Last night we were awoken by torrential rain being powerfully blown against our windows, sounding much like nails hitting the panes. I checked the weather online this morning, and the temperature with wind chill ‘feels like 1 degree C’ advising us to ‘wear 4 layers of clothing to remain comfortable outside’.

Despite the cold, I have had unseasonal cravings for strawberries for the last week.

When browsing food books, websites and magazines, I have found myself drawn to anything with strawberries in. Last week, a punnet of out of season strawberries from Australia found their way into my shopping basket. Just yesterday, I found myself buying a big bag of frozen strawberries.

Andy thinks it’s because, after 30 months of living in New Zealand, I am still on a UK schedule. Given the Wimbledon tennis tournament is current playing, maybe he is right!

Today I gave in to my craving again, and whipped us up a strawberry & vanilla drink. We are drinking it with our heating on high for now, but I will be sure to make it again next summer. For now though, it does feel nice and refreshing, compared to the wintery foods we have otherwise been consuming.

Take:
Two cups frozen strawberries
Juice of a whole lemon
A good squirt of agave syrup
Beans from a whole vanilla pod
A couple of cups water

Put everything in the blender, and pulse to start. Gradually speed up until you have created a light, frothy drink. Taste a little, and add more agave syrup to taste. Decant into your finest large glasses. Serves 2.

For a while I found myself being so serious.
Wanting to do things 100% or not at all.
Having trouble motivating myself to just do what I can.
I found I was not giving myself a break.

I like to cook, so I was cooking from big, hefty cookbooks.
I like to write, so I was stewing over how to keep that motivation running, but not to tie myself to a desk 24/7. And then, I wanted to write something good.

I like to take photos, but the weather was so cold, wet and windy, that I couldn’t get comfortable enough to fall into my zone of inspiration.

All that pressure!

When I was ill last week, I realised that what I had been missing was the fun in life! I’d let everything become so serious! Contracted, maybe, like my cold muscles in the winter weather.

This week I have tried to lighten up a little, and give myself time and space to just breathe. To freely surf the web, without berating myself for the time I have passed on it. There’s so much inspiration out there, after all!

So, I have cooked makeshift out of whatever we had in, including a rocket – walnut pesto pizza, topped with roasted cherry tomatoes, red onion and provolone. Andy has been doing the same, making mini-chicken pies in a muffin tin, using the left over meat from last weekend when we hosted a mid-winter Christmas.

I have been noticing the light in our apartment and playing around visualizing the frames I could make with my camera, indoors, where the heaters are on.

When planning a little getaway, all I could think was what fun we might have in Auckland, rather than down South. Where we could go out and just laugh and have fun, rather than take a quiet, contemplative trip.

Don’t get me wrong ~ I love fancy food and passing hours preparing it. Just not every night. I love quiet trips out into the country, just not every time.

I just think I got so stuck in being a certain way. Single minded and too ambitious. For the last few days, I’ve been more present in myself and enjoying the every day (like the cute little birds who hung out with me yesterday, as I ate my bagel down by the harbour, their beaks shining in the winter sun).

*** Rocket Pizza with Roasted Tomatoes and Onion.

1 organic wholewheat pizza base
About 4 large handfuls of wild rocket
A good handful of chopped walnuts
A healthy glug of extra virgin olive oil
A couple handfuls or so of sweet cherry tomatoes
1 red onion
Fresh thyme and oregano
A couple handfuls shredded provolone piccante
Chili flakes

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit
Wash the tomatoes and slice the red onion into small chunks. spread them in a baking tray and drizzle with olive oil and season with some salt and pepper.
Pop the baking tray in the oven for 15-20 minutes.
Zizz together the rocket, walnuts and olive oil using a hand-held immersion blender.
Add the herbs and stir through.
Spread the pesto over the pizza base, nice and thick.
Place the tomatoes and onions evenly over the pizza.
Sprinkle the provolone and chili flakes over the top and bake for 10 minutes.
Whip it out of the oven, and serve with a mixed green salad with a raspberry and red wine dressing.

Easy & satisfying after another stressful day in the office!

I’ve been feeling kinda trashy lately.

On Wednesday lunchtime I picked up the latest Evanovich novel, and was done by Thursday night. On Thursday evening when walking home, I felt so very tired that for the second time in as many weeks, I wondered if Andy might come find me on the streets of Wellington, pick me up and take me home. The next morning when I awoke, I found the merest thought of walking the thirty minutes it takes, just exhausting. I’ve been feeling this way for weeks, but not giving in. Giving in to what? I asked myself. Giving in to taking care of myself?

So, I stayed home on Friday. I lay in bed for hours, staring at the daisy yellow ceiling. I thought about dusting the light off. I flicked the television on and lay gawking at the screen, watching an old episode of Rachel Ray. I was fascinated by her savory French toast with andouille and peaches. Come afternoon, I transferred myself to the couch. And I watched back to back episodes of Las Vegas.

If I were well enough, I would have been hauling myself down the road to CommonSense Organics, picking up some chookens and other ingredients for the Mid-Winter Christmas we were hosting on Saturday. But it just wasn’t happening. My legs were tired, my brain was tired. I couldn’t move.

Andy recounted to our friends yesterday evening: “When I came home on Thursday night and asked what’s for dinner? I was told ‘Beans. Get it yourself’.”
I have seriously been that tired and grumpy. However, making beans on toast was also too much for Andy, so he ordered in pizza.

So yes, whilst watching back to back episodes of Las Vegas from the couch, still in my pajamas, I also ate Andy’s left over pizza from the fridge.
Traaaaassshhhhhhy.

(But so good).
(Just every once in a while).
(Mmm Mmm).

For so long now, I have felt tired when hearing other nationalities criticizing the English. As though there were one sort of us. I used to listen to it all, and it occurred to me that slowly, I was becoming distant from where I was from. I could indeed see the bad in the country where I was born.
Before I left to move to New Zealand with Andy, I felt relieved to be leaving, thinking I’d be leaving it all behind. It turns out not. I have heard much criticism of England and the English since arriving.
I have spoken with a friend many times about this. How I felt that I couldn’t fully embrace myself, without accepting my home country. Without being able to deflect the negativity that can come your way, just because you happened to be born some place. I try to remember to breathe before saying anything, or to just smile politely. I used to try explain how it was for me, but found attention drifted. Like it had become comfortable to think a certain way, maybe even part of the culture.
These days, I find that whenever I hear someone using sweeping generalizations – the British do this, the Parisiennes are like such – I find myself pulling back.
The place is what we make of it, and maybe even how happy we are with ourselves & our own lives. If we criticize one another with these sweeping generalizations, what are we really sweeping under the rug? If we criticize each other without knowledge, what are we trying to convince ourselves of?
There is much I love about New Zealand – the quiet beaches & the laid back lifestyle particularly. But my choice would be to be living in Europe, with a multi-cultural continent at my feet & the lifestyle I dream of being economically viable & accessible.
I am not suggesting that everyone would be happy to live there ~ far from it. If somewhere is not right for you, then it is good to acknowledge that. But how you feel has to be about you & from your heart. It shouldn’t just be some line you picked up someplace else. It has to be a freedom you grant yourself to not follow someone else’s opinion. It is about being true. Something which stretches far beyond geographical borders.
***
On a similar topic, last night I read an article in Psychologies magazine about Social Identity. Claudia Hammond concluded: “But if…groups can have a strong identity even when they’ve been created on grounds as flimsy as which painting you prefer, perhaps we should question what ‘belonging’ really means. Are we separating ourselves from others without real need or reason? Perhaps the way to avoid this is through a conscious change in our thinking. Instead of looking for differences when we meet someone from another culture or group, we could focus instead on the similarities.”