filling our bellies

It was in understandably good moods that we trundled through Miramar on our way to lunch. Seemingly in tune with our high spirits, the day was clearing up to reveal the bright blue sky and cheery sunshine that I loved about Wellington.

Our destination for lunch was the new Chocolate Fish Café. The old establishment used to be located in a bright teal building at Scorching Bay, where servers would brave oncoming traffic to deliver pancakes and ice cream to patrons seated at hand-painted tables and chairs across the street from the café. That location used to be a favorite haunt of Peter Jackson and select members of the “Lord of the Rings” cast. I can remember being introduced to chocolate fish and hokey pokey ice cream there on my first visit.

Chocolate fish aren’t nearly as exciting as they sound – they’re just chocolate-covered marshmallows cut in the shape of fish. But they’re a New Zealand specialty, along with hokey pokey ice cream. Hokey pokey is a vanilla ice cream containing chunks of either honeycomb or solid toffee, and is a good example of what New Zealanders classify as “Kiwiana” – items or icons unique to the country that have been integrated into its culture and national identity. Other examples of Kiwiana are the All Blacks rugby team, jandals (flip-flops to us Americans), pavlova (a popular meringue dessert), the kiwi bird, kiwifruit, gumboots (or “Wellies”), and the silver fern plant. And while some examples of Kiwiana are taken more seriously – such as hei-tiki, or Maori neck pendants – much of it is regarded as kitsch (like the plastic hei-tiki mass produced for tourists). But, in a small country where tourism is the number-one export, I guess mild exploitation of the culture would be difficult to avoid.

The old Chocolate Fish Café could have probably been considered Wellingtonian Kiwiana, with its sweet treats, hand-painted furniture, traffic-dodging staff, and unique Kiwi atmosphere. But the Café at Scorching Bay closed a little over a year ago. It then migrated to Miramar, where it’s now attached to a garden center. It’s definitely lost some of its charm (and all of its “Waiter Crossing” signage), but the hand-painted furniture and a touch of the café’s quirky atmosphere successfully made the move, so Vic and Raewyn like to keep the tradition going.

After ordering my sandwich, I sat down in a chair painted with cartoon frogs at a table with Charlotte, Josephine, and Lisa. Josephine was digging into a salad, while Lisa was eyeing a thick, yellow-orange soup sitting in front of her.

“Have you tried this stuff?” she asked me, sniffing at a spoonful.

“Pumpkin?”

“Yeah. I thought it sounded interesting.”

“I’ve tried it, but it’s not really my thing.” I’d had my first taste of pumpkin soup during my second week in New Zealand, and immediately decided that pumpkin belongs in pies, not in soup. One of my Kiwi flatmates disagreed with me, but since she’d never tasted pumpkin pie, I didn’t give her argument much credence.

“I think I like it,” Lisa said after downing a few spoonfuls.

“Like what?” Echo asked as she carried her toasted sandwich (a “toastie” to the Kiwis) past our table.

“The pumpkin soup,” Charlotte replied, pointing to Lisa’s bowl. “Apparently you Americans don’t have it.”

“Nope.” Echo shook her head. “We also don’t serve this much lamb.” She waved a hand in the direction of the menu, where a few lamb items were listed. I was about to tell her to take a look at Subway’s menu sometime – which, in New Zealand, also includes lamb – but was interrupted by Vic, who came to inform us that we would have to rush lunch a bit.

“We’re running behind schedule, and we have to get Echo and Mary back across town for their appointment at Roger’s.”