot, and juicy beef. Hallelujah.

I know I’d normally give a slightly more detailed account of the actual cooking process, but there’s not much to say about making burgers. The joy of this was very much in the eating, not in the prep, as it should be with this kind of food. I implore you, next time you make a burger, make it a Kiwi one – you won’t regret it. Kiwi cousins, you guys smashed it out of the park!