the kiwi summer kitchen is the barbie

Photo courtesy of Steve Sids1

Yesterday I was minding my own business and a chirp let me know I had a new text message. It came from an unspecified person with a 917 area code, but someone who clearly knew me. I've recently upgraded phones and for some inexplicable reason, it wasn't recognizing this particular number.

I politely texted back a version of "I'm sorry, who are you exactly?" and was immediately chided by one of my closest friends.

Oops.

This brought into focus the fact that we had not spoken in far too long. Time zones and the happy swirl of life can all conspire.

Oddly, it was when this friend was farthest away from me physically that were in the best touch. A decade ago she married a Kiwi--New Zealander-- and they eventually moved from the U.S. to Wellington, where her husband had family. We set up monthly phone call schedules and kept at it with near religious consistency, despite the time difference between "the rock" as she called NZ and Seattle.

Now that we're a mere 3 zones apart, it's like we operate in totally different solar systems.

Some of my favorite memories of all time involve a trip I took to NZ to visit her and her hubby. It was exactly this time of year, and I fled the winter and darkness and after the longest flight of my life, ended up on the tarmac in Auckland, squinting into the sunshine.

It was this trip that I was introduced to the Kiwis delight in--nay devotion to--the "barbie" or barbecue. I remember sitting under fresh lemon trees on the South Island, getting ready to tuck in to the latest feast of grilled meat, with fresh strawberry shortcake to follow, made with berries we had picked that afternoon. A spirited game of croquet had formed our appetites. I had a backpack and a round the world ticket. Everything was possible and all was before me.

It seems appropriate that this article on the history of NZ's love affair with outdoor cooking from the New Zealand Herald popped up the very day that my friend texted me. Kismet.

This weekend I'll be calling my friend--her cell phone number now properly named and stored. It's wintertime in the hemisphere we both call home now, but we can pretend it's summer when we speak.

PS. The beaches in NZ really do look as gorgeous as the photo.