Rāranga & Steamed Pudding

 This week I had weaving and cooking lessons from two remarkable ladies. I am fortunate to have such teachers. 

The weaving lesson began with a visit to the Pa Harakeke, the New Zealand flax "extended family" growing behind my teacher's Kawaha Point home

There were a few pictures I failed to put in earlier posts, so I will put them here. This is Elder Rooks with President Maea, a counselor in the Rotorua Stake Presidency in the lobby of the Stake Center. I'm sure he could control the winds and rain with his magnificent voice. 

He is wearing a whalebone Koru, patterned after the unfurling frond of the silver fern. It is an "integral symbol in Māori art, carving and tattooing, where it symbolises new life, growth, strength and peace. Its shape conveys the idea of perpetual movement, while the inner coil suggests returning to the point of origin." (Wikipedia)
It is not uncommon to see men wearing large bone and pounamu greenstone carvings such as this, in different meaningful shapes. Women wear smaller carved pendants and attractive long greenstone drop earrings.

Elder Watson and Elder Cowell making cookies to give away during "Light the World" at Christmas. Elder Cowell's cookies were very uniform. He would do well at The Great British Baking Show. I can't say the same for Elder Watson. I had to fix some so they would cook evenly. 

Elder Kema, who has since been transferred to another area, and Elder Shepherd making brownies. They were very good.

So good, that when Sis. Cleverley and Sis. Ufagalilo showed up unexpectedly, about half of the cookies and brownies were soon demolished. There were still enough for ten treat boxes to give away.

Our District singing a song in Tongan before four of them were transferred away, sigh.

For New Year's Eve, the current District decided to come back for a repeat of Christmas Eve. We ate food and played games. Here they are playing Telestrations, with Elder Watson displaying his artistic skills.

The Julia Child of New Zealand, Lenora Winiata allowed me to watch while she made Purini Mamaoa, Maori steamed pudding, a dessert that originated with the immigrating British and is a part of the hangi pit cooking tradition. Although most cooks keep their recipes secret, Sis. Winiata has shared hers with attendees at her community cooking classes. A single pudding can sell for $20 (NZ) or more, and many of the ladies need to earn money while staying at home. Besides, I will be leaving for the U.S. in six months.

 The demand for her puddings is so high that she may go into full-scale production, when she finds the time

The recipe is deceptively simple. She had many cooking tips which I wrote down as I took pictures. She likes to experiment, and her puddings are absolutely wonderful.

She uses third-size stainless steel restaurant warmer pans for her purini. It makes a nice size for slicing. 

Putting the foil-wrapped puddings into two large bain-marie water baths in the oven

After an hour of cooking, the puddings are done. We each had a warm slice with newly-made custard. She gave us the rest to take home, which we shared with the two sister missionaries who had never tasted them before. They also want the recipe

On Wednesday Elder Rooks dropped me off at the duplex home of Pania Roa, a Maori woman who can do everything--kayaking (you can see her silver kayak on the car rack), weaving hipoki--the Maori burial cloth, making her own paper, singing faultless soprano, designing practical machines, and teaching me to weave. 

Pania at home

She thought I ought to start by knowing how to weave the very basic kete--basket--shape. This is a kete kai, made for the harvest of root vegetables. I will be making a closer-woven kete kai for carrying food, without such large gaps.

The kete kai with plaits (braids) at the bottom and around the top

The kete is pliable but very strong. The bottom plait is its weakest point.

We walked down to the extended family of Harakeke, New Zealand flax, for the Hauhake, harvest. First she said the Karakia, Maori prayer of thanks for the gift of harakeke, and then looked for crowded spots that needed thinning. You do not cut the three rau, leaves, at the middle of the fan--they are the awhirito, the parents and baby forming the beginning of a new plant.

A bird was drinking nectar from the flowers. Pania told me was a Tui bird. I didn't get my phone out in time to take a picture, so I am using this one from https://tekorowaiowaiheke.org/latest-news/a-unique-nectar-feeder-written-by-te-korowai-o-waiheke-team-member-copy

I get to carry the harvested rau, the harakeke leaves. I am to use Maori words for all aspects of Rāranga, weaving. 

The bottom stems have been sliced off

Pania uses a sheep shearing comb to form whenu, strips. Splitting the rau into whenu takes your whole body--tearing off the outside strips with your hands and arms, and splitting them with your knees and feet. It might help if I were taller.

Here Pania is softening the strips using a custom made pounamu blade, which breaks the muka--fibers--and lets the moisture escape. This is called hāpine, the scraping of flax.

But this takes so much time and energy, that Pania has designed this machine to do the hāpine for you. She had an engineer build it for her.

She also designed and had this machine built. First she showed me the inside of it, which you don't want your hand to get into. It does have safety measures and I am following all of them. It makes a terrible racket and she has a pair of ear protectors to wear while using it

This machine crushes and strips the chlorophyll from the muka, fiber. We are only putting the strips in about 4" for the purposes of the kete kai. Muka from the entire whenu is used for making rope, netting, and the traditional piu piu skirt.

Instead of boiling her whenu in a pot, the way I did mine, Pania likes to take hers to the boiling sulphur springs at Sulphur Point. She is Maori, and can do this.

Here the geothermal springs meet the shore of Lake Rotorua, and there are gates and signs saying no one is allowed past this point. But we moved the gates aside and she showed me where I shouldn't walk, because it is hot there. When tourists on the roadside yelled at us asking if they could come where we were, she let them know that they could not.

She allowed me to boil some of the whenu. You put half the length of strips bundled with heat-resistant rubber bands into the boiling water for about 15 seconds, then turn them over to dip the other half of the strips. It fogged up my glasses and you have to keep your fingers from getting burned. It was a lot faster than boiling it on the stove, I must say, but a little worrisome.

Back at the house, and the harakeke is cooled off and the smell of sulphur is far away. 

You begin to three-plait narrow strips of flax, then work in the prepared whenu one by one into the plait. You need strong hands and lots of practice, which I didn't have. I will have to practice more.

Here's what it looks like from the top

The bottom is now braided and ready for weaving. My braiding was not tight enough and had to be pulled out.

The weave has begun, but Pania, who hasn't made a kete kai for a year or so, had forgotten the next step, and besides, I needed to get back home. So we are saving everything for another lesson. The blue exercise weight on the left helps hold the whenu down to keep it from being where it shouldn't. 

A New Zealand rock pigeon, Kererū aropari, strutting in our back yard. A fine fellow he is, too, and he knows it.

While Mr. Pukeko, much less glamorous but a chicken for all that, doing his rounds along the top of the lattice fence between our house and the basketball court.