National and Freshwater -- November 2019

I was less than enthusiastic at the thought of attending National MP Todd Muller’s water meeting in Ashburton last month. This wasn’t through any fault of Muller, National’s spokesperson for agriculture, but rather his party’s approach to the raft of challenges farmers are currently facing.

National’s proxies have been advocating for public protest both openly on social media and behind closed doors with industry groups. Protest was a disaster for farmers at the last election and, no matter how good it may have been for the National Party, I still don’t see it as a constructive or useful tool.

Another reason for my antipathy was the recent policy announcement coming from the National Party leaders; the dog whistling has been so loud my Labradors are in a constant state of confusion. Even if there was evidence unvaccinated children of solo mums had caused the measles outbreak in Auckland, and there isn’t, cutting the benefits of those parents still wouldn’t have prevented it.

Of course dog whistle politics isn’t confined to the Nats, at the last election Labour plumbed new depths with their “Chinese-sounding names” housing attack and immigration policies across the spectrum seemed to be a race to see who could be most xenophobic (the Greens, to their credit, pulled out of that race and Labour won by a nose).

I did attend the meeting though. The fact that Muller had drawn a line in the sand and committed to ending DIRA played almost as big a part in my decision to go as the message from a twitter friend saying they’d be there and were looking forward to meeting me.

I’m glad I went. I was expecting a partisan call to arms and an exhortation to drive my tractor to Parliament in protest at the oncoming new regulations. Instead I got reason, pragmatism and encouragement to respectfully engage with the process.

It was obvious Muller had been giving it his all, fresh off a North Island tour he was in Ashburton after speaking in Timaru earlier in the day and Oxford the day before. Barely able to speak above a hoarse whisper he regularly sipped from a glass of water, joking at one point that it was a delicious 2.5% nitrate. I couldn’t imagine David Parker getting away with a comment like that, let alone getting a laugh from the 70 or so people that had come to hear him speak.

The meeting wasn’t strictly about water, it was meant to address the many issues facing rural New Zealand today, but if a politician is going to address a crowd of Mid-Canterbury farmers there’s little doubt it will become a meeting about water.

Muller set the scene by harking back to Helen Clark’s statement some 20 years ago that agriculture was a sunset industry and built on this theme the idea that the current Labour Government does not like farming and want to see it gone. Whether that’s accurate or not, it was an idea the crowd was receptive to.

He lamented that the progress made by farmers had not been acknowledged and congratulated the room on the way farmers around the country had engaged on the proposed freshwater regulations in a respectful and informed manner. This, he said, was the way forward; engaging with facts and science, not pitchforks. Leaning in, he called it.

My friend and I looked at each other when he said this because this was astounding. This is a radical departure from what I had been seeing in public until very recently and it is a philosophy that I could get behind.

National, Muller said, would not be put in a position where they oppose the freshwater proposals simply because of their economic impact. This would be just as wrong as the situation we currently find ourselves in where targets are being set with no regard for their social OR economic consequences. A balanced solution must be found that takes everything into account.

He’s right of course, I just hadn’t heard National say it out loud until now. ECan currently have a nitrate target of 6.9mg/litre, and shifting that target to 1mg has a diminishing positive effect on the environment while the economic and social costs increase exponentially and potentially catastrophically.

I’ve said before that farmers just want to be left alone, but barring that we want certainty which is why a bipartisan agreement on water policy must be reached. I’m very glad to see National are taking this approach and are there fighting for the economic and mental wellbeing of farming communities.

I look forward to seeing them apply this approach to all communities.

Texas Barbecue, The Country -- November 2019

If you’re ever in Texas you owe it to yourself and your taste buds to try Texas barbecue, this isn’t Kiwi style barbecue, there’s no gas and no hotplate, this is charcoal, mesquite, smoke and hours and hours of cook time.

There’s a whole culture attached to Texan barbecue; it’s about friends and family coming together, welcoming people into your home and taking the time to get to know what’s happening in people’s lives, it’s about friendship and community.

The most well-known barbecue place in Austin is Franklin’s, established in 2009, Franklin’s have sold out of brisket every single day since they opened.  While they’re famous for brisket and ribs, they’re more famous for their queue; think Queenstown’s Fergburger on steroids.

By happy coincidence my accommodation was only a 5-minute walk from Franklin’s, so I arrived at 11:30 on a Wednesday morning, half an hour after they opened, and joined the line. As we waited and shuffled forward I eavesdropped on my neighbours; the family in front of me were excitedly deciding how many pounds of brisket and how many sausages they would buy and fretting over whether the ribs would be sold out before they reached the counter. The two young men behind me were in an earnest and highly technical discussion about the dimensions of their RV’s cooler which, they finally concluded, would hold 3 pounds of brisket.

By the time I reached the counter I was relieved the ribs hadn’t sold out so I added a pound of them to my original order of a pound of brisket and 2 sausages. It was then I learned a valuable barbecue lesson: just because they sell it by the pound doesn’t mean you have to buy it by the pound.

Everything was delicious, as you’d expect. The pork ribs had a nice hit with their spice rub, the sausages were dense and heavy with just a hint of smokiness and the brisket was amazingly succulent and tender. All the meat stood alone without the need of additional flavour, but I helped myself to their famous coffee infused barbecue sauce just the same.

Was it worth the $60? I don’t think you’re paying for just the meal; you’re paying for the whole experience. I walked past a few days later and there were over 200 people waiting their turn. They had lawn chairs and chilly bins, umbrellas and sunhats. Kids were running in and out of the line and everyone was thrilled to be part of the experience. I know the British like to queue, but this was the first time I’d ever seen standing in line elevated to entertainment.

The day before I left Austin I went to a totally different barbecue joint, and only then because the one I’d set my sights on was closed on Mondays. As I walked further east into an area where gentrification only just had a toehold, past colourful murals of local African American heroes, I came across a weatherboard building with peeling white paint and a faded Pepsi sign on a precarious lean bearing the legend “Sam’s BBQ”.

I joked that it looked sketchy, but as soon as I stepped through the door I was in love; the walls were covered in photos of long past local events, there were booths with sagging vinyl benches and a pedestal wash basin next to the counter for the very necessary post-barbecue ablutions. Above all I loved it because it was welcoming, it felt comfortable and friendly.

I was greeted warmly by a tall, rangy African American gentleman in his late 60’s. His wide smile was full of gaps and when I asked him what was good he laughed like I had made the best joke in the world. Everything at Sam’s is good, he told me. Having learned my lesson from earlier barbecue experiences I opted for a mixed plate which let me choose two sides and two meats. The sign out front proclaimed that Sam’s sold Austin’s best hot sausage, so how could I resist? I rounded the order off with mutton and potato salad and green beans as sides. You should always get the potato salad, it’s unlike anything I’ve tried before, cold mashed potato with a creamy consistency and bursting with flavour.

The sausage was excellent, and the mutton was all I could have asked for -- a rich, deep flavour and not at all greasy or fatty which is no mean feat when you’re cooking mutton flaps. For the first time in my life I enjoyed green beans, I don’t know what he did to them but they were crisp and delicious.

It wasn’t until later when I was sent a news article about Sam’s that I realised the man who served me was David Mays.  His family bought Sam’s BBQ in 1976, and every morning Mays now struggles with the dilemma of whether to keep serving barbecue to the community he loves or takes the five million dollars developers have offered him so they can build apartments where his building now stands.

Of the barbecue places I tried in Austin; Franklin’s, The Salt Lick, Stubb’s – it’s Sam’s to which I’d return. Honest, delicious and with such a deep sense of history and genuine warmth that I didn’t want to leave.

While Sam’s was my favourite barbecue shop in Texas it wasn’t the most memorable experience.
Katy Kemp, a twitter friend, invited me to visit her family ranch: Kemp Angus Farm.

I knew I was going for lunch and a farm tour, but I was expecting maybe some sandwiches and a coffee. Katy’s father and her brother Kurt had prepared a home grown Angus chuck roast in the smoker they’d built out of an old propane tank, a truly impressive wheeled contraption that could be towed anywhere you felt the need.

Oh Lord! The smoke ring on that roast was perfect, the meat was tender and juicy and the famous Kreuz sausage was thick and dense and absolutely did not need the mustard that Kurt liberally applied to his plate. The delicious meat was served with a corn bake and stem to tip roast carrot, and I sipped my iced tea while listening to Mr Kemp talk about the trials of farming in Texas. Lunch was topped off with Bluebell ice cream, another Texas institution, and followed with a guided tour of the Angus stud.

At the end of the day, no matter how good a barbecue place is, nothing beats being welcomed into a person’s home and sitting down to a home cooked meal. I hope to return the favour one day