A taste of Europe in Auckland

Summer has arrived in Europe, and for the first time since 2004 I'm not there. Not that June in Auckland is proving all that bad - the temperature gauge has crept up to 17 degrees celsius today and Sunday's forecast cold snap came to nothing. But I've still got itchy feet thinking of those fortunate souls sitting on olive-tree-shaded terraces in the south of France, devouring fat spears of creamy-white asparagus and contemplating the sparkling Med. I'm even envying Londoners, for whom a rare sunny June weekend brings the chance to head to one of the city's excellent parks armed with a picnic blanket, punnets of oversized, juicy strawberries and a chilled bottle of riesling.

Over the past couple of months I've been thrilled to discover that even though we're down under, we don't have to go without the gourmet treats Europe has to offer. My exploration of Auckland's markets and foodie shops has revealed many of my old favourites available in abundance here, thanks to the efforts of a growing number of importers. In London I bade an emotional farewell to plump, meaty Manzanilla olives, fearing we wouldn't meet again until my next visit to Europe - only to find them on the shelf at Sabato in Mt Eden. Sabato also stocks Leone, those gorgeous bronze-die-cast sweets found on bar counters throughout Italy, along with Italian licorice in pretty vintage tins.

At Nosh I've found reasonably-priced 00 flour for my pasta-making adventures, various cured meats such as serrano ham from Spain and prosciutto from Italy sliced to order, and marinated anchovy fillets. I'm going to thread these onto toothpicks with the aforementioned Manzanilla olives and some pickled chillies (also spotted at Sabato) to make the small-sized but big-flavoured tapa I enjoyed in San Sebastian in northern Spain. Over there it was excellent washed down with a glass of txacoli, the local fresh, young and slightly fizzy white wine. I'll have to think up a suitable wine match for it here.

Then there's the excellent French-themed farmers' market in Parnell, La Cigale. Their boxes of frozen Paneton croissants, which you prove and bake yourself at home, turn out just like the real thing - as if you'd just popped down to your local boulangerie in France. You can even buy the excellent French Bonne Maman jam at La Cigale to go with them.

The market feels a bit like a village market in France, with its gazebo-shaded tables laden with produce. You can get a freshly-grilled croque monsieur - the ultimate hangover cure - or a crepe to munch on while you peruse the wine shelves, which display an interesting variety of European wines.

Finally, macaroon success

This blog is supposed to be about eating away from home, but today I'm writing about macaroons, which I have been attempting to make at home. They're French, so I figure they have a place here. 


I've had a thing for proper macaroons since I first tried them at Laduree in the Printemps mall on a work trip to Paris a few years back. I don't have a sweet tooth but I do love contrasting textures in food. So these decadent treats, with their thin crunchy shells yielding to chewy insides and creamy fillings, occupy a high rank in my gastronomic top-10. Having eschewed the cupcake craze, this is one foodie bandwagon I've gleefully jumped aboard.


They're tricky little bastards though. Several attempts over the past few weeks have ended in disaster - cracked tops and spreading in the oven being the main issues (although the resulting "meringue biscuits" were yummy).


So you can imagine my delight yesterday evening when, after I'd all but given up on the damn things, Henry had a go and produced an almost-perfect batch on his second attempt. Ok, a few were cracked, but there were enough smooth-topped, crinkly-footed, perfectly round little marvels for me to assemble a baker's dozen of finished macaroons, held together with chocolate ganache. 

But I've now been upstaged in my own kitchen. This obviously won't do, so I'm more determined than ever to master the macaroon. Henry reckons my principal mistakes have been a) not beating the egg whites enough; b) not folding the mixture together thoroughly enough; and c) having the oven too hot. More thorough beating of the egg whites will solve the spreading problem. The folding is tricky - you don't want to over-fold and lose all the air in the mixture, but under-folding means the biscuits won't form a strong, smooth top. The mixture needs to be thick, but fairly runny and glossy too. And next time I'll try baking them on the conventional bake setting rather than fan-bake, which I'm hoping might eliminate cracked tops altogether.

Waiheke Island wine

I'm back in New Zealand, where mussels are the size of plum tomatoes and eight bucks worth does lunch for four. Where fish is just-caught, flavoursome and plentiful. And where wine, grown under the dazzling sun through languorous, never-ending summer months, jumps out of the glass, bursting with freshness and flavour.


Picking season is well underway down under and winemakers on Waiheke Island, a 40-minute ferry ride from downtown Auckland, are upbeat about the quality of this year's harvest - despite a fairly tough La Nina-influenced growing season.


Aromatic white and Bordeaux red varietals are widely planted on the island. Merlot and friends are not homesick as they inhale Waiheke's cooling sea breezes, sun themselves on its gently-rolling hillsides and dig their toes into the free-draining clay soil.

We visited a couple of the island's 30-odd wineries during a sunny early April weekend. Topknot Hill Wines produces a concise range from grapes grown on the east side of the island. Their tasting room shares premises with the Waiheke Island Brewery at the relaxed Wild on Waiheke complex, where you can have a casual lunch, play petanque, shoot a few clay birds or try your hand at archery between the rows of vines. The latter two pursuits are probably best attempted before a stint in the tasting room.


I liked their 2008 sauvignon blanc. It's always a nice change to drink sauv grown somewhere other than Marlborough. The regional differences are obvious. This racy number was like a summer fruit salad of grapefruit, apples and passionfruit with lime juice squeezed over.


Way over the other side of the island, the remote Man o' War winery must have one of the most relaxed little tasting rooms in the world. A converted caravan sits on a grassy clearing, surrounded by trees and with views out to the tidal flats and sea. You can do your tasting at a picnic table while enjoying the sunshine and view. There's even free sunscreen.

There were several really interesting wines on show here, including the 2010 Gravestone sauvignon blanc semillon. The 30% semillon component has been oaked, resulting in light smoke on the nose amid melon and apple aromas. 


Their 2008 Ironclad red is a blend of 52% merlot and 27% cabernet franc with malbec, cabernet sauvignon and petit verdot making up the rest. A quarter of it has been aged in new oak, predominantly French, with the rest in old barrels. Very firm tannins suggest it needs at least five years' more in the bottle, but there are beautiful ripe red berry and spice flavours coming through now. Decanter magazine's Steven Spurrier proclaimed it the best new world red in 2010 - an impressive achievement given the stiff competition it's up against.


If I had to pick a favourite I'd go for the 2010 Exiled pinot gris, grown on neighbouring Ponui Island. The grapes are a special clone with looser bunches, allowing later harvest. The result is a luscious, silky, medium-sweet wine with honeysuckle and tropical fruit flavours. Simply delicious.