Nose to wing, actually.*
Ricky’s currently working on Paladin down at the boatyard just below the cottage and drifted up the hill with some snapper wings that they’d smoked the night before.
Can’t believe that they’re not sold at flash gourmet emporia as a delicacy.
*Not really “wing” either – they’re actually the meaty bit around the throat with the pectoral fin
People turn up at Port Hoddy all the time, park up, sometimes leave a mess (poo and toilet paper in the bushes) and bugger off next day.
(Some idiots parked up on the front lawn once. The grass needed an urgent visitation from the tractor mower very early that morning….)
The couple the other night were different.
Called across the paddock to ask if it was OK to stay (now THAT makes a change), so I strolled across for a chinwag.
They’re French from Toulouse, doing a 5 month world tour and just here for the night.
Told them about the fire hazard and pas de pooing dans la garrigue (they’re self contained), had an enjoyable chat and gave them some chilies, tarragon and lemon grass for the mussels they’d bought in Havelock and were planning to cook up for a feed.
(Didn’t want any aubergines, more’s the pity)
But they can come back anytime they like.
PS They – Fréderic et Marriannick – left a note in the mailbox next day, thanking us for the herbs. How nice.
A day’s harvest from the pony poo-powered organic raised beds.
Supermarket, callow youth at check-out picks up one of these and asks “What’s this?”
Flicks through his price list and says….
“All I’ve got under “O” is “oranges”……
Good thing they changed it.
Otherwise you might have thought they’re all er, bores……
Not this one, for sure…
There’s a 4 Star garden, too
Oh Bathytoshia brevicaudatai
death, where is thy sting?
Seen fleetingly at Port Mapua.
Boy, they’re graceful.
(Young Friend Sam, our local biologist, says that stingray populations are increasing, unlike the populations of some of his favourite animals which will be extinct by 2026)
If you think that rural cuisine around here is limited to sheep meat and 3 veg, fush and chups and pies, then think again.
This was the menu for the monthly event at New Zealand’s oldest pub, the Moutere Inn.