Since New Zealand is in the southern hemisphere, their harvest occurs six months earlier than it happens in vineyards in, say, California. So if you’re shopping in September, you may notice that they’re already selling this year’s wines!

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It is very common to find wines from New Zealand sold with screwcaps, also known as Stelvin closures. In fact, about 95% of all New Zealand wine is sealed this way. Why would a producer shy away from cork? The answer is 2,4,6-trichloroanisole, or TCA for short. Often transferred to wine through cork closures, this compound imparts aromas and flavors of wet cardboard and musty basement. Not too appetizing, right? The screw cap closure ensures that winemakers aren’t literally pouring their hard work down the drain. New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc has the classic herbaceousness of the grape—you might taste a little bell pepper and jalapeño—combined with ripe fruit: think passion fruit and pink grapefruit. These wines are also often compared to gooseberries—small, green fruits that have a burst of tartness just like the wine.

I also picked up a container of the blueberry, which, compared to the strawberry-rhubarb, is more about the fruit. I appreciated the visible bits of blueberry in the topping and its authentic berry flavor. Still, given how much I like the yogurt on its own, I found myself wishing that I hadn’t already swirled it all in. Going forward, I’ll seek out the Honey flavor, which I assume is their equivalent of plain.

In short, I found that I do indeed have room in my heart for more yogurt. Especially when that yogurt is totally awesome and blows so many of the new, misguided “Greek yogurts” away. Open your oven door as little as possible. Temperature changes causes the meringue to crack, and letting cold air from outside the oven will do just that. If cracks happen, the meringue will still be tasty, but less pretty.
If the pavlova is starting to brown at all, reduce your oven temperature by 25 degrees. The ideal pavlova is totally pale, which usually means a gooey marshmallow interior.

Cane is harvested by hand or by machine and then stripped of its leaves. The cane is crushed or mashed to extract its juice. The juice is then boiled, up to three times, to concentrate and crystallize the sugar.

Revenge of the Sugar Beet
Sugarcane, it turns out, is not the only source of refined sugar. During the Napoleonic Wars in the early 1800s, Britain imposed a blockade of France, and this blockade prevented the import of sugarcane from the Caribbean. As a result, French scientists devised a method for the industrial extraction of refined sugar from sugar beets, which—unlike sugarcane—could be grown throughout France and central Europe.

This, however, left the sugarcane industry in Martinique and other French West Indies colonies with a quandary: its chief market for refined sugar had suddenly dried up. The plunge in sugar prices drove many producers into bankruptcy; sugar production declined, and less molasses was available for rum production. Distilleries in those islands turned instead to freshly crushed sugarcane juice. The product that resulted came to be known as “agricultural rum”—or rhum agricole.

The molasses by-product of sugar production was initially considered waste. It was too heavy to transport from the Caribbean, and at any rate, there was no demand for it. At first, producers simply dumped it into the ocean. At some point (and no one knows exactly where or when), someone seems to have noticed molasses starting to bubble; being familiar with brandy production, sugar producers realized this “waste” was fermenting, and they decided to use it. The molasses still had enough sugar to attract natural yeasts from the air; and the hot, wet environment was perfect for encouraging natural fermentation.

Distillation techniques were refined and well-known by this point, so it was simply natural to take the fermented molasses and distill it down to make a potable beverage.

Growth, Harvest, and Production of Sugarcane and Molasses
Requiring intense heat and a lot of moisture, cane grows only in tropical and subtropical climates. It can grow as high as 19 feet tall and as thick as an inch and a half in diameter. Its thickness can make it difficult to harvest.

A Brief History of Sugarcane, Molasses, and Rum
Sugarcane traces its origins to the Indus Valley. Earliest reports of its production date to about 5,000 years ago. Traders carried it into Asia Minor; by the 8th century A.D., Arabs had brought it into Southern Europe and, eventually, Spain. But rum lovers owe some gratitude to Christopher Columbus. It was he who introduced sugarcane to the Caribbean, planting it in Hispaniola (today’s home of the Dominican Republic and Haiti) on one of his voyages.

Cane quickly became the staple crop of the Caribbean, providing refined sugar to Europeans and molasses to the New England rum industry. European colonists carried it into much of Central and South America. Cane is now grown in more than 100 countries, supplying not just rum and refined sugar, but also ethanol.

Distillation techniques were refined and well-known by this point, so it was simply natural to take the fermented molasses and distill it down to make a potable beverage.

Most countries that produce rum require the spirit to be aged, so for our purposes, we will define rum as an aged spirit. This means we will not consider Brazilian cachaça to be a form of rum, since it is unaged.

Finally, if instead of the word rum, you see ron or rhum on a label, don’t worry. You’re merely seeing either the Spanish (ron) or French (rhum) variant of the same word. It’s all rum.

Sugarcane in Madeira. Wikimedia Commons
Normally, when you think of drinking a glass of grass, you’re probably thinking of a wheatgrass smoothie, but you’re doing the same thing when you belly up and order a daiquri or mojito. Sugarcane, it turns out, is a grass—a member of the same family as corn, wheat, sorghum, and rice.

Rum—most of it, anyway—originates in molasses, a by-product of refined-sugar production. In a way, rum is simply a way to use up industrial waste—the molasses left behind after sugarcane juice was boiled, cooled, and cured.

A large tank holding 2,300,000 gallons of molasses bursts, flooding the streets at 35 mph. The sticky wave plows through men, women, children, and horses. The molasses flow is strong and swift enough to knock down buildings and even buckle an elevated railroad, knocking a train off its tracks. The great Boston Molasses Disaster claims 21 lives, not including horses and dogs, and injures 150.

And yet, when rum was dubbed kill-devil, I don’t think this is what its critics had in mind.

Rum: A Definition
Rum is a spirit distilled from the fermented juice of sugarcane, sugarcane syrup, sugarcane molasses, or other sugarcane by-products. It’s distilled at less than 95% alcohol by volume (190 proof) and bottled at not less than 40% alcohol by volume (80 proof). Note: There are flavored rums bottled at less than 40% alcohol by volume, but I won’t be talking much about those.

The legal definition of rum tends to vary from country to country, so establishing a strict definition that applies to all rum from everywhere is impossible. What’s consistent, though, is that rum is always based on molasses, sugarcane juice, or other cane by-products.

As the chicken cooks, it absorbs oils directly from the surface of the wood, and also gets imbued with the fragrant steam and smoke produced by the green wood and the charcoals underneath. Once the chicken is cooked—it takes about two hours for a butterflied chicken turned once— it’s removed from the grill, stripped from the bone, and chopped up, all the better to expose it to fiery-hot Scotch bonnet sauce traditionally served on the side.

Allspice berries. The fruit of the pimento tree used for grilling jerk chicken, allspice berries are dried and resemble peppercorns. They have a sweet, spicy, floral flavor, and got their name when English settlers of the Caribbean tasted them and thought they combined the flavors of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. The berries are ground to release their essential oils.
Thyme. Fresh is preferable, but dried is also used.

Well-made, authentic jerk chicken is addictive: It’s both smoky and moist, sweet and spicy. The long marination and long cooking time leave it soft and tender, and the hot chile sauce typically served on the side cuts through the richness of the meat and keeps you going back for more.

Fiery, vinegary Scotch bonnet pepper sauce, to be eaten with jerk chicken or pork.
But let’s back up a little bit, shall we? Long before jerk chicken even hits that elaborate grill setup, it’s soaked in a simple to make but complex-tasting marinade that gives the meat its sweet and spicy flavor.

If you do an internet search for jerk chicken recipes, you’re likely to find hundreds of different ideas of what goes into the traditional marinade. Some recipes call for soy sauce, some for brown sugar; some call for whole cloves, some for ground; some add hot Scotch bonnet peppers, while others add milder jalapeños; and the list goes on and on.

In Jamaica, the jerk chicken joints I visited were invariably reluctant to share exactly what goes into their house marinades, but there’s an agreed-upon formula that forms the base of the marinade, which individual cooks or restaurants will riff on, changing an ingredient here, adding another one there.

Scotch bonnet pepper. Native to the Caribbean, Scotch bonnet peppers are extremely spicy, about 40 times hotter than jalapeños. The peppers are chopped or blended for use in the marinade, and seeds can be left in or removed for less heat.
Scallions or green onions. Both white and green parts, chopped.
Fresh ginger. Peeled and grated. The ginger plant flourishes in the Caribbean, and is used in many regional specialties such as ginger beer and sorrel, a drink that’s brewed from hibiscus flowers.
And that’s it. Other common ingredients added to this base include ground cinnamon or nutmeg, brown or white sugar, vegetable oil, or soy sauce. Most cooks marinate their meat for as long as possible, at least 12 hours but sometimes up to 24. As a result, the chicken is imbued with a ton of flavor before it even meets the coals and wood that will fill it with smokiness.

Well-made, authentic jerk chicken is addictive: It’s both smoky and moist, sweet and spicy. The long marination and long cooking time leave it soft and tender, and the hot chile sauce typically served on the side cuts through the richness of the meat and keeps you going back for more.

But there’s another reason jerk is so dear to Jamaicans’ hearts, and that’s its long history on the island. The method of cooking is said to have originated under the colonial rule, first of the Spanish and then of the British, in the 1600s. Groups of African slaves that had been brought to Jamaica to work its sugar plantations escaped to the mountainous interior of the island, where the native Indian population also sought refuge from the colonizers. These escaped slaves, today referred to as Maroons, are said to have hunted the wild boar common to the region, then preserved it for days in a spice-heavy marinade. When it came time to cook the meat, the Maroons dug holes in the ground, filled them with charcoal, and buried the meat in the holes, which they then covered so as not to produce smoke and attract the attention of those that would bring them back into slavery.

Whatever the recipe used, Jamaicans have a fierce passion for this native dish that’s as treasured for its historical significance as it is for its sheer tastiness.

Jerk chicken is the most well-known Jamaican dish to have been exported from the island. You know what I’m talking about: moist pieces of poultry that are full of soaked-up marinade flavor, with burnished skin and crispy, blackened bits of meat courtesy of the grill the bird is cooked on.

But if you’ve never had the chance to visit the tiny nation that jerk chicken hails from, then you’ve never really had the authentic dish. Here’s why: true jerk chicken is cooked not just over coals, but also over fresh green wood: most traditionally, wood from the pimento tree, which is native to the Caribbean and produces another very important jerk chicken ingredient—allspice berries, used in the marinade—or sometimes sweetwood, the Jamaican name for the laurel tree.

In Jamaica, the wood of these trees is essential to the jerk process. To cook the chicken (or the pork, also widely available at jerk joints), it all starts with the wood, which, in the form of charcoals, is laid under huge metal grates and continually stoked to stay roaring hot. Then, big logs of pimento or allspice wood are laid on top of the grates. The meat is placed directly on top of the green wood, then covered with big sheets of metal.

This is great for warm, sunny breakfasts. it’s sweet and creamy, and so easy to make. i love the pink colour too! feel free to mix up the berries, it’s lovely with blueberries, strawberries and blackberries too.
ingredients
150g frozen raspberries
100ml coconut milk (from a carton, not tinned)
1 tablespoon of almond butter
1 large frozen banana
To serve
sprinkle of fresh or frozen raspberries
a handful of coconut chips
1 tablespoon of almond butter
method
place all of the smoothie bowl ingredients into a blender and pulse until smooth.
once smooth, pour into a bowl and top with coconut chips, raspberries and a drizzle of almond butter.
miso aubergines
these miso aubergines are ridiculously moreish! the sweet miso dressing tastes delicious with the charred, gooey aubergine. i love serving these as a side dish to noodle salads, stir fries or even just enjoying them on their own with a little extra dressing drizzled over the top.

ingredients
2 aubergines, halved and quartered
2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1 tablespoon tamari
2 tablespoons date syrup
4 tablespoons brown miso paste
2 tablespoons mirin
2 red chillies, deseeded and sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
pinch of sesame seeds
method
preheat oven to 190c, fan setting.
mix together the oil, date syrup, brown miso paste and mirin into a smooth paste.
cut lines into the aubergine halves and pour over the paste. place onto a baking tray and cook in the oven for 45-50 minutes.
sprinkle with sesame seeds and fresh chillies.

ingredients
1 thumb sized piece of ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
frozen berries
1 small banana
150ml almond milk
1 tablespoon of almond butter
method
Place all of the ingredients into a powerful blender and blend until a smooth mixture forms. You may want to add a dash more almond milk if you like it a little thinner in consistency.
Pour in the almond milk, 2 tablespoons of melted coconut oil and maple syrup and mix well until a smooth batter forms.
Leave the batter to one side for 5-10 minutes in order to thicken up a little.
Once the mixture feels thick enough to hold its shape when cooking, warm some coconut oil in a pan over a medium heat.
Once the coconut oil has melted, add in a large spoonful of the batter into the pan, moving the pan around if needed to make a pancake shape.
this energising berry smoothie is the perfect start to a busy day. it’s packed full of delicious berry flavour, with a real kick coming from the ginger and a creaminess coming from the banana.

This is great for warm, sunny breakfasts. it’s sweet and creamy, and so easy to make. i love the pink colour too! feel free to mix up the berries, it’s lovely with blueberries, strawberries and blackberries too.
ingredients
150g frozen raspberries
100ml coconut milk (from a carton, not tinned)
1 tablespoon of almond butter
1 large frozen banana
To serve
sprinkle of fresh or frozen raspberries
a handful of coconut chips
1 tablespoon of almond butter
method
place all of the smoothie bowl ingredients into a blender and pulse until smooth.
once smooth, pour into a bowl and top with coconut chips, raspberries and a drizzle of almond butter.
miso aubergines
these miso aubergines are ridiculously moreish! the sweet miso dressing tastes delicious with the charred, gooey aubergine. i love serving these as a side dish to noodle salads, stir fries or even just enjoying them on their own with a little extra dressing drizzled over the top.

ingredients
2 aubergines, halved and quartered
2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1 tablespoon tamari
2 tablespoons date syrup
4 tablespoons brown miso paste
2 tablespoons mirin
2 red chillies, deseeded and sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
pinch of sesame seeds

This is great for warm, sunny breakfasts. it’s sweet and creamy, and so easy to make. i love the pink colour too! feel free to mix up the berries, it’s lovely with blueberries, strawberries and blackberries too.
ingredients
150g frozen raspberries
100ml coconut milk (from a carton, not tinned)
1 tablespoon of almond butter
1 large frozen banana
To serve
sprinkle of fresh or frozen raspberries
a handful of coconut chips
1 tablespoon of almond butter
method
place all of the smoothie bowl ingredients into a blender and pulse until smooth.
once smooth, pour into a bowl and top with coconut chips, raspberries and a drizzle of almond butter.
miso aubergines
these miso aubergines are ridiculously moreish! the sweet miso dressing tastes delicious with the charred, gooey aubergine. i love serving these as a side dish to noodle salads, stir fries or even just enjoying them on their own with a little extra dressing drizzled over the top.

ingredients
2 aubergines, halved and quartered
2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1 tablespoon tamari
2 tablespoons date syrup
4 tablespoons brown miso paste
2 tablespoons mirin
2 red chillies, deseeded and sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
pinch of sesame seeds
method
preheat oven to 190c, fan setting.
mix together the oil, date syrup, brown miso paste and mirin into a smooth paste.
cut lines into the aubergine halves and pour over the paste. place onto a baking tray and cook in the oven for 45-50 minutes.
sprinkle with sesame seeds and fresh chillies.