Dinner was an immense success. I baked the side of salmon after marinating for a bit under a paste of minced garlic, mustard, lemon and tarragon, and it turned out flavourful and tender. With it I cooked one of my usual things, courgettes on high heat with sliced chilli and garlic, then tossed with mint and lemon juice and topped with toasted pine nuts. The Gentleman Friend made a leaf salad with it, dressed simply with olive and lemon juice. Two particularly high compliments were received. One was from the son of the house, a very choosy eater, who described it as being like something from his favourite pie shop. Though he then went and got a bowl of baked beans which he ate with a spoon, so I am not entirely sure what to make of it. The Winemaker thoroughly enjoyed it, and was particularly enthusiastic about the complex flavours tied together by lemon across the dishses. I must admit it was not my intended effect, more the general flavour palate I tend to use and preference for using what is in season and available, but given his taste and ability to detect flavour it felt high praise. With it we had a sparkling wine from his vineyard made like champagne but forbidden that name. I must say, it was nicer than any champagne from Champagne I have ever had; almost colourless and very smooth on the palate.
The next morning we packed and then Bloddeuwydd took us down to the excellent Dutch bakery where we bought some snacks for the ferry ride to Wellington. Then we loaded the Winemaker’s car and left for Picton.
It is a lovely family, and they have made a rather idyllic life for themselves, leaving the City of London early in a pair of highly successful careers to an old house in a small New Zealand town where they keep bees, grow their own produce, barter for olive oil, and raise some very delightful children. They are all very bright, interested and interesting people. But once again New Zealand reminds of Faiz: laut jati hai udhar ko bhi nazar kya keejiye. I could never live that life.
The ferry ride out of the Sounds and into Wellington was almost as beautiful as reputed. ‘Almost’ because it was a little chilly and very grey, the remnant of a cyclone. I saw a very large bird, like an eagle but with wings like a gull, and later learned it was probably an albatross. At one point dolphins sailed alongside the ferry but I didn’t see them.
We sailed into Wellington harbour where the Doyenne was waiting to collect us, for the final leg of our stay in NZ. She is the oldest in her family, and great in dignity, though frazzled by illness – Parkinson’s as well as arthritis. I had always thought she would be an intimidating presence, but instead found her pleasant and open and interesting. And understanding of our relief at being back in a city after nearly three months in small towns and countryside (excluding my time in Pakistan).
Soon after our arrival, her son Yerbouti and his daughter arrived. Yerbouti lived in London a good long while and was instrumental in the GF’s musical development, so it was fascinating to meet him. I had thought at first he might be one of slightly judgemental music snobs, but was definitely an enthusiast as well, delighted to share and be open to the art and music and comics he loves. We (excluding the Doyenne) went for a walk through the Botanical Garden, past a Henry Moore statue and some wedding photography, and it was very pleasant indeed though he may have left under the impression I am a rock collector. His daughter was quiet but had sudden spurts of teenage identity assertion, such as the moment she announced that she didn’t like rock music.
After they had left, and after dinner, the GF and I walked into town, through a scenic graveyard (like seemingly everything in Wellington holding on for dear life to the side of a hill) and enjoyed being amidst lively, diverse, stylish people. We ended at Fidel’s, a cafe recommended to us, but decided to get a Tim Tam Cake to take away and called a car instead of walking back nearly vertically uphill. The cake was good, we have a room and bathroom to ourselves, life is good in a city sometimes.