How to make a mulled wine

A mulled wine is good for winter.

Press out some orange juice, cut half an orange, some lemon peel, put all together in a pot, put in some sugar, heat to dissolve.

Put into the pot the Bay leaf, cinnamon stick, cloves, nutmeg power, star anise and pure in the Georgian wine, slowing cooking for 7-10 minutes, add some vanilla essence (or vanilla bean earlier with the spices).

It is done. Drink when it is warm. Smell a lot of cinnamon and orange. Taste awesome, nice sweetness with spices. Pour back to the Georgian wine bottle for storage.

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How to make Limoncello

Golden lemons in the yard.

Pick 10 lemons and wash it under the tap.
Take only the thin peel without the white part.
Put them in a jar and pure in one liter of vodka.
Save them in a shady place.

Shake them every week, after 2-3 weeks, take them out.
Filter out the peels.

Mix 6 cups of sugar with 5 cups of water.
Dissolve them on the heat then cool down to become a syrup.

Pour in the vodka liquid with the syrup.
After mixing, one liter of vodka becomes 4-5 bottles of limoncello.
Saving them for one month after all the sugar dissolves.

Enjoy the limoncello with cake, fruit salad, lemon and lime pie or just as an aperitif or after dinner as a desert for digestion.

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Cocktail style white Sangria

I made this white Sangria from Apple, orange and a natural sweet white wine from Robertson Winery, South Africa.

How to mix them?

Chop up small pieces of Apple, then mix together with orange juice and orange flesh, pour in the wine and fridge for overnight.

How to serve?

Using a high glass, rub the lemon on the rim of the glass, then dip it in the salt, put in ice cubes to the glass, pure in the mixed drink and melon & orange juice to enhance the color, garnet with lemon juice and limoncello, decorate with a piece of lemon on the glass rim.

It is done, using a straw to taste the drink, then drink directly. The salt adds flavor.

Well chilled and cool, juicy and full of flavor.

Well done a summer’s delight.

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West Forward

West Forward
Sheer, go West, go Arataki
deep into the tunnel,
the nature expands,
the old Kauri trees hug around us;
Tall to hail,
lower branches bending to hold all reaching hands;
the rumple of the dam water does not
make us age in the wrinkle,
but the blink of the lover’s eyes,
it is where the beautiful faces mirror,
the creeping loves see to the water,
respond to the sweat, and
merry hearts of the dam workers,
from the rushing falling of the water.

The rugged, rough, broad, bearded men
existed in the rails, the river bridge, the pipelines.
On the chest, the lady’ s comfort;
the shoulder, brought the hikers’ pleasures;
the hands of every stones in the creek.
The thirst, the West workers’ day desire
is the moment, the Aucklanders’ like,
to hear the poem echoed in the swirling turbine,
to experience the falling pleasures of the water.

I loathe the muddy, hilly, slippy roads;
I loathe the narrow, risky, tricky, winding tracks,
but the sight of the rails, the long pipelines,
the cement, wood bridge,
the metal, the cement pipelines,
I can not complain.

who cares of the fishing quota
for pleasures it does, but the fairness,
of what public means,
bigger than the industry.
Another thing, we do not swarm the beach
with all the modern fantasies,
only some deep, secret happiness.

The crash waters of Piha,
is our paradise of wild dream
to conquer, to forgive,
to catch up the moment.
The innocent men,
you know you see us go through the water,
see you as gentlemen,
tender hearts,
waving hands as the tram moves along.

Where is the Hilary’ treasures,
hidden in the bush,
I guess,the shinny tears of the mosses,
green and fluffy like spring lamps on the fresh greens.
In rest, the birds chirping always bring your merry faces,
the thick branches still stretch out
as your hands grasping on ours.
A boulder in the hill is like a thrown gravel
into the lake of the bush,
knocking on your heart.
oh, wake up,
my men, your sleep gives so much silence
I want to sing, to dance
as your little kid.
Your honestness belongs
in this West, you remain as the fairness goes.

One Spring

Oh´╝îfalling leaves, wild plum flowers, white petals, brighter than fresh flowers on the land; Small and white blossoms, bunches and bunches, tight and open, one cluster to another, almost touching both. How the Azaleas could make such a Spring story with all the falling petals, red on the earth, such a fresh, fancy carpet? More Brilliant than the Poppy flowers for the young soldiers, a celebration of love and passion, while the Poppy is so fragile, so lonely.
Passing by a young man, whose pocket with two pinky purple magnolia flowers’ heads showing through the light blue costume, his light smile, such a romance.

The coral tree, red with bird’s beak, high on the King’s volcano. There are actually two, facing each other, embracing the red roofs of the Eden village, the last remains of the ocean of life. 3 months to Christmas, they are the fore messengers of the Puhutukawa.

Rustic Mt Albert, all the way canal leads to the foot of the hill. Secluded ball field crowned with sunset, long grass, rocky stones, such a gorgeously wild area.

Thinking back the Jazz band, flowered maids in the Cornwall park, spring indeed comes with the last blossom of daffodil.

Summer Muriwhai

Mid Oct, Muriwhai
Coastal sour plum flowers
Creep wildly
On slopes
Also inland with fresh ocean air.
With sunflower’ proudness in yellow
Water lily’s shyness in pink

nasturtiums invades
Climbing more vividly
Orange and yellow dotted between
Like poppies head up
In Giverny
Monet loves wild flower

While there it is invading
Here it is habitat
Just a little breath of ocean air
Make them survive

In the dryness of afternoon heat
Hanging clothes on the line
In a territory of motor home
no wind, no noise

Lonely picnic tables
Everyone use a shade
here it is dinner time under the sunlight
Sleeping in a closed cabinet

Tide made a cave, channel in the hill
even bats do not live in.
Why are we living here for?
To sneer on the real home?

it is home here,
The reason we want to live alike
those flowers

Sunshine North Shore

Sparkling water
Sea Urchin spikes

Fall of tide
Pancake bluff teethe
Stone of scone

In this rock forest
refluent sandstone
Ear shaping leveled as steps

Gracefully standing maids
Surround the spa water
it is the bathing place

In the deep blue fosse
Pink stones gloom
At the shadow of the naked sun

When are the fairies coming
Honor them the ribbon of kelp
Sheer sucker grown too
Sea grapes say

Manuka flowers smile, flocking
Birch trees wave, in a queue
Nikau hugs

Soon, with an excitement
Upset milky stream in Tiffany blue
Blends into the vast blue of
Aegean Sea

Here we see coming three fairies
Side by side
The true, the good, the beautiful

Coronation in red
Sunny Rata and
moon alike coral tree flower

Crowned in golden Kowhai
Accompany by the North Island robins

Cradle through the sea
Rest in Puhoi
Bless the peace of Bohemia