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As predicted, it's been a bumper year for walnuts at Struan Farm. I've been picking them up the last three weekends. This past one with the rain I was only able to gather a small percentage of what is waiting for me--literally hundreds have fallen over the past week and are yet to be collected!
We've got three trays drying in the Homestead already. I'm starting to feel a bit like a squirrel.
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It was rainy at Struan Farm over the weekend, which gave me time to try out several more quince recipes, including Nigel Slater's Roasted Quince recipe and Deborah Madison's Poached Quinces in Syrup from her "Local Flavors" cookbook. Both recipes are publicly available on the internet.
Given the work involved in cutting and peeling them, I asked John to be my "sous chef" to assist with that part of the process. While he grumbled a wee bit, he did a great job in far less time than it would have taken me.
Et Voila:
The Roasted Quince recipe really didn't take that long to make once the fruit was prepped, and it is seriously delicious! The combination of cloves and star anise, along with maple syrup gives it a spicy, autumnal comfort. One of the better desserts we've had in a long time.
The Poached Quinces in Syrup are good, not as spicy. They keep for up to two months in the fridge, and are the sort of thing that would be good with yogurt and muesli for breakfast.
We're definitely ordering some trees for planting in June after this revelation. Next I'm going to try making quince (not apple)sauce.
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The actor William Shatner, aka "Captain Kirk," is currently touring New Zealand with a one man show. I laughed out loud at the television ad for his show, which leads with the tag line "I don't want you to know me, I want you to know My Version."
In many respects, John thinks this is what I'm doing with this blog. Showing you what I want you to see about our life and the landscape at Struan Farm. He's amazed my photographs look so beautiful, thinks somehow they are my "romanticized" version of Struan Farm and somehow less than "real."
My response to this is that the camera doesn't lie, and that he tends to overlook the beauty surrounding us because it's what he's grown up with (except when it comes to the trees in the Pet Paddock, of which he is in constant amazement).
Yes, photographs are also a reflection of the photographer. I'm wanting to show the beauty of Struan Farm to anyone who might appreciate it. Plus we all want romance, don't we? Even if it's not in a galaxy far, far away.
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Our friend Margaret recently attended a reception John & I hosted at the Papakura Museum for the launch of their new "Friends of Papakura Museum" initiative. Margaret has been reading my blog (by stealth it would appear) and she queried me how one books to stay at Struan Farm.
Right now we're just taking bookings by private arrangement for weekends, since (truth be told) we're not officially open full time as yet. Our website is under construction, I'm busy taking photographs for all that. Sheena Smith, our designer from Red Impressions, has just had a new baby. We're relaxed about our time line.
But Struan Farm's cozy, comfortable, self contained three bedroom cottage is ready to receive guests now and has been doing so. We (just) haven't finished the exterior work on the main Homestead as yet or the work on the property surrounds (new fencing along the road, new entrance and gate, signage, renovation of the pool area, maintenance on the Old Road, pruning trees, etc. etc. etc.).
The Mangaotaki River is there, waiting to be fished and kayaked:
The rolling hills and limestone formations are there, punctuated by sheep, waiting to be admired, photographed, and/or wandered, although I can't promise total cooperation from the sheep:
The Old Road is waiting for an easy stroll, along with our stands of QE2 Trust protected native bush:
The Pet Paddock trees are waiting to be hugged:
And last but not least, Clifford is lolling around, waiting to be fed and/or petted, this I can promise you:
So we're happy to have you come and stay at Struan Farm. Just understand that we're still a work-in-progress. But there's alot on offer, we love to have people experience our corner of paradise in Piopio.
For the time being the best way to make arrangements to stay with us is either to visit the splash page at Struan Farm, which has our email address, or leave a comment here with your email address and I will contact you if that's easier. Your details will remain confidential. But definitely come visit us!
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I've started to experiment with quince from Anna's orchard, mostly to see if we should plant a tree or two at Struan Farm this winter.
Two weeks ago the NZ Herald's Viva section published an article on the fruit and several recipes, which can be found here. This confirms my suspicion it's in contention for "fruit du jour."
I started with the recipe for "Baked Quince with Rhubarb, Ginger, Orange & Rum" from this article. I learned quite quickly they are not particularly user friendly when trying to quarter and core them. It took strength and dexterity to avoid major blood letting: the fruit is quite firm, to put it mildly. I began to wonder if I was overdue to sharpen my chef knives!
Once that was done the rest of the recipe was easy, although the instructions were to bake it for THREE hours covered with baking paper, CHECKING FREQUENTLY. Not sure how many people have three hours to hover around the kitchen, but that wouldn't normally be me.
When baked I found the dish just okay. While I liked the cooked texture of the fruit, I found this recipe a bit bland for my taste given the time and effort involved. I have since found different recipes by English chef Nigel Slater (Roast Quinces with maple syrup and star anise, found here) and American chef Deborah Madison (Poached Quinces, with cinnamon and cloves, found here) that look to be closer to what I envision would work well. Australian chef Bill Granger also mentions roasting them simply with butter and good honey.
What I've learned thus far about and from quince is that you must work with this fruit on its terms, in its own time (hours). It's alot like me, really. And for someone who's been rushing around way too much lately, it has been put on my path for this reason. I will take some time to learn this lesson. We can decide about the trees in due course.
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I usually try to keep acquisitions to my stash of knitting yarn pretty hush hush. I'm married to a Robertson after all.
But this Fleece Artist hand dyed Blue Face Leicester DK is so beautiful, the three colorways are so vibrant, that I had to share:
I was intending to play with these for Inspira, we'll see how that goes.
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Anna came by Struan Farm this past weekend to show an American visitor around and deliver a supply of quince from her orchard for me to play with. I"ll post on my experiments as they occur.
On my drive back on Sunday I stopped first at Piopio's monthly market, which is held on the third Sunday of every month (fresh figs and new season honey, yum). Next I stopped at Piopio Orchard, to pick up what are probably my final stash of this season's blueberries (major sob). Enroute I also stopped at Waitomo Orchard, where they were featuring new season organic Royal Gala apples and pears (both relations of the quince):
In case anyone has forgotten, it's that time of the year when Mother Nature really delivers.
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Driving down to Piopio this past Saturday I listened to National Radio's Kim Hill interview visiting Australian architect Ric LaPlastrier. You can find and listen to the interview from 19 March here. He spoke about his work, which is inspired by the Australian landscape and focused on simplicity and sitting lightly on the land. He distinguished between the use of "cold" materials like steel and concrete vs. "warm" materials like wood, preferring the latter. At one point Kim asked him about the Australian equivalent of the Kiwi "bach," traditionally a rather rustic but much celebrated retreat.
Ric indicated that the Aussie equivalent is called a "shed," commenting that he liked this word since it means "to get rid of."
I had never connected the dots and made this otherwise obvious connection between the structures we call sheds, their simple style, and their purpose. So when I got to Struan Farm this gave me reason to take some photographs of (just a few) of our many sheds:
We still need to shed more stuff from these sheds, but this interview gave me a fresh perspective.
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I've been driving past this sign on the side of an old shed in Te Kuiti for years now:
I just love it, it speaks to me. This past weekend Clifford and I stopped on our drive back to Auckland to take the picture above. I'm sorely tempted to knock on the door of the closest house and offer to buy it if they ever were interested in selling it, particularly since it looks like it's been quite awhile since hens populated this chicken house.
I can see it in my kitchen, also maybe above the door of our chook house eventually. I'm a dreamer, I know!
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I approach the subject of John's grandfather Sir Carrick Robertson with some trepidation and great respect.
To lay the groundwork, best I stick to published information available on the internet:
Carrick Hey Robertson was born in Glascow in 1879, the son of Mr. and Mrs. Blair Robertson. He was educated at St. Dunstan's College and Guy's Hospital. In 1902 he took the London M.B. and in 1903 the B.S. The following year he gained the F.R.C.S.Eng. After qualifying he spent a year in Pietermaritzburg, Natal, and then went to New Zealand in 1905, where he spent the rest of his life. For five years Robertson was medical superintendent of Waihi Hospital, and after that began to establish his position as a surgeon in Auckland. Two years before the First World War he was appointed to the honorary staff of Auckland Hospital, a position he held until 1937. He was also closely associated with the Mater Misericordiae Hospital, Auckland, as first senior surgeon and subsequently as chief of staff. Robertson served with the New Zealand Expeditionary Force in 1915 and 1916, and later took a prominent part in the treatment and rehabilitation of wounded soldiers. A leading figure in the medical profession of New Zealand, he was at one time president of the New Zealand Branch of the BMA. Robertson was the first New Zealand honorary fellow of the Association of Surgeons of Great Britain and Ireland, and he was also an honorary fellow of the American College of Surgeons.
Carrick Robertson was knighted in 1929 for his services to medicine, and shortly after that France made him a Chevalier of the Legion d'Honneur.
Shortly after he settled in New Zealand he married Constance Maxwell-Hibberd (the daughter of Mr. C. Maxwell-Hibberd of Jersey, former Postmaster General of Natal); they had three sons and one daughter. Lady Robertson died in 1950. Sir Carrick remarried in 1957, and died at the age of 84 in 1963.
Sir Carrick was the first surgeon to treat neurosurgical cases routinely in New Zealand. He was called "Mana" by his family and lived in "Rannoch," a grand Arts & Crafts house a short distance from the Mater Hospital. The house still overlooks the motorway in Auckland today, now home to The James Wallace Arts Trust and some of its collection.
Sir Carrick was also known to be an avid naturalist, with a particular interest in the moa, a now extinct flightless native bird. By all accounts he was larger than life, an imposing figure who did incredible things.
He features in Michael Belgrave's excellent history "The Mater, A History of Auckland's Mercy Hospital 1900-2000" (published by Dunmore Press Ltd.).
At Struan Farm we have the dining table from Rannoch in the Knitting Studio, as well as a matching carving table:
Each chair has a different angel face carved below:
There's also an elaborate silver stand with crystal decanters for liquor that came to us via Maurie (it locks, presumably so the servants couldn't pinch the whiskey!). I have tried to research what the phrase "Parum Gratias Ago" engraved across the front means, with little luck. Any Latin scholars out there who can help? My rough guess is "Too little on account of some time ago," but there must be a better way of translating that into a proper expression of thanks/appreciation.
Sir Carrick used to wear bow ties. My favorite picture of John as a young child is a formal black & white photograph for which, according to his mum, he insisted upon wearing a "bow tie like Mana." So there are echoes of Sir Carrick around us every day at Struan Farm; they help to keep the family history and his achievements alive.
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Sometimes I try to realize when I'm about to fall off the cliff and stop myself from doing so. When several of my knitting friends wanted everyone to "knit for Christchurch," I wanted to, I really did.
But I've had too many balls in the air, and they aren't balls of yarn. I've donated to the Red Cross and Salvation Army to support rescue and relief efforts in a meaningful way, and thought that was probably all I could realistically do right now given our personal logistics, a new job, sick dog, etc. etc. Not enough hours in the day or night.
But then I started to feel what I thought was guilt. Seriously. These are friends who helped the past two years with "Baby Beanies for Otara." They've closed ranks to help another friend going through a major family crisis-- actually she is going through two rather critical life challenges at the same time and needs all of the support she can get. They cook casseroles, send flowers, actually call in. I can only send thoughts and prayers and wish I could do more, be a better friend. (Sometimes I just think I'm terrible for not being able to do things like this too.)
So suffering pangs, I dug into the stash to see if I could find any red and/or black to knit something quick for Christchurch. I found some Manos del Uruguay Wool Clasica in colors 08 and 115, the latter a beautiful cherry red with kettle dyed varigation. I used the "Mistake-Stitch Ribbing" from Barbara G. Walker's "A Treasury of Knitting Patterns" (the first book with the blue cover). It's quick and good for a scarf, is what I'm using for a cushion/pillow for the Knitting Studio.
I've tried to let go of guilt trips entirely given a mother who made them an art form, and thought I'd pretty much liberated myself from them in recent years. In this case I think I've succumbed to conscience, not guilt, but I've had to check to make sure:
Guilt: feelings of culpability especially for imagined offences or from a sense of inadequacy.
Conscience: the sense of the moral goodness of one's conduct, intentions or character together with a feeling of obligation to do right or be good.
I've made a scarf to keep someone warm in Christchurch, the least I can do as a knitter. So in this instance I think I'm reacting more to a feeling of obligation to be good and do right rather than from a sense of inadequacy, although there's probably an element of that at play as well. Not sure where this leaves things with my mother, but guess we're all dealing with that one, aren't we?
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This past weekend I cleaned out the tomato plants in the garden at Struan Farm, it was time. I'm starting to think about putting in silver beet (swiss chard), rocket (arugula), and kale.
We grew two heirloom varieties this year that did really well: Black Krim and Black Cherry. I hadn't tried the latter before, but they were excellent. They are like Black Krim, quite meaty with good flavor.
Here's the final plate of the season, ta da:
I'll check the Kings Seeds catalog to see if seeds are available for next season.
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Last week I picked up the April issue of Homes & Antiques magazine, which is published by the BBC. Not one I regularly read, but I bought it because there was an article about making tiered cake stands from recycled china plates and egg cups, also cheese domes.
Yep, I've hit the op shops and will be cracking out the silicone sealant once again!
Raw materials standing by:
The one above will be 50's retro, the one below more tea party traditional:
In their sample they started with a huge base plate and built three more tiers up to a tea cup and saucer on top, so I guess it depends on what you can find.
In this same issue was an article about people making unique items for sale out of reused, old goods, a practice that has been coined "Upcycling." This is a new one on me, much as I do try to stay ahead of the curve. Information on these artists and their work can be found here, and yes, they have a Facebook page too.
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Jane from Collectamania in Ohaupo remembers my penchant for All Things Knitting and keeps an eye out. I stopped by for a quick browse on my way to Piopio this past weekend, and she told me that she'd been keeping this for me:
Who would have guessed there was a "Knitting Song," in addition to our secret handshake? This was the cover of a book of piano music, must date back to WW2, I'll get it framed for Struan Farm Knitting Studio.
p.s. also found twelve of these Crown Lynn plates from Hotel Nelson. John and I got married in Ngatimoti, outside of Nelson, it's a place that I love. I'll have to query the history of the hotel. Crown Lynn is highly collectible, and I like the shape of the plates, they'll get used.
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I had time during a lunch hour this past week to poke around an antique shop in the Auckland CBD, one where I usually go in search of vintage buttons every few months when in need of a mental health break. The real finds this time around were some vintage linens, including this lovely embroidered tablecloth with ladies in bonnets on the corners:
Jane Brocket writes about them in an essay in her wonderful book "The Gentle Art of Domesticity" , and has photos of different versions, so I think they're meant to be somewhat iconic. She calls them "crinoline ladies," they were made using iron-on transfers.
I was happy to stumble upon this so soon after reading Jane's book. And yes, I did score two buttons:
I know, my names don't start with "N" but it was too pretty to pass up.
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Our "Flatto" peach tree arrived for planting this week at Struan Farm, along with a self-pollinating "All in One" almond tree we've decided to test. Thank you, Mapua Country Trading!
The peach went up to our main orchard area by the new house site, John planted it on Sunday after Clifford and I left, while the almond tree was planted in the Pet Paddock where the walnut and chestnut trees reside.
Since they're not bare root trees they can be planted now. I'm still thinking about a quince, but since those are bare root stock that decision can wait until June.
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It doesn't take much to make me happy.
Really: gathering walnuts in the Pet Paddock at Struan Farm in the late afternoon sunlight, watching Clifford frolic with his fluffy tail waving in the breeze, and my husband riding around on his mower.
I am very thankful for these simple joys in my life, and praying for the people in Japan and Christchurch.
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I was afraid that my blog posts this week were going to be thin on the ground.
Clifford (okay, the one who is sometimes a drama queen) was rushed to the vet at the end of last week. He got sick after eating his dinner, with complications I won't go into in detail. He seems fine now, but they're still trying to sort out what was, or is, wrong. He's lost quite a bit of weight the past month. We've had him on the South Beach Diet since he was too heavy, but now the situation is reversed, so much so that it's a cause for concern along with what happened.
I broke him out of the vet's on Friday night on the promise that I'd scoop up samples needed for further tests. He's on special food and will go back today for follow up. His blood and urine tests were fine, they're now suspecting a parasite or worm of some sort. John and I think his kibble might have gotten cooked in our very hot laundry room, where it's stored in a black plastic rubbish bin. We're going to get him new food and store it elsewhere, just in case this is what caused the problem.
Clifford and I travelled down to Struan Farm late morning on Saturday once I established that he was keeping food down and acting like his normal self. He promised to stay away from possums and rabbits as part of the deal.
We hit a snag when we got to Piopio: the road had been closed since early a.m. due to an accident involving an oil tanker, right near Paemako Scenic Reserve just up from the farm.
So we went to see our friends at The Fat Pigeon and Piopio Orchard to kill some time. Fortunately I also had one of my knitted pillow projects with me in the car. Inframax opened the road at 4 p.m., I was the first car to drive down, happy that we hadn't gotten up early or we would have been waiting all day.
Kids, yikes.
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Okay, we've cheated a wee bit on the John's Hut project. After an attempt on my part to strip and re-paint the recycled hooks from Piopio Primary School for our tool rack, I decided there might be an easier, more elegant solution to have them back to looking their best. I took them to Eden Electroplaters in Auckland, where they were cleaned and shined back to the base metal.
They can now be installed on the rack where they'll age to a lovely dull patina:
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Amongst other things on the go lately, I've finally started the needlepoint cushions for our rimu pew.
I'm realizing it's quite a project I've taken on here: two cushions, each of about four feet in length, that are meant to look the same with a huge range of colors, some quite similar. There's also a difference between the actual painted canvas and the original artwork by Piopio artist Jo Gallagher, and we picked yarn colors from the original artwork, which is much more varied (and more interesting from my perspective, so I want to use that as my reference point).
So I'm having to do the same colors on both canvases at the same time, referring to the original screened artwork. Also, given the subtle variations in color (especially the greens), I need to spread out all of yarns to make sure I'm working with the right color.
It's not a terribly mobile project, but one that when it's done it will be incredible.
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