Lunching in style

Well, as I have said more than once recently, life gets more decadent by the day.   And today's dose of decadence was courtesy of Ostro in The Seafarers' building on Quay Street where on a sudden whim we decided to have lunch.  
All this after morning tea with Good Friend Jackie at La Cigale too.....where we had to try the chocolate croissants - well you can't not try them;  it wouldn't be right.
`Let's have lunch in the city,' I suggested to Gordie the Husband and quick as a flash he agreed, breathlessly suggesting Ostro and should it be full when we arrived then he had a second choice up his sleeve.  At any rate, he assured me, we were not going to go hungry.
Ostro was doing a special lunch for Auckland Foodies' Month - two courses for $40 or three for $50.   We chose the former and over the next ninety minutes partook of a Crudo of Kingfish followed by Butternut Ravioli washed down with several glasses of wine.  All was delicious.  
We had a table by the window overlooking one of the wharfs where several huge container ships with names like `Courageous of Rio' busily emptied their cargo of used cars and tractors into the blustery Auckland winter day.    It was strangely comforting to watch the hive of industry as we emptied our plates.
This is becoming more and more like a Food Blog.  Life could get a lot worse.

Reminiscing on my first mobile phone

Oh how I long for my very first mobile phone.   I think it was 1995 and the phone was definitely heavy, and rather clumpy.  It bumped against my hip reassuring me that it was still there - in fact it was really weighty in my jacket pocket.   But I loved it because it was so simple to use!      Its text function might have been time consuming with all those rapid pulses required to action some letters but it functioned reliably all the same!     It might not have allowed me to develop my film director inner self in fact it didn't even take photos or tell me the time in outer Mongolia, it could not convert farenheit to celcius or wake me at the same time each morning but I could make good telephone calls using it.
I had owned my latest mobile phone for almost a month before I learned how to make run of the mill calls and it was a month later that I finally got on top of its texting ability.   I really dislike it and I say that hesitantly because I do not want to incur its wrath.   Oh you can mock if you like but better to be safe than sorry.

Not quite over it seems....

Well those birthday celebrations are not one hundred per cent over.  I am reliably told that he is due to make an appearance at The Parnell in just a couple of hours where yet another lunch will be consumed, this time in the company of friend John and friend Olga.   Fingers crossed I'm invited as well!

Birthdays can be fun

Well to be totally accurate my own are never that much fun but my husband's on the other hand are enviably fun filled;   they go on for days.     For him the fun and festivity started more than a week beforehand when an excitingly torpedo-shaped parcel arrived via courier from France.   We tore it open to find a large tin of Duck Confit inside, a kind thought from Dearest Daughter who was holidaying in a duck specialising village with boyfriend and parents of same.  
The birthday celebration got even more exciting when I offered to turn the contents of the can into a Cassoulet as a pre-birthday dinner to share with Number 2 Son who was briefly visiting from China.  Both males agreed that would go down very nicely and rushed off together into the inner reaches of Parnell to purchase suitable wine for the occasion.    Many hours later we three were in total accord - a Cassoulet without duck is like an English breakfast without bacon.  They had only had the duckless version in the past.
`What a simply divine birthday', said Husband as he slipped into bed that night and adjusted his Cepak machine.   But there was more to come.
Yesterday saw us both furtively lingering at the door of Harbourside, our favourite downtown restaurant because - yes, you've guessed, he needed a birthday lunch.     Two hours later, nicely filled with roasted John Dory he said it had been a splendid lunch!
What a birthday!    But wait there's more.......
Just when we thought the surprises and treats really must stop, contemplating the breakfast dishes on this chilly Auckland winter morning, the trusty red and yellow courier van once more appeared in the street.   Dearest Daughter now back in London, had organised for the latest Bill Bryson book to be delivered and very soon he will know more about 1927 than you could ever imagine.  
`It's slightly over the top,'  I told him in my best school mistressy voice.    But so immersed was he in the first chapter that I do not believe he heard me! 

Worth a visit

Well at long last I managed to persuade the man in my life to try the game restaurant CAZADOR, situated somewhat strangely on a corner in the outer reaches of Dominion Road.  We were accompanied by No.2 son, here on a brief visit from Taiwan.
`We won't need to book,'  I said airily, `After all, it's sure to be empty on a Tuesday evening.'
Good thing he ignored me because when we arrived just after seven the place was two thirds full, and became even fuller over the next thirty minutes.
The atmosphere was a little starkly cold and univiting, lots of dead animals and birds stared down at us whilst we ate but we didn't mind that too much.    The food was surprisingly good, I might almost say excellent.  Between us we tried a splendid terrine, slow baked goat shanks, hare and quail followed by apple and calvados trifle and persimmon pannacotta.      Definitely worth a second visit!

Why is epublishing such hard work?

Well it is hard work isn't it?   It is seductively effortless initially - I mean after you've got over the hurdle of following the directions and basically coping with the necessary technology.   And I have to agree that seeing a nice new book cover looking glossy and tempting is very satisfying.    Hey ho, you think to yourself - gone are the bad old days of waiting for a high and mighty agent to get in touch or a publisher to deign to respond. Now it is all so easy-peasy.    But once you've got over the self satisfaction of knowing your latest epic is up there for the world to see.....well it's up to YOU to make sure the world does not overlook it.   And that, of course, is not quite as effortless.
So now, rather than staring at the screen in the midst of a nasty dose of writer's block, you sit drumming  heels, fingers and elbows wondering just who else you can breathlessly bombard by email drawing their attention to a work of enormous literary worth.    I mean, just how many friends can you afford to lose? 

Catching up with old friends....

I have just spent the last forty minutes chatting about the good old days with my old friend Doug Stanley, currently living in Australia.   A mighty river has passed under the bridge since the nineteen sixties when he and I both became involved in pirate radio - he as a broadcaster, me as the `associate' of the station's technical director.   It all ended in disaster which was probably inevitable.    Revisiting those times via the writing of Eight Ten to Charing Cross has certainly revived a great many memories.