New Zealand - Dunedin - Dinner of Disasters and Moonlit Serenades

On my first excursion from the house, I wandered over along the Oval, the local park and cricket-playing field, to the grocery store, which demonstrated to me that we literally live on the other side of the tracks in town, the division between North and South Dunedin. Mike walked me as far as his bus stop at the bottom of the street, where I had a sink or swim introduction to traffic driving on the left.

Although I obviously knew they drive on the opposite side of the street here, I was unprepared for how my brain was trying to correct this phenomenon. It literally refuses to believe my eyes showing the cars moving on the other side. I feel like shaking myself or slapping my head a few times to correct what I'm seeing. Makes jaywalking especially difficult, let me tell you! I may very well get hit by a bike or car if I'm not careful.

Upon my return to the flat, I discovered a note from Ashley requesting my assistance in preparing the pot roast for dinner. While I'm happy to help out in exchange for the free room and board I get from them, Ashley obviously was unaware that cooking meat is definitely not a culinary strength of mine. The directions seemed fairly straightforward though, so I ambitiously accepted the task. Defrost meat - check. Season with garlic, salt and pepper - check. Oil big pot - check. Brown meat on both sides - mostly check (a little too hot when it first landed, one side noticeably crispier than the other). Add broth and already chopped veggies in fridge - check. Let it sit till Ashley gets home - check. And it smelled so good. Ashley made the sides of mashed potatos, broccoli and wellingtons. It was shaping up to be a great dinner right?

And then Ashley spilled the pepper in the potatos. Whew - were they peppery. But not the end of the world, since the pot roast was central and was so full of promise. Mike and I soaked it in tasty gravy and dug in. We are chewing our way through the first amazing bite and yet... we slow the chews and glance inquiringly at each other. Ashley pauses as she notices and hesitates to take her first bite. "What? Is it not cooked?" she asks. Mike and I continue to look at each other in genuine puzzlement tinged with disappointment. "No, it's cooked" says Mike. "It's just not..." I say. "Beef..." supplies Mike. Ashley's face joins ours in puzzlement. The package fully said beef. It looked like beef, and smelled like it cooking. But it distinctly tasted like ham and the texture was totally off. And holy cow, was it too salty, courtesy of the broth. Still tasty, but you don't pot roast ham in beef broth until tender. It just tasted... wrong. Upon further investigation, we discovered it was corned beef. Which we will never buy again.

We also treated ourselves to a movie on my parents, who sent a little play money our way, let's say for Mike and Ashley's six year anniversary which they celebrate today. We saw The Watchmen, which Mike and his friends thought was awesome and philosophical, which Ashley thought was total crap, and which I found pretentious and unintentionally hilarious. On our walk home up our beloved dodgy Maitland street, we were serenaded by four drunk guys fumbling with a guitar on their front balcony. "And a very good night to you cuties!" they hollered as we passed. To which Mike turns and announces, "Um, I'm a guy." Priceless. And we waved to them again this morning, as they were still drinking on their front porch as Ashley and I went to the market at 9am. Nice.