This is a link to a CBS interview with Alice Waters who is considered  by many to be one  of the gurus of the food movement in America which, over the last couple of decades  has seen a gradual change in peoples attitude to food. The Farmers Markets that are now increasingly prominant in  New Zealand, can be linked back to her efforts in Berkeley in the 70s to get a market up and happening in an urban area.

Nothing that she was doing or espousing back then was original -  she was simply  transplanting the ideas that she had absorbed in France with the likes of Richard Olney - and taken back this concept of eating locally grown, seasonal food to a suspicious American public.

Increasingly such ideas have found reasonance with a wider and wider circle of people - but as I think the comments made in this followup thread to the CBS interview with her, the flag bearers of ideas  that provoke people to make changes in their lives have to be prepared to wear some fairly derisory personal comment.

I'm never sure why people who disagree have to respond on quite that level, but then I'm no fan of the degree of idiolatry that can come with the territory too. I find much healthier dialogue tends to happen in the middle ground.

All interesting - and links to another article on Serious Eats, that points out somewhat plaintively, that just becos things are espoused as been artisinally produced, doesn't by decree mean that they are going to taste good. Life isn't that black and white, unfortunetly, and just becos you suscribe to a belief that small producers are better  that mass produced food stuffs, it doesn't mean you can park up your critical facilities and assume that all product produced from small producers is going to be by definition, better. Becos it simply ain't so!

I've just finished compiling a stack of newsletters. We have some friends coming to help with the ' fold/put in envelopes/affix stamp' stage in the morning, so wanted to be organised.

We have a large outcatering wedding on Saturday and I'm sincerely hoping that this run of idyllic late, autumnual weather is going to last until that is over, becos the setting where it is to be held, is beautiful - provided the sun is shining...

But I won't dwell on that - instead I'll write about this latest book that I've just finished, by the American author Mort Rosenblum. One of the huge advantages of Amazon is that when I get excited about a certain author, I can go on the computor and order anything else by them that appeals, before that sense of enthusiasm abates. In this instance I've had a number of parcels arrive over the last week, with the subject matter ranging from olives to living in a houseboat on the Seine slapbang in  the middle of Paris,  to " A Goose in Toulouse', which is a loose commentary on the state of culinary matters in France at the turn of the 21st century. The common thread between all the books is that they discuss France with love and affection, and that feels totally appropriate for my here and now, as I become aware that I'm starting to get warm around the edges about gearing up to organise another big trip abroad.

Mort Rosenblum wrote the fascinating book on chocolate that I've previously blogged about, and I enjoyed his easy style of writing. He manages to impart a huge amount of information in an easy, engaging style.

"A Goose in Toulouse' is a series of essays about the state of eating and drinking in France, and how the growth in fast food, and the dreaded bureaucrats from Brussels are impacting on age old tradition.

"Over centuries, the dinner table has remained an anchor for families and friendships, the heart of what is finest about France. each course requires seperate effort, part of a whole. Children learn their values and their manner at mealtime. Nothing important gets signed, sealed or delivered without the clinking of glasses and the rattling of cutlery."

He wanders around France to all points north and south and pokes his nose into many aspects of food and wine production - cheese, Chateau d'Yquem, oysters, fois gras, snails, the Michelin  guide to restaurants, truffles, hunting of the wild boars - and in each instance discusses the changes that are happening and whether they are percieved to be good or bad for the future.

There is a deeply ingrained belief in France as espoused by Brillat- Savarin that 'the pleasure of the table reigns among other pleasure, and it is the last to console when others are lost."

Becos of what I do, I tend to subscribe to that theory wholeheartedly, and in my all too brief time in France so far, I've always felt completely at home surrounded by such a passion for good food. It is something I sincerely hope the French never loose, and I found some of the points raised in this book, in terms of the trends and the worries for the future quite fascinating.

A delightful, thought provoking read, which given it was written back in 2000, was considerably ahead of  its time.

I tried to send this link in the newsletter that I sent out electronically today, but something didn't transpute and it didn't work. I think its too cute not to pass on, so, for those who love dogs and need them in their lives, stop and have a wee smile...

Have just got back from Sunday brunch over at Slowfish. As I sat and waited for Courteney and Rick to turn up on their bikes to meet me - they'd left home at 7am to ride a mere 100k before breakfast, as you do - I  took in the beach and surrounds, and mused over how much we take what is on our doorstep  for granted, when, we are in fact, incredibly lucky to have such easy access to such gorgeousness.
We'd done a wedding last nite, which was the main reason I was a little later than planned arising this am, and rather than 'doing' the Mount, I'd driven over to meet the rest of the family, and had arrived early, hence some fill in time, sitting on  a seat, indulging in a spot of people watching.

Courteney's been home for the weekend - she had a club Time Trial on yesterday, as a result of which she arrived fashionably late to help us with the wedding... before deciding she was surplus to requirements and headed for home to do some work on an assignment. Priorities she knew her parents wouldn't quibble over too much...

We are almost at the end of our wedding season, and one of the highlights for us this year, has been the discovery of 2 new venues where we can go in as outside caterers. Tauranga lacks wedding venues - and becos we prefer not to do them at the restaurant, since it would mean we would have to close too often for normal dining custom, we are dependant on other venues. Most of the functions we cater are for people we know, and as a result alot end up being in peoples homes - and usually in marquees in beautiful gardens.
Rick and I got married at my parents home, and home weddings can retain a degree of personalness that is very special. They do however involve conspicuous cost  and effort for the people involved - becos usually absolutely everything, right down to extension cords - needs to be hired. And then there is the months of effort to bring gardens up to a full display of gorgeousness, and the attendant demands that goes with that.

Not everyone is up to that kind of pressure, which is why quite often they prefer to look for an away from home site, when they can turn up, enjoy and then walk away at the end of the nite. Something I totally understand. So these 2 new venues that customers of ours suggested to us this year, have increased the range of possibilites that we can discuss with clients, and that is always a good thing!

One is Ambiance, which is up Pyes Pa Road. A marquee, in a lovely, expansive garden setting, but with a concrete base for the marquee, ( which has all sorts of positive connatations when the weather turns inclement!) Sonja is a consumate professional, and we worked with her for Juliets wedding and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Juliet is an old staff member, who we love dearly - and her wedding was always going to be special becos her parents and a couple of the guests had been in France with us - and we wanted it to be a happy day for her.  Something  we were helped to achieve by  the fact that  Sonya is a perfectionist, who understands all the little issues that go towards making an event run smoothly. We were impressed and have recommended her to another good customer who's daughter's wedding we will be catering in 2010.

And then last nite we had the somewhat odd - at least initially - experience of rocking up to the restaurant at Morton Estate  Winery, to do another wedding for good customers. Odd, becos our association with Morton goes back to our earliest days at Somerset, and we hadn't realised until these clients started talking about it as a possible venue, that the restaurant had in fact, closed down, and it was available for hire. I was out there initially by myself in the morning, just unloading some stuff from the car, and getting my bearings for the day - and I fully expected to see John, or Steve or Warren come round a corner with a boisterous greeting. But no - they are long gone, and the restaurant sits there empty - but not quite forlorn. The winery staff gave it a burst of care for the wedding and I have to say it scrubbed up rather beautifully.

 In fact it was the perfect location for what was a unique and very special wedding - there was a point late in proceedings when I suggested to Lyn and Trice that they come out of the kitchen  and have a look  - the evening sun was streaming in thru the vineyard, bathing the pools of people sitting around various tables in that golden light, and it all just had a lovely feel, quite buccolic in fact!
Being supremely organised, I forgot to take my camera out! - so regretfully didn't get to take any photos to prove my point, but Bill, who organises the hireage, can be contacted at the cellar door of the winery ,  if anyone wants to have a look.

We think it has all sorts of possibilities...

And when Rick and I were having our usual wedding debrief - ie. an exhausted chat  over a bowl of rice ( rice flavoured with kecap manis and seasame oil, I might add - a flavour combination that I truly love), as we collasped on the couch at home, having upacked everything - he made the  very telling comment that having a commercial kitchen to operate out off, with a fantastic walkin chiller, made what he does a huge amount less stressful. Which possibly contributed to the general  feeling of relaxedness that emanated thru the whole day... A few more benches would be useful though Bill! Its a small kitchen and I don't think it was designed to have quite as many bodies in it as it did yesterday - but we all get on well, and we coped, as you do!

This link is to an article in Life and Leisure magazine on Jennifer Boggiss and her family and the growth of their vanilla business, Heilala Vanilla.

We have been using their vanilla since the very  early days, becos we like and respect them enormously ( always a good place to start I find!), and love the vanilla itself.

We go thru an amazing amount of vanilla and spent lots of time in cookschools convincing people that its worth using the real thing. Recently I've been converted to their paste, which is an even more convenient way of getting my much loved vanilla hit!

I have just had a wee afternoon siesta - the dogs and I, becos I seemed to be wilting a bit. Both my daughters came home yesterday, Courteney to stay for the weekend. Shes picking up her time trial bike at the moment,( having also dropt in her computor to Chris who is our guru for all computor problems!),  which an incredibly generous friend has rebuilt for her, and kitted out with the latest equipment. We feel very priviledged to have the enthusiasm and generosity of the people in our lives that we do.

 Hannah flicked home for a pit stop, and to drop of the mountain bike that she'd sold on Trade Me - she'd organised with the lady who'd bought it to pick it up from us - as you do. On the way down she'd picked up her new mountain bike from Errol at Velo Sport - a very generous supporter of both our daughters - plus the double kayak that she needed for the Arc Race, which she is currently competing in as I write this.

We'd been texted thru a provisions list, that included somewhat escoteric things like marine flares, and as we pointed out to Hannah, we aren't really the kind of people to have that sort of stuff hanging around in our cupboards. Food yes - and we came to the party with bacon and egg pie and pasta bake, and muesli bars and..., and got the flares from a friend who, by virtue of owning a boat, does possess such stuff.
Her car was jammed packed with the stuff you need for races like this - bikes and bags and headlights, and as Rick examined her new mountain bike, she showed me the heart rate moniter that one of her professors had given her to wear for the 24 hours of the race, when he discovered that she was doing it, becos he thought it would reveal some interesting data.I'm more interesting in her finishing in one piece!

The Arc is a 24 hour adventure race that you do in teams of 4, and this is her first experience  and her first launch into the unknown. And it is unknown, becos they don't tell the competitors until they all rock up at the starting point at 8am today in Pauanui where they were heading first.Hannah said they all got a 'random' text during the week, saying the first leg involved a sea kayak out to a 'submarine'.  From there they have to use a combination of physical prowess and mental toughness and orienteering skills to work their way thru the various disciplines. Rick showed me the video of last years race ( click on Arc 2008 down below on the screen that comes up, and it should run), and I decided I needed a wee lie down!

We think we might drive up tom am, armed with some hot choc in a flask, and something sweet and comforting to eat, as you do, to hopefully  see them emerge from the bush, safe and sound - probably about 7.30/8am if all goes according to plan.
 How she fits it all in, god knows. It makes me tired just thinking about it.

Ah well - I'll go and do some baking, which is  the kind of useful contribution that I can make!

This link is to a recording of Fair Go, and shows a debate over culpability in a situation where inexperienced diners in a middle of the road restaurant, thought they had ordered a couple of glasses of cheap red wine, but were instead presented with the most expensive wine on the list which was decanted in front of them and then poured into their glasses. Grange Hermitage, a mere snip at $575.00 a bottle.

The programme endeavours to show that this particular diner is not someone intent on getting something for free, but was instead out of his comfort zone, and was misunderstood by the waiting staff, and presented with something that was substantially outside his means to pay for.

I found it all really interesting, and what had led me to track it down on the TVNZ website, was the fact that good customers of ours came in for dinner last week having watched it, and had what I thought were intriguing comments to make. They felt that the restaurant had been unfairly targeted by the programme and that the owner had tryed to point out that it really isn't the restaurants responsibility to make a judgement call on whether or not customers can afford what they order. And I agree. I try really hard not to judge people by appearances - to do so, reeks of snobbery.
However. If a bottle of wine of that value was ordered, and tellingly the restaurant had only ever once before in 9 years, sold another bottle of Grange, then I would have thought that alarm bells, or at least considerable interest would have been peeked by who was ordering such an expensive bottle of wine. I know it does with us - and we don't have any bottles over the $200 mark.
I know that at the very least I would check or make some comment with the table before I pulled the cork - becos once that cork is out there is no going back..

To my mind, the crux of the whole issue is the discrepancy between what the diner believes he said, and what the waiting staff member says she heard. He said he ordered 2 glasses of Grange; she says she heard a bottle of Grange- the Grange, quite understandably isn't available by the glass. So therein is the rub.
Interestingly, as with most wine lists these days there were 2 columns of prices - one for bottle prices and one for glasses. And only a few of the wines are available by the glass which means a lot of blank space in the glass price column. I thought the suggestion of the TV reporter that to avoid confusion that column should then be filled with 'N/A", was ridiculous. If its blank its pretty bloody obvious that its not available by the glass I would have thought. I simply don't believe in pandering to the lowest common denominator - that means everything gets far too PC for my liking.

However- this gentleman obviously didn't read the list properly, and made an honest mistake. So who is responsible? I thought Mike Egan, the Restaurant Assn president, and a very experienced restaurant owner in his own right, expressed it totally accurately, when he was interviewed in the clip and said it was a perfect storm. No side had had malice of intent, but becos of circumstance and lack of understanding, it ended up with a very unfortunate outcome for all. ( Which I'm pleased to note that Penfolds have put right, subsequently.)

How do you avoid something like that happening? - communication and instinct I guess. Rhonda and I have spent alot of time around people in the restaurant, and you tend to very quickly catergorise them, and its relatively easy to pick up when people are out of their comfort zone, and would be appreciative of a little guidance, either with the menu or the wine list - and we really enjoy talking to those people and going the extra mile to find something that they would enjoy. ( Having said that, there is also a breed of people, who when they are out of their comfort zone, respond by getting aggressive and rude, and after an initial effort, we tend to back off those sorts.)

But, as I tell my husband reasonably often - communication is a wonderful thing!

It is very rare that I will walk back over to the house after a cookschool, without feeling a special kind of warm glow. Can't pin exactly what the source of that glow is, but suspect its a combination of factors, rather than just a single thing, and the class today was a typical example of why I enjoy them so much.

The combination of chat, and laughter and good food and  wine brings all sorts of nice stuff to the fore, and underscores for me on a very simple level what this business is all about.  Pleasure really.  Making people happy. I am only too well aware that we can't, and don't, please all the people all the time. ( One customer told me last week that a work collegue had eaten at Somerset on his recommendation, and had told him the next day that he thought it was 'crap'!). So I know we don't win everyone, and I've learnt to kind of accept that as inevitable becos human beings are too diverse to be able to please them all, but there is no doubt that occasionally I struggle,  becos I care enormously about the business, and I don't think for a minute what we do is 'crap'.

The cookschools however. provide us with a chance to talk about all sorts of things relating to the business - its an opportunity to share, and we do, and so do the attendees, and its this amazing interchange of chat that leads to all sorts of things. Today I was told by a lady, who started coming to the classes last year with a group of women, who then go on to cook the cookschool menu in its entirety for their menfolk at a shared dinner, that coming to the classes had reignited for her  a sense of enjoyment in cooking, She had given up cooking at home, becos she had issues with food and as a result had simply stopped cooking, but had found that the classes had given her a new perspective and enthusiasm, and most importantly a sense of pleasure in the kitchen.

I can think of no greater compliment. Food is such an integral, every day part of our lives, that I simply can't imagine living without enjoying pottering around in the kitchen. That we help make other people realise that satisfaction in some small way gives me immense pleasure. It makes the occasional negative comment a little easier to digest and leave behind....I think!

A book about the chocolate trail - from where it is grown and harvested, in a band of countries around the equator, to the history of how the first cacao beans were taken back to Europe and its subsequent evolution to the sweet, rich addicitive substance of today.

Single subject books allow for a fascinating amount of focus and detail and in a subject as deep and rich as chocolate, this book is immensely satisfying. The author is a journalist who has previously written books about olives( and I've just been on Amazon to order that and another couple by him!), and who came to the subject of chocolate with no preconceived notions.

What he has uncovered and laid out in fascinating detail is a wonderful evocation of a substance that arouses intense passion in people.
Collosal family fortunes were made back in the 1800s, by the Mars and the Hersheys et al, from the production of cheap candy and chocolate. Generations of Americans have grown up believing those to be the quintessential flavours of chocolate. But hard on the heels of the 21st century has  come the growth in an artisinal industry where the focus is on quality - just as has happened with bread and coffee, wine and olives.
Now people talk about single estate chocolates, and describe nuances of flavour as they would wine.
This book traverses the globe and talks to people in Africa, mexico, the Carribean, France, Belgium, England and America.
He debunks some of the myths and snobbery that inevitably end up being attached  to any such in demand product, and differentiates between those who make 'bonbons' - ganache filled chocolates, that they make from bought in blocks of chocolate which they melt down, and then those who make the chocolate itself from the cacao beans shipped in from the Equator. The book comes alive with the passion and enthusiasm of those who quite literally have dedicated their lives to making the very best chocolate in the world

.
As Anthelme Brillat-Savarin is quoted as saying: 'Nine of every ten persons say they love chocolate. The tenth lies!"

I concede to having being guilty of stating somewhat snottily in cookschools that we now wouldn't stoop to using a chocolate with less than 70% cocoa fat, and spent years turning up my nose at the chocolate chips that the girls would bring home from the supermarket for their baking, becos our chocolate was too strong for them. But in our last series Rick made some chocolates which were dark chocolate cups filled with dulce de leche, and topped with melted milk chocolate, and even I had to climb down of my high horse and accept that milk chocolate has its place. Sometimes its a good idea not to paint yourself into too much of a corner by stating absolutes, and some of the snobbery surrounding dark chocolate is misplaced and silly.

I rather warmed to the concept of chocolate as a health food, it s an area in which a lot of research is currently going on - the idea of medicating my hypertension with a little dark chocolate every day and glass of red wine, has infinitely more appeal that beta blockers, I feel. Although I'm not sure I'll take the medical fraternity with me just yet!

The book is a delight, written in a light vein, but completely packed with information. I've gained a huge amount of perspective on t he subject and next time Rick places an order with Sabato, I'll be getting down their range of single estate Valrohna chocolate bars, so I can sit down and do a comparative tasting and satiate my curiosity on this notion of flavours of terroir coming thru in chocolate  as it does in wine.
We can but try!