I went to my first British barbecue - this country has got it all wrong

The weather in has been unbelievable the last few weeks. The sun has been shining, the skies have been clear and everything about the season has screamed "barbeque". However, having come to London from last year, I have learned one thing: British people do not know how to have a good barbeque.

I recently attended my first ever English barbeque, and was absolutely stunned at the way people in the UK conduct themselves. When I received the invite, I was thrilled. It was like a taste of home where us Kiwis excel at a good backyard get together and so I started planning.

I sent a message with what I could bring - a couple of salads, maybe a jug of margaritas and of course, no barbeque is complete without dessert - this time, I thought a pavlova would be perfect.

Imagine my surprise when the message came back, "No, we don't need to make anything; we've got it all already."

I was impressed! A barbeque for 15 people is a lot of prep work, so I asked what was on the menu. Turns out it was sausages, burger patties and bread with tomato sauce - and of course, some vege patties and skewers for the vegetarian attendees.

No sides? I asked, already knowing the answer. No sides.

I was absolutely baffled. The sides are the best part of a backyard barbie, how could one be held without them?

In New Zealand, when you're an attendee it's expected that you bring a plate - and no, that doesn't mean crockery, it means a side dish. The host usually provides the meat, and will often do a salad or two for good measure, and everyone else brings either sweet or savoury accompaniments or maybe the ingredients needed for a charcuterie board.

The result is an absolute feast with plates laden high not only with burgers but salads, corn, fresh produce, cheeses and of course, no shortage of ice cold beers, wine and cocktails.

I couldn't imagine having a barbeque without these things so I refused to abide by this custom. I turned up with an orzo salad, and my freshly made pavlova, having been urged to not bring anything else as it wouldn't be eaten. To the hosts surprise, although not mine, both dishes were a roaring success.

The second thing I was baffled about was the method by which the meat was cooked. To me, a barbeque is a luxury item. In New Zealand, they're gas powered hot plates, big enough to cook at least 10 burgers at once, and if you've got one then you're the nominated host for all the summer.

Here, I was shocked by a circular knee high contraption powered by coals, firestarters and the isobutane from a broken Bic lighter.

How can you cook that much food with any semblance of efficiency on something so tiny?

The answer is - with military-like precision. I can't say I wasn't impressed at the quick switches by the men manning the cooking - and again, the burgers were actually pretty delicious but I could have done without having to constantly move upwind to prevent the smoke making my eyes water.

Although it wasn't what I expected, my first British barbeque was lovely. At its heart, a barbeque is about getting together with the people you love, eating together and enjoying not only the weather, but the community.

Still, I am determined to host the next one at my house, and show everyone how it really should be done.