Kingsbrook Wines and Moroccan Lamb

Posted on 1 January 2013 by sheg4184

It was an intensely hot day in December complete with north wind. My sister-in-law had sweetly suggested taking us out to her favourite restaurant at Currency Creek, on the Fleurieu Peninsula. It was a Christmas treat, so I insisted on everyone dressing up a little, which, for the boys and me, meant jeans and a nice shirt or blouse. Not my cleverest idea ever, as it turned out…

The Currency Creek Inn was built in 1842 on the main road from Goolwa to Strathalbyn. In 1880 it was converted into a smart residence and renamed ‘Kingsbrook’. Owners Chris Norris and Anna Priamo bought the derelict building, without plumbing or electricity, in 1989, and it has been a work-in-progress ever since. Today it has been reborn as a winery complete with cellar door, accommodation in the beautiful stone outbuildings, and a Mediterranean style, open-air restaurant under a pergola, open only on Saturdays and Sundays. Kingsbrook is also the perfect country entertainment venue: a wedding in the Orangerie, a seminar in the pavilion, a birthday party by the pool, or just a romantic Sunday lunch for two.

The original house stands at the foot of a hill that used to swoop steeply down to the back door, but two months with an earth mover saw the ground levelled behind the house to create a lawn tennis court and a high sandstone wall. Climb up a steep flight of stone steps to a higher levelled area where a large kitchen garden is divided into raised garden beds filled with vegetables you will recognize from the cafe menu: artichokes and tomatoes; beans and rosemary; mint and spring onions. Two huge pear trees shade broad areas of garden above and below the sandstone wall.

The restaurant is an eclectic collection of stone and wooden tables with views to the vines and the lawn. Apple-blossom-pink bougainvillea trails around the open windows, and an espaliered mirror plant decorates the garden wall. Apparently there is also an olive grove, an orchard and free-range hens, not forgetting the wide selection of Kingsbrook’s own wines, including a very clean, cold rose, perfect on this achingly hot day.

We all gaze greedily at the blackboard menu with its array of modern Mediterranean dishes. Eventually, between us, we have chosen almost everything on the menu: a dish of slow-cooked Moroccan lamb with a chunky variation of fattoush salad and yoghurt sauce, and a bowl of soft, cushiony gnocchi served with a delicately creamy mushroom and gorgonzola sauce; there are gourmet pizzas on crusts as thin as paper, that snap and crackle in your mouth; our daughter chooses a mouthwatering combination of confit duck with orange glaze, served with watercress and mango salad, the One & Only goes for seared barramundi fillets, glazed in a spicy Tunisian, piri piri sauce (harissa), the skin grilled to a delicious, blackened crisp,  that floats on a bed of pearl couscous and preserved lemon.

While we wait for our meals, we wander out across the lawn with a glass of rose, to inspect the garden. The loveliest thing about Kingsbrook – aside from the fabulous food and the glorious setting – is the ability to potter between courses. The Kingsbrook ‘winery dog’ is a playful sandy colored, ten week old French sheep dog that has a brief love affair with my boots and has to be separated from another guest’s straw hat. He follows us around the garden and attempts to join us in a game of boules, and he is keen to tumble with our teenager beneath the vines, testing out his sharp new teeth on every available and unwary limb. We explore the vegetable garden and the aviaries – also a good opportunity to remove ourselves from the vicinity of the pizza oven’s heat!

After we have feasted, some gather back on the lawn for another game of boules, while others wander off into the shade of the vines, before being tempted back to our table to share creamy lemon tarts and a delectable chocolate pannacotta and berries,  both served  with thick, fresh cream.

On a cooler afternoon, we may still have been lazing on the lawn at dusk, but today it is just too hot and everyone is wilting, so we head home reluctantly for a reviving dip in the icy sea at Horse Shoe Bay.

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Of Birds and Beasts and Beaches

Posted on 30 December 2012 by sheg4184

My first morning back in Australia I woke up to the feel of a warm breeze on my skin, the sound of magpies warbling, the scent of eucalyptus on the air and the sight of the hazy purple of jacaranda flowers smudging the skyline. And I suddenly realized that engaging all the senses at once like this is unusual for a life spent on the 32nd floor in a vast, concrete, South East Asian city where wildlife is almost non-existent. While I occasionally watch an Olympic team of pigeons doing looping laps around the apartment building opposite, a selection of stray cats in the streets, or the neighbours’ pocket-sized dogs dressed in jackets and bootees, there is little evidence of the animal kingdom in Rockwell. So I have been overwhelmed by the myriad birds and beasts we have encountered since touching down at Tullamarine.

Stumpy lizards, with their heavily armoured, thick-set bodies, hide their eyes and pretend to be invisible amongst the rocks on Granite island. Woolly seals show off their circus tricks on the barrage at Goolwa. Koalas slump drunkenly in the gum trees at Brownhill Creek, oblivious to passing spectators. Multi-coloured rosellas swoop through suburban gardens, pink-chested galahs gather for an early morning chat on the football pitches in the parklands, while bossy Major Mitchells shriek and nag, dipping and diving over the lake at the back of Port Elliot, tossed about on the stiff wind circling up the coast. A solitary kookaburra contemplates its navel and round-shouldered ibis stalk possessively across the deck at a cafe on the Murray River. Tiny honey eaters, with their flash of golden-yellow feathers, sip briefly at the bottle brush flowers and dart away. And of course the magpies warble throatily at the dawn.

And with the sighting of each unique Australian bird or animal comes the memory of so many special Australian children’s books I have given the kids over the years (Wombat Divine and the Twelve Days of Christmas, Aussie style, to name just two), providing images of a wombat curled up in a manger, or an emu up a gum tree, Santa in boardies on a surfboard, or in his sleigh pulled by Six White Boomers,  and of course the Brolgas dancing out on the plains (or down at Cockle Bay in Sydney)…

Yet there are still a plethora of images, songs and festive dishes reminiscent of a wintry European Christmas, rather than our own dry, dusty, hot, summer one by the beach with surf boards and bikinis, or on the back lawn with barbecues and swimming pools. I have snowflakes and snowmen hanging on our traditional Germanic Christmas pine tree, and despite the fact that we cooked up the Christmas roast on the barbie, it was still English winter fare with gallons of baked root vegetables and hot plum pudding. Amusingly, I have also found that many shops are still sprinkled with fake snow, and Santa still refuses to unbuckle his heavy red suit or take his fur-lined boots off in favour of shorts and thongs despite forty degrees and a north wind.

Christmas lights may not work be as effective in the southern hemisphere (where the sun does not set till after 9pm) as they are in Regent Street, where the sun ducks below Buckingham Palace before four in the afternoon, but fairy lights are delightfully festive wherever you are. And there is something especially Australian and nostalgic about skipping over burning sand under a deep blue sky, and feeling the bone-warming-summer-afternoon-sun, while watching hoards of giggling kids scrambling down the beach to ride the waves on their new boogie boards from Father Christmas.

A small seaside town at the southern end of the Fleurieu Peninsula is where we have chosen to spend Christmas this year: an old-fashioned Christmas by the beach, armed with cricket bats and footballs, suncream and hats. One beach, stretching away in a long lean line, brow-beaten by boisterous surf, is empty and footprint-free in the early morning calm, ideal for long walks. The other beach is curved and gentle, wrapping its arms around the young family groups polka-dotting the sand and running the gamut of waves that are inclined to dump them unceremoniously back on the beach as they try enthusiastically to body surf.

Neat and pretty, stone, century-old houses with galvanized iron roofs and wrap-around verandas are tucked in behind imaginative modern structures boasting wide expanses of glass and wooden decks that overlook the sea from the edge of the sandy cliffs. A short, friendly high street is scattered with gift shops and coffee shops, bakeries and butchers, a dainty little Anglican church and an impressive town hall, cut in half by a railway line that meanders gently along the coast to the River Murray. Norfolk pines stand like sentinels at the back of the beach, once providing ship builders with instant masts for sailing ships broken and battered by storms off the rugged south coast of Australia.

Our first few days in town are quiet, and as we familiarize ourselves with our temporary home, we start – as we always do – to imagine a permanent base here, or a simple holiday home, fantasizing about regular visits and family gatherings at the beach. Gradually, as Christmas approaches, the beach houses and car parks fill with other holiday-makers keen to break free from mundane routines of school and work in the city, and escape to the sea. Now we fight for a table at ‘our’ coffee shop and queue half way down the street for pasties for lunch at the popular bakery on the main road.

Lamb chops on the barbie, salads and sunshine, beer, wine and bubbles, bare feet and bathers, family and friends, carols, candles and stars shining brightly in the clear, unpolluted heavens: it’s a glorious way to celebrate Christmas.

* with thanks to Google images. 

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A McDonald’s Christmas

Posted on 20 December 2012 by sheg4184

McDonald’s may not be everyone’s idea of a Christmas feast, but for twenty small street kids at  Tulay Ng Kabataan it is. Aged between three and fifteen, these twenty plus kids  moved earlier this year to a purpose built house with a small courtyard, and they think it is luxury. We visit them at TNK in Quezon City every Monday for two hours of activities,  to give the full-time teacher a break. Today was the Christmas party, and we were a larger group of visitors than usual, with the added bonus of dance instructor, Marvin, to show them some dance routines.

The courtyard had been simply decorated with brightly coloured, home-made decorations, and a rather spectacular Christmas tree made from second-hand books and ribbon. We added a string of balloons along the back fence, which unexpectedly burst from time to time, much to everyone’s amusement. The boys were dressed in their best, which included trainers for all. It was the first time we have seen them shod in anything but flip flops, and  a much wiser plan for dancing as it turned out.

Marvin started the boys off with a simple routine to ‘Gangnam Style’ which they joined in with vigour and enthusiasm, amazingly quick to pick up the steps. It is no myth that the Filipinos are naturally musical. These kids can really move to the music. A couple of us attempted some moves in the back row, but John Travolta we were not. Eventually the kids had exhausted even Marvin, so a group of older boys showed us a couple of dance routines they had devised themselves.  It was quite beautiful watching them and their gentle, flowing hand movements made my skin tingle. The judges of ‘You Think You Can Dance’ are looking in all the wrong places for new stars!

When even they had run out of steam, we sang some of their  favourite songs and played a few party games. They got highly excited by a round of Musical Chairs and showed an unexpectedly strong competitive streak. Eventually the McDonald’s delivery boy arrived and we set out simple plates of cheese burgers and chips, and rather flat coke, and the boys couldn’t have been happier with their Christmas feast.

Santa dropped in for a visit looking decidedly overheated:his red suit was stuffed with a huge cushion and his face was disguised under a long white wig and beard. Needless to say the older kids are quite familiar with Uncle Colin’s Santa, and peered behind his gold rimmed glasses just to confirm they were right.

An enormous Christmas chocolate cake brought by one of the volunteers was a huge success. The boys clapped and shrieked as Father Matthieu made quite a performance of cutting it into large pieces and we watched them promptly cover themselves up to their elbows in pink icing and chocolate-sticky-fingers. Santa awaited their arrival on his knee with understandable trepidation!

The small parcels they received from Mr. Claus contained a small car, a wallet and a pair of reflective sunglasses, and the whoops of delight must have been audible in Manila Bay. They posed like practiced celebrities with wide, chocolate-toothed grins and danced once more to ‘Gangnam Style’ in their very cool new sunglasses.

As we left them to finish off the monster cake, they farewelled us with thank you songs, broad grins and grubby hugs.

It was utterly heart-warming to see the enthusiasm and huge amounts of Christmas joy they radiated for a bite of McDonald’s and a pair of plastic sunglasses. Such simple entertainment and such small gifts, and yet such enormous appreciation for all that we did  reminded us all so clearly what Christmas should be about.

Wishing you a care free and loving Christmas…

 

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Hibiscus and a Piece of Heaven…

Posted on 14 December 2012 by sheg4184

Have you ever had a massage on a raft, two hundred metres off shore, while gentle waves lapped and slapped against the bamboo and a light breeze skipped through the calico curtains, fluttering and flirting against your bare skin, while the knots were kneaded from your back and shoulders?  Beneath your face is a peephole through bed and bamboo to allow you to watch Nemo and Dorey flicker past. It is blissful, and well worth the effort of a dawn start, a plane, a minivan and a boat to El Rio Y Mar.

“…The perfect haven for those seeking an escape from the urban jungle,” says the website. “Nestled in a beautiful tranquil bay with a breathtaking view of calm waters and rolling hills, the resort offers the perfect ambiance for romantic getaways.”

And a romantic getaway is just what we had in mind! We had been anticipating it for months. It was supposed to have been an anniversary trip in March, but we had never quite managed to get ourselves organized. We finally found a break in busy schedules in early December, just in time to celebrate the birthday of my One & Only. So there we were, slipping out of Manila at the crack of dawn, and giggling all the way to the airport like a couple of teenagers wagging school.

A small prop plane flew us to a remote air strip on Busuanga, buzzing all the way like an angry hornet. We were met with a tiny minivan designed for Hobbits and squeezed in for the half hour trip to the river, where we found a flat-bottomed boat waiting at the quay. Chugging down river between walls of mangroves bowing obsequiously, I felt as if we were aboard the African Queen. Eventually the river opened out onto a broad bay, and we could see our resort lying quietly unassuming at the foot of a dome shaped hill.

A gathering of staff members and a guitar player greeted us on the jetty, singing and clapping their welcome song. The One & Only was flinching with embarrassment, but for once I could do nothing but smile. We were presented with bright red mocktails and escorted down the jetty to our room at the far end of the sandy white beach.

Our room was a delight. With a bedroom –  and shower – looking out over the water that lay only a few metres from the door, it was cool and clean, well-finished and fresh, and accessorized with handfuls of red and apricot hibiscuses scattered around the bathroom and daintily arranged on the quilt.

On our first morning, waking just after sunrise, we were escorted up the hill behind the resort. We clambered cautiously, gasping and wheezing up the rocky, almost vertical path, the sweat pouring into our eyes, while our guide, shod only in flip flops, leapt ahead like a mountain goat, not even breathing deeply. Fortunately the views from the top were well worth the mammoth effort. Completely removed from motorways and shopping malls, concrete and cranes, the views to every horizon displayed only beaches and rivers, seas and lush green hills, with barely any sight of human habitation, besides a small barangay on the river bank below.

Our days were lazy and sleepy and blissful. The One & Only went snorkelling with the numerous varieties of fish circling the end of the jetty, but I prefer my fish on a plate and had a good enough view watching them over the edge of the railing, and listening to the thud-thud-thud of small outriggers, like pond skaters, skimming over the waves. Later we snoozed beside the pretty infinity pool fringed with hibiscus, and indulged ourselves at the spa with facials and foot massages.

As the sun set in a peachy pink haze we rose from our veranda and wandered along the jetty for a Gin & Tonic at the Port Caltom Reef Bar, delighted with an extravagant display of stars splashed across the evening sky. Dinner was served at our own small table on the beach, lit with three small oil lamps and only feet from the sea. Digging our toes into the sand, we chatted and nibbled peacefully, listening to the waves lapping softly, like the world breathing.

It was an utterly simple and really special weekend away. The staff was delightful and gently unobtrusive: we were greeted warmly at every turn, but never fussed over unless we asked. The chef was spectacular, turning out quality, fresh food at every meal, whether we ordered Nasi Goreng, Pancit Canton or pizza – or the best crispy chips I’ve had in a long time – and all at reasonable prices. And the special surprise they arranged for the Birthday Boy was really touching: a cheesecake iced in blue writing, while the staff, two guitarists (and the Birthday Boy’s gorgeous wife) serenaded him with the Happy Birthday song…

Check out the website if you would like to share a little bit of heaven: http://www.elrioymar.com/index.html

 

 

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War Games!

Posted on 11 December 2012 by sheg4184

Do you, like me, often find yourself wondering what to do with your teenagers over weekends and holidays? Are you forever trying to find a reason to drag them away from computers and X-Boxes? Here is one way to keep them (and you) out of the house…

 GlobalGutz Paintball Club is apparently the fastest growing Paintball Club in the Philippines, with over 21 paintball fields and team building parks scattered all over the Philippines, but the closest one to us is Army Fun Club GlobalGutz Headquarters located at the Philippine Army Gymnasium Compound, on the corner of Lawton Avenue and Bayani Road just past McKinley Hill. Here you can play war games using paintball marker guns. It can be great entertainment for families, work colleagues, or teenagers in groups of six or more.

I arrived at the site with three teens in tow, to join a bunch of fourteen to sixteen year olds for a birthday party. The first thing our host asked me was whether I would like to have a go. ‘Why not?’ I said enthusiastically, but I held fire for round one to see how it went.

The boys were soon decked out in padded camouflage jackets and helmets with visors, in different colours for the different teams. I thought they might be rather warm in all that kit, but they really looked the part: tough and muscular and ready to fight. The Air Supply music was not quite in keeping with a bunch of broad-shouldered soldiers about to head into battle – Rambo theme music might have been more appropriate!

Before the boys were allowed to enter the course, they were encouraged to read the long list of ‘DON’Ts’. These included:

  • Don’t shoot out of moving vehicle
  • Don’t look down barrel of loaded gun
  • Don’t shoot yourself
  • No blind firing

Other points included a request to use common sense and a reminder that close range shots can be painful. I was already losing my initial enthusiasm.

Unmoved by my feeble second thoughts, the boys insisted on dressing me up and showing me how to hold and shoot the surprisingly heavy gun. The jacket was lighter than it looked but I took an instant dislike to the visor, which steamed up as soon as I pulled it over my face. I had to peer down at my toes to see where I was going. The ground was muddy and tree roots had a tendency to loom suddenly under my feet as I ran, lurching, for cover. Cowering behind a wooden fence I found myself petrified at the thought of raising my head, and having refused to do lunges at the gym, I found my thighs locked in a squatting position, where I couldn’t rise, and my only option was to fall backwards into the mud. “I am too old for this!” I thought, suddenly feeling my age, and ever-so-slightly panicky. I will admit right now that I am no soldier, I was not a bit brave, but the boys loved it, and comparing battle wounds afterwards is apparently half the fun. I could boast that I got shot in the head early on. They were right, close range shots are painful, but apparently you can live with a major head wound at GlobalGutz!

Issuing instructions fiercely at their team members, dodging and weaving between trees, shooting furiously at any glimpse of The Enemy, the boys stalked each other with the intensity of professional soldiers. All that killing practice on the PS3 and X Box was obviously a huge advantage. Meanwhile I quivered and steamed behind a tree, popping up occasionally to shoot madly at someone far less cautious than me. Wondering if it was ever going to end, I finally realized my team was being ushered off the course and I heaved myself upright and staggered desperately after them. The next time my trainer suggests lunges, I promise to submit willingly, in the meantime, anyone for a G&T and a massage?

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Felice Navidad

Posted on 4 December 2012 by sheg4184

…And then, that hidden tendency in all of us to behave like peevish expat princesses over  small molehills that are part of expat life anywhere is swept away by the joy and childlike enthusiasm of the Christmas season. News of Christmas bazaars of all shapes and sizes come fluttering through my inbox like confetti. Rockwell is aglow with orange fairy lights, while Bel-Air is bedecked in parols (traditional Filipino star shaped lanterns in red and yellow and white) hanging from every tree. Many homes are strung with a vast array of lights and decorations, and I have never seen so many Christmas trees in my life: in malls, in parks, in every store and restaurant and office and lobby. Not to mention the snow and reindeers and Siberian tigers, Christmas elves, Giant Santas, and, and, and…

In the Philippines, Christmas, or Pasko is the long-awaited time of the year when families get together, extra special when family members come home from working overseas. The Christmas season kicks in with the “Ber” months (SeptemBER, OctoBER, NovemBER..?), so by now, if you are not in the mood, you must be both blind and deaf to the decorations and muzak filling every shopping mall and department store. But don’t panic if you haven’t caught up yet, because the season continues well into January.

Filipinos are predominantly Roman Catholic, and the Philippines is the largest bastion of Christianity in Asia, so it is hardly surprising that Christmas is a Really Big Deal here.  It is a time for family, fiestas and food, gifts and, of course, religion.

Religious observances at Christmas begin with December 16 and the Novena, or nine dawn masses known as the Misa de Gallo (Rooster’s Mass in Spanish) or Simbang Gabi (literally, Night Mass in Tagalog). After the service, communicants will snack on puto bumbóng (a purple, sticky rice cake steamed in bamboo tubes, buttered and sprinkled with brown sugar and shredded coconut ) and bibingka (rice flour and egg-based cake) while sipping on coffee, salabát (ginger tea) or tsokoláte (a thick, Spanish-style, hot chocolate) that are sold at stalls outside the church.

Christmas in the Philippines is a real halo halo of Filipino and western traditions, but the one we all recognize is the need to be with family. As December 24th dawns, the last Novena mass is attended; then preparation begins for Noche Buena, when families feast together after Midnight Mass on queso de bola (Edam cheese sealed with red wax) tsokoláte, pasta, fruit salad, pan de sol (Filipino bread rolls), relleno, lechon or hamón (Christmas ham). Christmas Eve is a night without sleep and a continuous celebration right through to Christmas Day.

The Misa de Aguinaldo is a service celebrated on December 25, and is usually attended by the whole family. The centre of any family gathering is lola, or grandmother, the family matriarch, and Christmas day is also a time for children to pay their respects to their grandparents and godparents.  This is known as Pagmamáno and it is performed by lifting the elder’s hand to one’s forehead, while saying the phrase ‘Mano Po’ (‘your hand, sir’). The elder then blesses you, and in return gives Aguinaldo, or crisp new bank notes. It is a day of family togetherness, and everyone wishes ‘Maligayang Pasko’ (Merry Christmas).

Christmas ends with Epiphany. More commonly known as Three Kings’ Day in the Philippines (Tres Reyes in Spanish or Tatlóng Harì in Tagalog), it was traditionally commemorated on January 6 but is now celebrated on the first Sunday after the New Year. Children leave their empty shoes out in expectation of small gifts.

In some regions, the season may even be extended until the Feast of the Santo Niño de Cebú on the third Sunday of January. The Santo Niño de Cebú, or Holy Child of Cebu, is a Filipino statue of the Child Jesus reminiscent of the Infant Jesus of Prague. The statue was originally brought to the Philippines by Ferdinand Magellan and given to Rajah Humabon and his wife Humamay in 1521.  Measuring only twelve inches tall, it is claimed to be the oldest holy statue in the country. The Santa Niño gained prominence when it miraculously survived a parish fire in 1565. It is now housed under bulletproof glass at the Basilica Minore del Santo Niño in Cebu City, clothed in lavish robes and a gold crown, donated by devotees from both the Philippines and abroad.

A Belen, or Nativity scene, is usually found in houses, churches and even business establishments. It shows the infant Jesus laid in a manger being watched over by Mary and Joseph. Some also include the Magi with their gifts, shepherds, animals and angels. The manger should be empty until Christmas Day, when an image of the baby Jesus is placed in it to signify His birth.

Christianity came to the Philippines with the Spanish in the sixteenth century, and with them, too, came a plethora of new dishes previously unknown to this Pacific archipelago. These ‘foods of the conqueror’ often assumed a dignity they did not possess in Spain, as they had to be made with ingredients imported from half way round the world (either Spain or Mexico). This also meant they were often too expensive for the Filipinos to eat on a daily basis. Gradually, however, they crept into Filipino kitchens to be adapted into ‘fiesta fare’: food made only for Christmas and other special occasions. Spanish stews would become ‘a reckless combination of pork, chicken, beef, vegetables, chorizo, jamon China [and] morcilla’). Paella would be filled with ‘a luxurious mix of the local and foreign’, while rellenos became ‘anything that can conceivably be stuffed’. Rich elaborate desserts such as tortas imperiales (almond cake) and Brazo de Mercedes (a meringue roll filled with butter cream or custard) created ‘a repertoire of sweetness’ in Philippine cuisine.

Filipinos are notorious for their unadulterated joy in food. This is worth bearing that in mind when considering Christmas presents for Filipino staff, teachers, and neighbours.  Moving to a new country often brings with it the unexpected confusion of cultures clashing. So many strange questions can go through your head at each new encounter. What do you do when a casual acquaintance invites you to join him/her for lunch? Should you feel offended when guests turn up late for dinner? Should you take off your shoes when entering someone’s home? And not least is the issue of giving presents to staff at Christmas.

As expatriates in the Philippines, most of us are blessed with the luxury of household staff, from a driver and part time maid to full time housekeepers and cooks, yayas (nannies), gardeners and security guards.  Some of you are probably already acquainted with the Christmas bonus, when an extra month’s pay is handed out, preferably early in December, and certainly no later than December 24th.  For those living in a gated community, it can seem as if your purse is permanently open, not only personal staff, but rubbish collectors, laundry women, and postmen will expect a little extra at Christmas. If you aren’t so keen to pay cash in recognition of good service, again, food is always appreciated, and most supermarkets are full of pre-packed gift baskets filled with Spam and queso de bola and tins of fruit cocktail.

It is important that presents are beautifully wrapped, to show that a lot of thought and time went into each gift, and the more festive and beribboned the wrapping, the better. But don’t panic if you, like me, are liable to tie yourself in knots with ribbon and tape, as most malls and department stores have wrapping services at reasonable prices that add a lot glamour to even the smallest parcel. But don’t be disappointed if they don’t open your present in front of you. This is considered the height of bad manners in the Philippines, as it may cause embarrassment to both the giver and the receiver.

Filipinos love a party, and of course Christmas provides the perfect excuse for celebration and pageantry. Office parties abound in the weeks leading up to the holiday: colourful and elaborate, everyone is welcome. Kris Kringle, or Monita Monita, is a major part of the celebration, but fun and laughter is just as important.

So throw away those daily frustrations and get into the spirit of Christmas! There isn’t a better place to do it than Manila!

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How hard can it be?

Posted on 30 November 2012 by sheg4184

A posting to the Philippines was going to be a breeze. We had lived in SE Asia before, and loved it, so we were really excited to be moving back to the region. As an added bonus, we wouldn’t have to struggle to learn a new language, as, thanks to fifty years of American colonization, everyone speaks English. And yet, somehow, not a day passes when I am forced to recognize that my English is in a completely different ballpark to the Filipino variety. As I ask for a particular item, I watch their eyes glaze over, like a rabbit in headlights, and wait for the inevitable: “Out of stock, ma’am,” simply because they have not understood the word or expression I have used. Sometimes I flutter about, trying out different terms, and occasionally, by pure fluke, I pull the right one out of a hat. The glazed stare is replaced by a beam, and the object is found.

Sometimes it is amusing, more often frustrating, but never more so than when I am hungry and failing to communicate with waiting staff in a restaurant.

On his return from a long business trip, my One & Only and I visited a local café. It was a quiet day – we were the only customers – but there were probably half a dozen staff, all studiously avoiding us. We eventually found our own way to a table and began reading the menu. Eventually we were joined by a young waitress who seemed fluent in English. She took our order, brought us wine and water and all looked set for a happy reunion.

Minutes later my dream was shattered.

I had ordered carpaccio as a starter and barramundi to follow. The carpaccio duly arrived. “May I please have some bread with that,” I asked brightly, naively. There was a pregnant pause. “No ma’am,” our waitress stated simply, “we don’t serve bread with the carpaccio.” Three times I tried and failed to find a way to get some bread. “I realize it doesn’t come with the carpaccio,” I wheedled, ingratiatingly, “but may I have a side order?” I even offered to pay extra. “No ma’am,” she insisted, unyielding. “We don’t serve bread with the carpaccio.” By now I was desperate. I wanted that bread more than anything else, how hard could it be?  I am married to an Italian and there is always bread on the table!

I approached from a different angle and asked if there was any bread in the kitchen. “No ma’am”. “None at all??” I  squeaked.  “No ma’am.”  I felt like weeping with frustration, when my darling husband kindly intervened. ‘Excuse me, could you please turn around and look at the menu?” he asked the waitress, sweetly. She obliged him. “Now,” he said quietly, patiently, “do you see where you have potato and leek soup?” “Yes sir.” “And it comes with freshly baked bread?”  “Yes sir.” “We’d like some of that bread please.” The bread duly arrived. And with it, my barramundi.

It was a simple case of a different use of language getting in the way of service. She was right, they didn’t serve bread with carpaccio,  (and nor did she necessarily have the authority to over-ride that rule), but I felt like the King in A.A. Milne’s poem, The King’s Breakfast, begging the Jersey cow for butter, and being offered marmalade instead. It doesn’t happen often in Manila, but when, just occasionally, someone understands me, and finds a way to accommodate my absurd requests, they have a friend for life. And in the meantime, I am learning to find ways around the language barrier!

*With apologies to A.A.Milne & E.H. Shepard

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Passionately Organic

Posted on 25 November 2012 by sheg4184

Known in Manila as a ‘green’ chef, Sau del Rosario is one of Manila’s best-known, best-loved chefs. A native Kapampangan, Chef Sau is a passionate advocate for healthy, sustainable, organic ingredients and regional cuisine, so when I ask him to talk with me about the future of organic farming in the Philippines, he happily squeezes me into his whirlwind schedule.

A third generation chef, his interest in organic food began over 20 years ago, when he studied under Fulbright scholar, Gil Carandang, a pioneer in organic and macrobiotic farming in the Philippines and an advocate for using indigenous microorganisms as a tool for sustainable farming.

Chef Sau gained a degree in Hotel Management from UP Diliman University and went on, after a short stint in the States, to train under the guidance of Michelin Chef Christian Plumail of Restaurant L’Univers in the south of France. He then took a job at Le Divellec, an haute cuisine seafood restaurant in Paris before moving Shangai to open the stylish and popular restaurant Luna. This was followed by a role as Chef de Cuisine at Equinox in Singapore.

In 2005, Sau was tempted back to Manila to open M Cafe, Chelsea, and the Madison Grill. Then, in 2010 Chef Sau and his business partner Pacita (Chit) Juan opened Le Bistro Vert in Makati City, a restaurant espousing the benefits of organic food. They sourced many ingredients from local farmers and producers, with the underlying intention of educating their clients about sustainable, organic produce. Aware of the state of certification regulations, however, they were faced with the problem of ensuring the produce they bought was truly organic. The problem led Chit Juan to set up a small farm in Cavite in order to supply the restaurant with truly organic produce.

Chef Sau says that many farmers and consumers still fail to understand what ‘organic’ means. He calls it a ‘flexible terminology in the Philippines,’ but also believes it is simply a case of educating producers to ensure consumer protection from misrepresentation.

Chef Sau believes fervently that organic is not a trend, it is a choice, and the direction in which everyone is heading. Twenty years ago, it was almost impossible to source organic produce. Now, it is gradually becoming mainstream. In one interview he has been reported as saying ‘I grew up with a household that is always cooking healthy. People think organic food is only for rich people … but it’s for everybody.’ His inner city menus (his latest venture is Villa Café: Kapampangan cuisine with a twist in San Antonio, Makati City), his sideline as the signature chef with TourFlair, a food safari tour group that promotes regional Filipino cuisine, and his growing clout as a TV celebrity chef are all helping him to spread the word.

Chef Sau also wants to teach Filipinos about the health issues related to eating processed foods. Personal experience has taught him that eating properly can save lives. In a recent interview for the Manila Bulletin he stated: ‘people are becoming more aware about the food they eat. With a little more education, and dissemination of information, we will get there.’

* Excerpt from paper: “Regional food producers: the challenges of changing the shape of Filipino foodways, presented at the LCB Region Food Cultures and Networks Conference 2012.

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Christmas: a time for giving

Posted on 22 November 2012 by sheg4184

It’s mid-November and the shopping malls in Manila are filling up with Christmas trees, Santas and arctic animals, while the air vibrates with schmalzy Christmas songs. As we reach for our Christmas lists, you may think my title is stating the terribly obvious. Yet all too often, in the maelstrom of marketing and Christmas shopping, the true spirit of Christmas gets drowned out by muzak and spruikers, gaudy baubles and reams of environmentally unfriendly packaging.

Jennifer Wallum M.B.E. is one of Santa’s Christmas elves 365 days of the year. This generous, energetic English woman arrived in the Philippines thirty years ago and is now a firm fixture. I dropped in to her Makati home to find her sitting on a floor piled high with attractive boxes made from recycled packing crates and sugar cane stems.  Her living room, reflecting a lifetime of adventures, was an eclectic mix of Cambodian Buddhas and Indonesian masks, pots and urns, stained glass, glass cabinets, and a forest of occasional tables and armchairs. The thought of ever having to pack up all that memorabilia made me feel slightly queasy!

As I sat down beside her, I was immediately given the task of sticking small pieces of tape onto a set of boxes to delineate the different coloured dishes inside. It was fascinating just to sit back and listen to Jenny talk as I cut and pasted and coloured in. Jumping from one topic to another, assuming knowledge I didn’t have, pausing for a second to explain before racing on, it felt as if I was sitting beside the Energizer Bunny.  ‘Blithering on’ she calls it, but I loved it.

Passing me a pamphlet, she told me that everything I needed to know was contained on its pages, but I found I was just as interested in the personal story of this emphatic, expansive, and singular woman, who has spent her years in Manila, not as the archetypal expat, playing bridge and attending an endless round of coffee mornings, but displaying a humanitarian, pro-active patronage towards her host country that is utterly inspiring.

Jenny’s work began after the eruption of Mount Pinatubo devastated a vast region just north of Manila in June 1991. Amongst those most affected by the natural disaster were an indigenous tribe, the Aeta, reputedly the earliest inhabitants of the Philippines, who had been living healthy and happy lives in the forests and mountains of northern Luzon, wanting for nothing, and ‘ looked after by God’. Mining, deforestation, illegal logging, and slash-and-burn farming have all caused a steady decline in the Aeta population, but Pinatubo’s rivers of lahar swept them dramatically from the forests and a way of life they had enjoyed for thousands of years, and cast them adrift in the twentieth century.

So Jenny founded Entrepreneur Volunteer Assistance Charity Foundation (EVACF) in the wake of the Pinatubo disaster, to help preserve those indigenous Aeta communities that had been ravaged by the volcano. Jenny’s plan was to prevent the displacement and degradation of these people, to whom ‘civilization was more dangerous than the forests’ and to help them rebuild their lives. With this in mind, Jenny designed a logo to inspire hard work and self-determination:

  • The shining sun inspires positive thinking
  • The moon within the sun inspires the need for interaction to succeed.
  • The volcanic mountain, a powerful force, symbolizes strength and effort.
  • Six dots represent the major Philippine volcanoes and the eruption that created the need for EVACF.
  • Lapping waves represent the challenges of the rivers of hot lahar.
  • People holding hands, cooperating to withstand the forces of nature, supporting the old and infirm.

EVACF has been responsible for setting up micro-financing and training programs, educational scholarships and livelihood projects, for building schools and providing equipment. Unlike some charities, EVACF was carefully designed to avoid imposing its own standards on the Aeta, and the foundation would only provide help when requested by the elders of the community.  The plan was to allow the victims of Pinatubo to help themselves.

The most visible and visual project is the local pottery. Mt. Pinatubo ash glaze is made from’ the finest of fine ash’.  The completed stoneware is non-toxic, lead-free, microwave and oven-proof. It is sold in selected stores in Metro Manila to raise funds for Mt. Pinatubo livelihood projects and University scholarships for Aeta students, as well as helping to fund construction of the Traditional Origins Ethnic Education Schools (TOE2s) in remote Aeta settlements.

The selection of items available continues to grow: squat, cuddly teapots, (you will know what I mean when you see them); chunky espresso cups; various bowls and serving dishes; a deep, wave-rimmed pot for holding cooking utensils, a plant, or a bottle of wine on ice; a popular angel tea bag holder in the prettiest little gift box: an imaginatively curved dip platter, and a pineapple plate. Colours range from deep sea blue, to sandy brown, from antique white (like clotted cream) and a green reminiscent of Thai Celadon. There is a range of pottery tankards, salt and pepper shakers and an unusual milk jug and sugar bowl set. And, finally, Jenny has designed an amazing array of cards, including some very sweet Christmas cards for which those in the know are already queuing.

If you would be interested in helping EVCAF, from making a donation, to packing pottery, to actively participating in the livelihood projects, Jenny is always keen for more volunteers.  So visit the website: www.evacf.org or email Jenny directly on evacf_org@yahoo.com and give a little extra – and something of yourself – at Christmas.

 *Adapted from article published in ANZA Magazine December 2012.

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Sunday Markets: a new religion

Posted on 18 November 2012 by sheg4184

Weekend markets have long been popular sources of quality produce and family entertainment. In South Australia, the Sunday Farmer’s Market has become an almost religious experience, as pilgrims flock to meet the farmers, orchardists, fishermen, cheese-makers, bakers, and cooks who collect in a corner of the Wayville Showgrounds every Sunday (except during Show Week in September) to sell their wares, armed with their recycled shopping bags and trolleys.

Located at Goodwood, the Adelaide Farmer’s Market was originally set up by Zannie Flanagan in 2007, who had also established the highly successful Willunga Farmer’s Market in 2002. Over the past five years it has taken on a strong identity of its own. It is now home to between eighty and one hundred stallholders each week, and thus claims to be one of the largest regional markets in the southern hemisphere.  Open from 9am until 1pm, entrance is free, although there is a $3 charge for parking.The Market is a not-for-profit organisation to support the survival of small, South Australian family farms, agricultural diversity and fresh, regional and seasonal produce.

So don’t expect to buy everything you want every week, but enjoy the seasonal variety, and the novelty of finding something new to cook. Stallholders can – and will! – provide recipes, especially for those unfamiliar ingredients you have never seen before. Garlic scapes, for example, that look like knobbly alien tendrils and one new friend told me is fantastic for wrapping around fish before baking.  “Every grower will give you a recipe whether you want it or not!” laughs CEO, Amanda Daniel.

Stallholders are also learning to grow for the market: heirloom, exotics, and unusual varietals not found in Woolworth’s. A website – http://www.asfm.org.au/home.html- provides a map and a list of all the stallholders that is updated on a weekly basis. It also mentions highlights for the week and any favourite stallholders who will be absent.

Membership to the Adelaide Showground Farmers Market costs $62 a year, and entitles you, amongst other things, to 10% discount at all commercial Adelaide Showground Farmers Market stalls when you show your card, the opportunity to apply for a site at the market, and an annual parking permit for only $37.50.

I have intended to drop in for a visit every time I have been in South Australia (at least a couple of times a year), but feebly, I never quite made it out of bed early enough, or have been distracted by offers of brunch at my favourite café, Duthy’s. A trip to Adelaide earlier this month was essentially a business trip for Le Cordon Bleu’s Regional Food Conference in the Barossa Valley. So what better place to kick-start the conference than the regional farmers market?

Ten of us met Amanda just before the gates opened. She greeted us with boxes of pastries, and piles of fresh apricots and strawberries, and a list of rules and regulations for stallholders as long as your arm. Coming from Manila, where organic is still a ‘flexible terminology’ or, like its road rules, a mere suggestion, it is quite confronting to see such a strict list of requirements and authentication, even if it means maximum information and security for buyers that they are not being misinformed or misled.

At nine o’clock on the dot we heard the bell ring and watched a plethora of shoppers suddenly materialize out of thin air, and surge forward en masse through the gate, where moments before there had been a smattering of sedentary Sunday morning coffee drinkers gazing gormlessly into the distance. Ready, steady, go! The market was open for business.

The Adelaide Sunday farmer’s Market is lively and fun. A large area is under cover, housing mostly butchers and bakers and specialty products. There are banks of tables here too for gathering over coffee, and a section set up for kitchen demos and the Kids Club. This novel enterprise has been designed to promote market products, but also to teach kids about cooking and climate change, sustainability and life skills, and it is a huge success. I assumed it was a place to drop the kids while parents got on, undistracted, with the shopping, but in fact I saw plenty of parents taking up bench space too. And when the Kids’ Club session finishes at 10am, guest chefs move in to illustrate ‘how to use, prepare, store, and entertain with seasonal produce… [and] the story behind the food.’

While Amanda wants to put the emphasis on ‘shopping’ rather than entertainment, it is obviously a great place for a family outing. Coffee stalls abound, and everyone I spoke to has his or her favourite. And then of course there is all that food to examine and enjoy. Stallholders are happy for you to try before you buy, and many have samples on display. Fresh herbs, fresh chestnuts, bush tucker ice cream, wild seafood, grass fed lamb, cheeses, honeys and flowers from every region in the State: the Barossa Valley and the Fleurieu Peninsula, the Limestone Coast and the Adelaide Hills, the Murray River plains and Kangaroo Island. It is a cornucopia of produce, and Adelaideans must count their blessings to have such a heavenly market on their doorsteps.

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