Many gardeners first learned to love and work the good earth from their parents or grandparents. Others might recall planting their first sunflower with nana. Their tender tales always tell a New Zealand story that is charming, yet utterly alien when I reflect upon my own roots (pun intended!).

I grew up in the tropics, and the flowers, vegetables and gardening stories of my childhood are nearly a world – or at least a whole culture – away from Auckland's tepid summers and sloshy grey winters.

And since February 16 is Chinese New Year, I feel the urge to reflect upon my heritage through horticultural lenses.



Which is where I stumble into strife right away. Chinese New Year – indeed any time of the year – in my native Malaysia that sits right above the equatorial line, is always hot. An old joke is that the weather forecast could only ever offer "hot" or "hotter", and perhaps to heighten the sense of anticipation, "hot with thunderstorm."

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My own horticultural vocabulary was shaped in a land verdant with rainforest and jungle plants transported into steamy, sweltering cities. Humidity stubbornly sits between 80 and 90 per cent year round (97 per cent is not uncommon) and I don't recall ever worrying about mulch.

The land and the climate give us large juicy mangoes and tart pineapples. Curry leaves freshly plucked off the tree; and coconuts too for that matter (when I was a little girl, seaside villagers trained monkeys to pick their coconuts); and kangkung (water spinach), now increasingly available here so I feel compelled to advise that it is best stir-fried with sambal belacan (shrimp paste) after a thorough wash.

I have not found petai (Parkia speciosa) whose English name I just had to Google. Apparently it is called a stink bean or bitter bean, which is an extremely appropriate moniker and makes me long for spicy sambal petai with hot white rice though that would be an antisocial and possibly career-limiting move if I did that anywhere in the office. I fear it is a plant that is simply not in New Zealand (but if anyone knows different, give me a shout!).



And of course, now that I'm going down this garden path, I suddenly also miss rambutan (Nephelium lappaceum) and durian (Durio zibethinus) which should always be addressed as Your Majesty because he is the King of Fruits – granted I once saw some imported ones looking less than regal, in the frozen section of an Asian supermarket but could not bring myself to spend stupid money like that when I well know what the real thing should smell and taste like.



Northland plantsman Russell Fransham, in our last correspondence before he passed away in December, surprised me when he said he had tried to grow them in Northland – neither survives outdoors here, he said.



Possibly more easily available here is pomelo (Citrus maxima). It looks like an XXXL grapefruit and should be handled like one though it is sweeter and juicier, and fabulously refreshing in a Vietnamese-inspired salad. You may be able to find one in a citrus nursery up north as Russell assured me they grow quite comfortably here when grafted onto trifoliata rootstock.



Jambu air (Syzygium aqueum) is another much-missed tropical favourite. I've learned it is also called a rose apple or water-rose apple, which is a strangely appropriate description as it does taste like a slightly sweeter and more watery version of monkey apple or lilly pilly (Syzygium smithi) and looks like an inflated big brother of it too.

Mandarins are considered an auspicious gift during Chinese New Year because its name in Cantonese also sounds like the word for gold.

My own heritage gave me the subtropical foo gwa (bitter gourd or bitter melon), which has been eaten throughout Southeast Asia for generations. It is much-touted for its many health benefits and slowly gaining popularity in New Zealand.

Other everyday fare included lotus root which is usually sliced and boiled in a soup flavoured with dried octopus and pork ribs; dried goji berries (also usually in soup) which my mother always said is good for my eyesight; and many other veges and medicinal herbs that are probably familiar to Kiwis in the North Island who get to enjoy warm(ish) summers but whose English names I have never heard (alas my beloved popo and amah also neglected to tell me the Latin botanical names, and my mum would just tell me to translate from the Chinese script).



In my own tidy suburban garden in the capital city of Kuala Lumpur, I had packed in a few personal favourites. I grew papayas, chillies, long beans (more commonly called noodle beans here), okra and sweet potatoes for their leaves rather than the tuber.

The frangipani tree took pride of place in the front garden but there were also a few banana trees down the side of the house.

Fresh banana leaves impart a wonderful flavour to food and are commonly used as a conveniently biodegradable plate or food wrapper. While I wait for the fruit on my banana tree here to ripen (how I fussed over it in winter), we use its leaves to hold our homemade thosai, and to wrap meats and fish for the barbecue.

Perhaps that is how we will celebrate our Kiwi Chinese New Year this year – a barbecue, rather than more traditional reunion dinner fare. I can't think of a more Kiwi way to celebrate a festive occasion.

And just to ensure an auspicious Year of the Dog, lots and lots of mandarins.