Both our daughters left home this week - Hannah returning to Auckland for her second year of study, and Courteney going to Waikato where she will study and train. She is happily ensconced in Bryant Hall I'm happy to now report, having left behind a slightly apprehensive little girl on Wed. The subsequent texts indicate that she found her feet pretty quickly!

We opened the restaurant in 86, a few short months after getting married, and it was our stated intention back then not to have children until we were debt free. Fortunetly  nature intervened, becos if we'd have waited for that miraculous state of affairs to have come about, then we would have missed out on the last, pretty amazing 20 years. Hannah was born in 89, and Courteney in 91 - and in a funny kind of way, even though the balancing act back then between family and a business with tight financial constraints was pretty fraught, I think the children have helped the longevity of the business. If we hadn't had kids we would possibly have been too intense with the restaurant and burnt out, whereas the girls have given our life a significant otherness, which has created its share of stresses and strains at times, but which over all we feel significantly blessed to have had. They are inordinately special to us both.

In the early days Rick and I were it. We had staff but simply couldn't afford to pay for too many hours, so we ( and my parents who were our business partners back then), did the bulk of the work, as you do. And where we were, our daughters came too - Hannah became adept at entertaining herself as her father prepped, all day. I've told before the story of chocolate bread and butter puddings, individually made, that ended up tasting of garlic to our mystification, until we remembered our daughter had been sitting on the bench, tantilising close to a pile of peeled garlic cloves...

When Courteney came along we made the call to stop lunches at the restaurant ( we used to do 5 a week), a decision made easy by the fact they weren't busy back in the early 90's, and our trials with day childcare had made me miserable. We wanted to be home with the girls and were aware that we were incredibly lucky to be in the position where we could make the call to do that.

For years we had Wendy, who with her daughter Freya would come and look after the girls - feed them, bath them and put them to bed, while we came into work in the evening. There had been others but Wendy  was our longest and most wonderful and when she left we decided we just didn't have the stomach to go thru the whole process of trying to find the perfect person again, so instead we built a tiny room to the rear of the restaurant with bunks in it, and from then on our daughters came with us in the evening. Usually they'd pop next door to see their grandparents, then eventually head for bed out the back, and at the end of the nite we would pick them up and carry them to the car, and from the car to their beds at home, until such a time as they got too big to lift and then we would have to wake them. I used to fret ( does a mothers guilt ever end?!), that we were setting them up for a lifetime of stirring at midniteish, but since then we've bought my parents property next door to the restaurant, and for the last 5 years the girls have spent the evenings in this house not needing to be disturbed at nite,  and they haven't shown any signs of sleep issues. Getting them to bed in the first place is really the only problem...

Long term customers quite regularly reminisce about how they remember the days when the girls used to be parked up at a table in the corner, doing their homework, or heading for the toilets in their pyjamas with a toothbrush in hand. I used to wonder whether customers who didn't know us would react negatively to the unprofesssionalism of 2 little bodies around the place, but I used to assuage that twitch, with the knowledge that it simply felt so right for us to have the girls there, that if it was a problem for others, then they were going to have to deal with it.

The restaurant has been an ever present part of the girls lifes growing up - the economic reality that it represents never goes away. We have pretty much taken for granted that they would work in it with us, becos we like the notion of them coming to grips with the idea that returns are generated becos of effort expended.

And while our business reality has meant that for us as a family we haven't been able to buy into the Kiwi tradition of 3 weeks at the bach over summer, it has allowed us to have 2 holidays ( working ones admittedly, but still...!), in Europe, to Italy and to France, and the memories built around those trips are pretty special. So I don't think my daughters can argue too much neglect!

We have become a tight foursome over the years, but a significant other in our family is Zoe, who's acted as a mentor and friend to the girls as they hit their teenage years, and who has a permanent place as part of the extended whanau. Shes stoked to think that there might actually be a spare bed to nab next time shes in town, rather than having to bunk down on whatever surface looked the softest as she's done in the past...

And now of course, at the restaurant, our staffing levels are considerably higher than they used to be, which frees Rick and I up alot more to work on the business rather than those fabled 20 hour days in the early years, day after day, when we used to do everything. Now we have awesome staff who have taken a huge amount of that stuff away from us, giving  us a broader perspective, and more time of course, to follow our daughters activities. Cookschool schedules are plotted carefully after first checking everyones diaries; wedding bookings are only taken if they don't clash with major tours. That is just the way it is, and we've got to a place where we feel pretty comfortable about it.

I think my daughters have been lucky to grow up in what has inadvertently become a kind of  extended whanau of staff and customers who've become friends over the years. They have lots of people around them who take a vital interest in what they're doing and who look out for them, and as a result Somerset is about our daughters as much as it is about Rick and I.

They leave home as two fit, happy together young women, who believe that the world is their oyster, and to say that I am in awe would be somewhat of an understatement!

We had a cookschool today - we're now well into the current series, and we're enjoying the food and the people. And the wine, Mt Difficulty Target Gully Riesling. One of my life's missions is to try to convince people that rieslings are great food wines, so I slip one into a cookschool series occasionally, and have been delighted by the positive responses from people so far with this one.

The dogs and I have had a siesta this afternoon - the weather has been so wet and muggy that there wasn't much incentive to do anything else. I'm itching to get in and start cleaning the house, but my daughters' paraphenalia is currently spread over every available horizontal surface as they organise themselves to leave in the next few days. So am trying to exercise a little restraint, and wait until they're gone, and we can then have a thorough cleanup. Will be very satisfying, becos its somewhat overdue!

In amongst the other stuff, we've spent the last 2 weeks trying to get our youngest dog pregnant - something that I had thought going into the exercise was going to be reasonably prefunctorily and straight forward. But I was wrong- very wrong!
Our breeder had put us onto the owners of a dog who live over in Rotorua - a delightful family, just as passionate about Weimaraners as we are. Was very cool to pull up at their gate to the view of 3 dogs rushing over to inspect us.
In trying to find a day when Kazza was prepared to entertain the notion of allowing the male near her, we ended up tooing and froing from Rotorua a number of times. Karen even brought the dog over to us a couple of times. In the end we had success- but lord, what a process! I thought nature would have jigged things to be a little more straightforward, but after talking to a vet contact, I realise that I was just ignorant going into the exercise.

Our pooch is very subdued, which we are hoping is a sign that she is pregnant - and I don't think I'll be able to wait the 5 weeks that the books tell us it takes for them to show, and I think we'll be taking advantage of modern medicine and popping down the road for a scan sometime soon.

All interesting!

Kazza and Rick waiting somewhat apprehensively for the male dog to be introduced. We needn't have worried, as I mused to Campbell, our vet,  one of the things I learnt from the exercise was that the bitch controls the whole process. If she isn't interested there is no way the dog is going to get near - she lets him know in no uncertain terms. I was very proud of how staunch my girl was, and had to periodically remind myself, that her being sniffy wasn't the purpose of the exercise!

Daz very keen to get up close and personal!

Their second mating - when Karen brought Daz over to us. This holding them together stage took 50 mins the second time - we'd been told 20 mins was the norm, but no-one was tempted to rush them - we just drunk cups of tea and waited! As you do!

So we are seriously hoping that all the effort was not for nought, and our somewhat subdued pooch  has successfully concieved!

When a query arises about a recipe  these days, more often than not Rick and I tend to head to the internet rather than to our extensive book and magazine library. There is a massive worldwide community out there of people, ready and willing to share their love of good food.

That process has led me to a few writers who I especially like - who's philosophies and approach to food reasonates with me, and I refer back to those people on a regular basis.

Was interested therefore to see that most of the blog writers that I go to are on this list just published by The London Times of the top 50 food blog writers in the world.

Since I'm surplus at the restaurant tonite, and technically supposed to be on bed rest, I thought I'd have a little perusal of some of the sites that I'm not familiar with. Has just served to underscore that the web is an extraordinary tool, for sharing information easily and directly. It truly is amazing!

Via Michael Ruhlmans blog I got to watch this video of a passionate Italian chef making pesto creamier than I've ever seen it, and with some fascinating asides about the importance of soaking the basil, and putting wine in the pasta dough.

We have a garden full of basil at the moment, so I'm going to make this tomorrow becos it looks like my idea of heaven...

We had a winemakers dinner with Steve and Caroline Bird, from Bird Wines last nite. Steve had a number of wine styles that he wanted to showcase, so we delved into 'The French Laundry ' cookbook for inspiration for a series of small courses, specially designed to go with each wine in a progression. A recent acquisition from Amazon "What to Drink with what you eat" by Andrew Dornenberg and Karen Page proved a useful source of some flavour ideas.

Always a subject of debate, this idea of matching. Do you go for like with like, or do you look at contrast so as to throw certain flavours into relief. And then you have the added complication that wine flavours will vary when drunk  with food. In discussion with a good customer last nite, who's palate I have a lot of respect for, he pointed out that he and his wife had initially preferred the 06 of the 2 pinot noirs poured, when they first tryed the wines, but then they reversed their decision after drinking the wines with the duck, and felt the 07 was better with the food.

Its that kind of debate that always makes for interesting chat, becos theres no right or wrong - each person will have their own preferences, and I find it all quite fascinating.

Guests worked their way thru 6 different wines, which equated to 6 different glasses per person ( obviously!),  not to mention a  water glass for each person and the martini glass that we served the cherry parfait for dessert in - nearly 500 glasses in total, that had to be washed polished and put away. Knowing that we were up for a pretty major undertaking I'd suggested to Courteney that she might like to come and help ( she has wheels to pay off...) , so she spent the evening in front of the dishwasher in the bar, 'doing' the glasses. With a little help occasionally of course. But I think she was definitly over glasses by the end of the evening.

And then today she happened to arrive home just as we were at a crucial stage in the mating performance of Kazza - a visual experience that my daughter summed up somewhat succinctly as 'yuck!'I doubt the trauma will be permanent though!

Mating dogs - thats a subject worthy of another whole blog.....

Home alone today - Courteneys racing over in Te Awamutu in a 2 day tour, and Hannahs up in the Coromandel doing a 24 hour bush trek, as part of her training for the 4 person adventure racing team she's just got into, and I'm needing some down time after a particularly frenetic few days, to restore my sense of equilibrium, before I front my least favourite nite of the year - Valentines nite. So the dogs and I are having a quiet kind of day - we'll take the coffee grinds down to the compost later, but I don't envisage exerting myself too much more than that, although I will have some food ready for the family to consume on their return. Because they'll be needing it!

Maybe my sense of distaste for all the overhyped commercialisation and herd like behaviourial patterns that  Valentines Day seems to generate in people, has made me particularly sensitive to the  understated frankness and honesty of this amazingly competent man, in this US network interview. The pilot who brought the plane down with no loss of life in the Hudson River.

Hero is a word sometimes used too glibly, and attributed to people who do little more than create lots of press about themselves and their own fabulousness. But this gentleman is in a totally different class all together. An amazing man!

As I've written previously, molecular gastronomy is not something that Rick or I have embraced as yet. We haven't had the opportunity  so far, to eat at one of the restaurants that are considered world leaders in this modern style of cooking, although we have occasionally experienced foams or powders in Auckland  and Wellington restaurants, which are derivatives of the general approach.

Both of us naturally gravitate to food that makes us feel good, rather than food as an intellectual exercise - which is why I guess, we're both a little dubious about some of this molecular stuff. But not having tried the best, we don't feel in a position to really comment, and we've both read the Alinea cookbook and Thomas Kellers latest on sous vide cooking with a heightened sense of curiosity and the intention of trying some of the techniques.

Was intrigued therefore to read thru David Lebovitz's experience  in his latest blog thats just arrived. I thought he captured extremely well, the debate that is going on in the food world as to whether this a  passing trend, like nouvelle cuisine, or something that is going to permenantly alter the way we cook in the future.

It was also interesting to read the comments posted at the bottom of the blog, , becos they somewhat concisely represent the arguments that flurry around the food world about this style of approach to food.

It is hot!  Not as hot as in Australia admittedly, but nonetheless, hot by our standards.
In the old kitchen, here at the restaurant, our heat extraction used to be totally inefficent, and the temperature in there used to soar over summer, as evening service progressed and the ovens pumped out heat. David, one of our previous chefs, was over six feet tall, and by the end of the nite, his head used to disappear into a fugue of hot muggy air. We all suffered, but he especially so cos he was up higher! When we did the alterations we put in new, state of the art, heat extraction that has been so incredibly efficient by contrast,  that over winter its been known for people to comment that it feels cold. Something that would have once been completely inconcievable.
The young guys who now work in the kitchen have no idea how lucky they are, but it is amazing how quickly you adjust and adapt to the new and take it for granted. Every so often I pull myself up short, and just remember how bad it used to be. And feel very glad that we've moved on from that stage. We were in a restaurant recently that had a wood fired oven in the kitchen, and I watched the chefs with considerable empathy.

Likewise out front in the restaurant, we realised that first summer after completing the alterations that we had a major problem and were going to have to put airconditioning in, even though I'd long resisted the concept. But we had a couple of weeks over that summer when the air in the restaurant was so hot and oppressive that people just kind of melted at the tables. Not a good look for a restaurant that wants people to feel comfortable and settle in for the evening.  I'm the sort of person  though, who likes to be able to throw open doors and windows inviting fresh air in, so it took me awhile to move on from my somewhat recalicatrant position, becos one of the downsides of aircon from my perspective was that you had to close up things for it to be efficient. But I've adjusted and adapted, and am intently thankful for its efficency now, I have to say.

The other thing we had to do subsequent to finishing the alterations was to install blinds over the front windows, becos when the shelter belts were cut down across the road,  the evening sun sinking on the horizon, started shining unimpeded into the restaurant right at eye level, between about 6.30 and 7.30pm. That didn't create quite the right ambience either, so we now have these fantastic awnings that the boys in the kitchen wind down across the front of the restaurant during the afternoon, and the impact  doing that has on temperature is quite considerable, as they deflect the sun away from the interior. One of the things that intrigued me in France was the habit in the afternoon, that we noticed as we drove thru small villages,  for people to retreat indoors and to pull their shutters closed. I had always assumed those shutters were there for warmth in the old buildings over cold weather.  It never occured to me that pulling them shut on the sun would cool down the interior.   As a Kiwi, who thrives on indoor/outdoor flow, and lots of glass and fresh air,  I thought it a rather strange concept to retreat and  close things up so as to cool them down. But I think I understand a little more now...

We have a private lunch in the restaurant today - and its a stinking hot day. I came over earlier this morning to stock the wine chillers and resisted the temptation to open the windows, instead turning on the aircon and keeping everything closed, which means that when the guests arrived it felt pleasantly cool to walk into the restaurant. They have however, spent the first hour outside and on entering the restaurant one of those female types that I always find especially abrasive, has gone around opening windows. When it was suggested to her that things would actually get cooler if we closed those windows again to give the aircon a chance, becos the air is hotter outside than it is inside,  she sat down with barely concealed ill grace, and on my last 2 sweeps by the table I've been regarded extremely balefully,  as she frantically fans herself with her menu. I don't think I'm going to win there!

One of the other beneficial side effects of aircon that I hadn't anticipated is that in keeping the doors and windows closed at nite, we keep out flying bugs, something that I always thought were an unavoidable part of summer dining. But we've diminished their presence quite significantly. Haven't cancelled them out totally becos thats not possible, which is why I always get somewhat bemused at the extreme reaction you can get from some people at the sight of the occasional fly or insect. Having said that though, we did have one bizarre evening shortly after we reopened this year, when we hadn't got back into the habit of shutting everything up in the afternoon to get the temperature down, and guests had opened windows on their arrival which had stayed open during the evening,  and for reasons I don't fully understand the chandelier above table 16  late in the evening attracted what constituted a  swarm of flying beetles, and the gentlemen sitting around the table were understandably somewhat perturbed  by what amounted to a veritable bombardment. Not nice. But shutting the windows at nite has meant we haven't had a repeat, I'm pleased to say.

I remember an afternoon wedding we did here years ago for friends, a small intimate garden affair, that nearly dramatically came unstuck, when a swarm of bees starting arriving prior to the guests. I've never seen a swarm of bees flying before, and watched incredulously as individual bees starting bombarding the windows in increasing numbers and intensity, and we realised we were watching a hive population move. They eventually alighted into a bush in the then front garden - funnelling down like a tornedo, and we might have got away with leaving them there, but I was so worried that if they got inadvertently disturbed then we would end up with thousands of angry bees buzzing around unprotected guests, and that didn't bear thinking about. So some frantic phone calls were made, and this wonderful man came and removed them, while the wedding ceremony was happening.

We did a country wedding recently in a large marquee in a field, surrounded by dairy farms, and where you get cows you get cow dung. And guess what cow dung attracts? Flies- lots and lots of flies. Hoards of the bloody things actually! It was a useful reminder for me that the compost heap that I've started is better positioned down in the paddock rather than up close to the restaurant as I'd orginally intended. I happen to believe that some people get extreme in their belief that the natural environment should be totally and utterly sterile, but by the same token it would have been a little  silly to have placed something close to the restaurant that would have been such an obvious fly magnet.
And as it is, the dogs and I enjoy our occasional wanders down below to dispose of the scraps, and that more than compensates for the inconvenience of having it a reasonable distance away...
Time to make coffees for the group...

I am just about to head over to the restaurant for evening service  - and becos we're not too busy tonite,  will probably only stay for awhile, before I leave things to Rhonda. We have a large catering job in Opito Bay tomorrow, and I have to get my head around the stuff I need to take, becos its a 3 hour or so drive to get there, and therefore not possible to pop back and grab something I've forgotten! Lists, lists and more lists!

We had some changes to the menu come on last nite, and changes to the menu always create a bit of a disconnect, becos of the difference they make to our normal routine. The kitchen staff have to prep differently, and the front staff have to learn to explain the changes. Seasonal changes to ingredients though, mean that its a neat time of the year to be coming up with new ideas - stonefruit, corn, tomatoes, watermelon. Yum. My breakfast at the moment, comprises plums that I pick from the tree outside our bedroom, together with peaches from the tree next to the restaurant, and nashi and passionfruit from the orchard down below - a bowl of sunshine mixed with Canaan yoghurt. Helps make the daily dose of depression in the morning newspaper more palatable!

A new menu always means a degree of uncertainty in terms of how the new dishes will be recieved.  We can never predict what is going to be popular and what isn't - and ideally what Rick is looking for always, is balance in ordering. He wants to see a reasonable cross section of dishes being chosen, not just one or two, and he works hard to effect that appeal. We hate running out of something, and it constantly amazes me how he manages to avoid that happening. We never know prior to any service what we are going to sell the most off, and it varies from nite to nite. The only time we ever get caught out, and it happens every year, is on that first unexpectedly chilly nite at the approach of winter, when suddenly  everyone decides they need lamb shanks, and they're not something you can suddenly whip up out of thin air.

I don't like over stating food descriptions on the menu - for someone who's normally reasonably verbose, I like keeping the menu descriptions succinct. I'd rather understate and over deliver. But how you word things can make a difference to what people choose to order, and we've discovered over the years that sometimes just tweaking the wording rather than the dish itself, can increase the ordering. We have a tomato soup on  now. A beautiful tomato soup thats made from sunripened tomatoes that have been skinned and deseeded, with basil from our garden, and  then pureed to be smooth and creamy and delicous. But you don't say that on the menu - you call it 'tomato soup', and hope that people will trust the kitchen enough to know that, while  tomato soup may be somewhat ubiquitous - a soup made properly, from seasonal tomatoes, is going to have a flavour profile that elevates it into something special. Its a connundrum we often debate. If food appears too simple, then people may not get the care and attention thats gone into it, but by the same token we don't want to make things complicated purely for the sake of making them so. That seems pointless to us.

I have however instigated something I've been wanting to do for awhile with the soup. Its presented at the table initially as just an arancini ( risotto ball), and then the soup itself is poured around the ball by the waitstaff in front of the customer. A little bit of theatre. That accomplishes nothing beyond being exactly that. I was trained at Bonapartes, many years ago, in Auckland, where we used to do a lot of table cooking in the European style - whole crayfish tails, peppersteaks, crepes suzettes. I was young and totally inexperienced, and it was that niaivity in retrospect that got me thru. I didn't know enough to know what I didn't know, so I'd just soldier on, and as long as you put enough alcohol in to create the requisite burst of flame, people were impressed. We had trolleys - girdion trolleys I think they were called, that I'd dearly love to have now, but reps look at me strangely when I try and explain them. I see them in European magazines though, so I know they're still out there, and maybe one day we'll be able to import a couple.

Pitching service right in a restaurant is never easy, in the sense that different people require different things from the wait staff. Some would be happy if you stood and chatted all nite, while others see every approach to the table as an irritating intrusion on their conversation. Good service learns to differentiate and give people what they want. Knowing how to take an order so that when the food goes out to the table you don't have to ask who ordered what; and being able to clear plates onto your arm rather than stacking them haphardly on the table are 2 basic skills that all waitstaff should be able to do. But its also nice to be able to introduce other little touches that create a special factor, without any corresponding degree of starchiness, and that is what I'm aiming to do with the soup. We'll see how it goes...

This party in Opito tom is the start of a weekend affair that we are supposed to be staying on for, but can't, becos Rhonda's away on holiday from Saturday, and Courteney has track racing in Taupo, and we have a private lunch at the restaurant on Sunday - all of which has conspired to mean we'll be driving back. As you do. Haven't quite plucked up the courage to tell the hostess that yet, becos she won't be happy with us, but hopefully we'll be forgiven!
Its our wedding anniversary on Sunday - 23 years - and becos Rhondas away, I'll be working, so to celebrate I suspect the evening will finish with a bottle of bubbly on the deck at home, lit by the lantern, that the bride and groom from the wedding we did last weekend, dropt in on their way back to Wgtn yesterday. Its homemade, and quirky and gorgeous - just like them, and I can't think of a nicer way of celebrating 23 very full years!

Jancis Robinson is an English wine critic who I've long admired. I remember watching a BBC production years ago, that she did about apreciating wine, and decided back then that I liked her direct and honest approach. There is so much flowery codswoddle associated with the subject of wine, that its always somewhat refreshing to listen to someone who calls it the way they see it.

I pay attention to her recommendations - her website is a fascinating resource, and her books make fascinating reading.

Shes in NZ at the moment for the Pinot conference down in Central Otago, and I thought this interview was a very postive endorsement from a lady who some years ago, was less than complimentary about NZ pinot noirs.  Our pinot noirs are constantly improving and that  must bode well for the NZ wine industry as a whole, which by natural extension is good for all of us in the food and wine business, I figure.

The more standards are lifted, the more we all gain...

I have spent a reasonable amount of today flicking back thru old photographs - both on the computor and in a box under my desk.
Digital photography constantly amazes me with both its immediacy in terms of the gratification of being able to see the photo straight away,  and the degree of control I have to play around with the photos, once I've downloaded them onto the computor.  Have just followed my daughters  out of the house as they went to get their bikes to go on a club ride, and made them stand still for a minute so I could get a photo of them, for something I need. Came inside, downloaded those photos, and then played around with the lighting in the one I wanted to use, to lighten up the shadows created on their faces from their helmets. And just like that - in minutes, I have the photo I need. Pretty cool really.

For both our major overseas trips I bought a digital camera - the first was a small one with a fixed lens, that was perfect for my needs at the time, but  which had me soon chaffing at the lack of a zoom lens. So before the trip to France I got a serious upgrade to a Canon, that I love, and which I've never resented lugging around, even though its a reasonably weighty piece of equipment.
Photos to me, are a record of times and people - and I love the memories that they can bring back, and the sense of immediacy that they create. I'm not arty in my eye and the way I look at things, so Picassa gives me as much technical support as I need at this stage. Instead I look on the photos that I take, as a record, a memento of life lived and the people that have coloured it.
My camera has possibilites far beyond my capabilities though and I am in the process of trying to understand more about the whole process, so as to broaden my horizons a titch. To that end I subscribe to a daily email from a Digital photography school, that quite regularly has some interesting information and links, and I'm seriously considering going and doing a workshop with Andy Belcher out in Maketu. He's a friend of a friend, and the person responsible for the photos of Hannah kayaking, that grace Waimarino Kayaks van, and the BOP Tourism billboards around town. And  which always make me smile when I see them, becos they're such stunning photos of my daughter!

Hopefully once we get the catering season out of the way - there will be time for an indulgent Saturday learning all sorts of new stuff with him.

In going thru the photos today I found this one of me, that Mark took in France, when we were at the Auberge doing Phillipes cookschool. Being someone who has never seen a photo of myself that I've liked, I thought this somewhat perfectly fitted the bill....