“Our kai is quite extraordinary”, says Cynthia Sidney, teacher at Tolaga Bay Area School and food lover.
Cynthia was born and raised in the area and grew up living off the land and the sea. One of nine children, she says kai was not a trip down a fast food drive through, rather it was a time of togetherness, to gather food, prepare, learn and of course, enjoy.
“We all had huge gardens — four to five acres of potatoes, a quarter acre of kumara, pumpkins and roro (marrows) and corn, tomatoes, silver beet, beetroot, carrots, cabbage and cauliflowers. We also had lots of fruit trees,” she said. “We had peaches, plums, apples, loquats and grapes. We also preserved these. We had our own pigs, hens and ducks and their eggs.
“At the bottom of the section was a creek where we got our eels and watercress, and beyond that were pipi, cockles and whētiko (mud bubu),” she said.
Boil-up remains a yummy dish for school kids, coming in a close third. A bacon bone boil-up is preferred, with the instruction that it must include doughboys and fried bread on the side. Cynthia prefers her boil up with tītī (mutton birds).
Hāngī take place frequently along the Coast, these days cooked in above-ground steamers rather than the age-old in-the-ground method.
Much camaraderie is involved, with groups gathered around garages, men perched on stools, kids running around, all waiting for just the right moment when the steaming meal is presented. A production team of eager recipients carefully wrap the foiled meals in newspaper before they are handed out.
The abundance of seafood on offer was, and still is, a part of the rich tradition and heritage of Coast life.
“When there was a storm my father would take us for walks along the beach where we picked up fish. He would slice and fillet the fish, dip it in salt and we would eat it raw.”
But she admits to loving puku hipi (sheep guts) the best.
The versatility of our national animal is explained by farm station owner Greg Shelton.
“When we kill a sheep, everything is used except for the lungs. That’s the offal — liver, heart, kidneys.”
The head, brains and the intestines are other delicacies. “You unravel the intestines, put a hose through them to blow out all the grass and give it a clean-out, wrap it up like a knitting ball, tie it off, put it in the pot and cook it up.”
Pūhā, another versatile edible, is a green native vegetable that can still be found growing wild.
“Our mother taught us to pick pūhā as well as distinguish the many different varieties,” said Cynthia. “Some are pūhā pororua, fat hen, tiotio, tohetaka, wenoweno (wenewene to some) and poroporo. When these were scarce, we would pick all the varieties and mum called this pūhā otaota.”
How popular is kānga kōpiro (fermented corn) today?
Not such a thumbs up with the junior school kids. But Cynthia has a different opinion. “Back on the land we had a well where the sack of corn was tied to a rope and left for months to ferment. We called it kānga kōpiro. It was a delicacy then and still is today.”
The karaka berry, or Māori peanut as it also called, is classified as a poisonous berry but one Tokomaru Bay resident remembers watching her grandmother prepare and cook the berry so it was safe to munch on. The trees continue to grow well here.
One East Coast local remembers dropping his dad and a mate off at a beach to go fishing back in the 1970s, with the instruction to “come and pick us up after dark”.
He duly returned later, peering along the sandy bay searching for the two. He finally spotted his dad, buried in the sand, with just his head showing, and a toe with fishing line attached. “It was getting too cold!” his father said.
The Pacific Ocean holds more memories for Cynthia.
“In the summer we would go around the rocks at Blue Waters to get kōura (crayfish), ngākihi (limpets), bubus, pāua, octopus and kina. In winter we would get parengo. Our father, uncles, cousins and brothers would go out further into the sea and get kina and pāua, where they were more abundant. They would also spear fish.”
It was, and remains, a way of life to be held closely, and not forgotten, a treasure trove waiting to be discovered.
