This post is part of the A to Z Challenge. Each post this month will be associated with a letter of the alphabet with the theme ‘Food Memories‘.
“On the way back, we’ll have fish and chips at Lake Fury,” said my sister’s (sort-of) father-in-law to me.
“Lake Fury? F-U-R-Y?” I asked, I wanted to Google the location.
“No, Fee-u-ry,” he repeated.
“Okay, Fury.” I started typing ‘fury’ in the search box.
“F-E-R-R-Y,” he said to me.
“Oh! Fah-ry! Lake Ferry!” By then, he looked quite annoyed with me, thinking I was making fun of him. Though seriously, sometimes the New Zealand accent gets the better of me and all I did was just trying to get clarification.
A day trip had been planned for the five of us – my sister, her husband, his mum, his mum’s partner and myself. We began in Wellington, drove north to the Rimutaka (Remutaka) Crossing and then on to Greytown – a quaint little, idyllic town perfect for antiquing. My brother-in-law had family several kilometres from Greytown, so we dropped by for a quick visit.
My sister’s sort of father-in-law then suggested that since we were in the area, we could head south to Cape Palliser, which was the southernmost tip of the south island, to visit the lighthouse there. En route, my brother-in-law suddenly thought that it’d be fun to hike the pinnacles at the Putangirua Scenic Reserve.
“It’s just a quick hike, there’s time,” he said.
The hike took 2 hours to and from the pinnacles and my hair was a mess because I didn’t have a hair tie to pull my hair back. I did not look cute. Also, since I wasn’t planning on going on a hike, I was in jeans. Hiking in jeans. Not. Cute.
After the visit to the Cape Palliser lighthouse (which I blogged about here), we finally made our way to Lake
Fury Ferry where I was promised the most excellent fish and chips I’ll ever have. We arrived just in time to see the sun set, the horizon a symphony of orange, yellow, blue and purple.
We had a seat outside, facing the lake, so that we could enjoy the evening. Our fish and chips arrived in baskets, steaming, with a wedge of lemon, and the beer was ice cold.
“No utensils,” said my brother-in-law, “hands only.” I adhered to his recommendation and broke open a plump fillet. Unlike most fish and chips I’ve had, the coating stayed with the fillet and did not detach, which was a good start. When I dipped the little piece I had into the tartare sauce, which was quite delicious on its own, and tried it, well, it just melted in my mouth. Indeed, best ever.
Satiated, we finally got on the road, it was dark but the stars were out in full force. We were mostly silent on the trip back to Wellington, but it was the good kind of silent. It was a long day, but oh, what a long and wonderful day.
Where’s the best fish and chips you’ve ever had?