Good Egg, Bad Egg.

Welcome to 2011!  Hopefully everyone managed to survive the crazy-ass Christmas and New Year season (and the random weather) intact... Noo Ziland has had a seriously nuts storm pass up the country just after Christmas, and heaps of people got cut off from where they were going because of the flooded roads and massive winds... even to a wind veteran like myself, gusts of 160 kilometers per hour is just a tad freakish.

Luckily, the Lad and I were out of town for Christmas, up north in Hamilton where the weather is sunny and the table is laden.  We stayed with my parents, which was lovely, though I have to say that I probably gained about a hundred pounds, because mum is a fantastic cook.  We drove up, spending a night in Rotorua (awesome geo-thermal action, but stinky like a bad egg-fart.  Nice people though) on the way up the country.  On the way up, I had been Ms. Ultra-prepared, and made a picnic, which we promptly devoured, and then we needed a sweet treat.  This is that sweet treat.

Cussssttaaaard.   *throws head back and drooooools*

There is a little town on State Highway 1 (sort of at the junction between SH1 and SH3), called Bulls.  At Bulls, there is a cafe called the Mothered Goose.  I'm not really into custard square, but I made an exception for this puppy.  So if you're ever in the neighbourhood, boy howdy, pop in and try it, because you won't regret it.  Flakey pastry, still crunchy and delicious, and the most vanillary custard I ever tasted.  I ended up eating most of the custard out of the thing on it's own, but thank goodness I had already eaten lunch, because otherwise I'd be even plumper around the middle than I am now.

Anyway, since this post might turn into 'first in a series' kind of action, I'm going to leave you imagining the fragrant vanilla-eggy-creamy waft of this custardy delight, while I go put my laundry out.  Peace, y'all.