The Spirit of Manaakitanga: Food, Family, and Friendship in New Zealand

What does it really mean to care for others through food — and how does that shape who we are?

In this episode, Paula takes us on a journey to New Zealand, where her earliest memories of generosity, gathering, and good food were formed. From fishing, harvesting for mussels on the beach to backyard hangi feasts and the comfort of warm pikelets, she shares the simple, soulful flavors that defined her childhood.

But this conversation is about more than recipes. It’s about manaakitanga — the deep-rooted Māori value of hospitality and care — and how those lessons stay with us long after the table is cleared.

Paula also opens up about her family’s history, reading a treasured "letter" that reveals courage, sacrifice, and the power of home.

In this episode, you’ll hear:

• The tastes and textures of Paula’s New Zealand childhood
• Why manaakitanga is more than just hospitality — it’s a way of life
• The magic of cooking in the earth with a traditional hangi
• A personal family "letter" that weaves together past and present

This is an episode not only about food, but also about belonging.

HELPFUL LINKS

• Try the featured recipe from this episode: Katy's Grilled Mussels
• Check out the restaurant mentioned in this episode: First Mates Last Laugh
• Get my free Travel Planning Tool

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SAY HELLO

In My Kitchen creates connections one dish at a time, by exploring culture through food. I do this through unique culinary workshops, speaking engagements, and of course, this podcast.

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Transcript

Hi, I'm Paula Mohammed, and welcome to In My Kitchen with Paula. This podcast is a gathering place for culinary adventurers who love to travel. Every week, we'll come together with chefs, cookbook authors, talented home cooks, and everyone in between to talk about their story and their unique dish. Using food as the vehicle, we'll take a ride into the ins and outs of their culture and country.

Come on, let's get this party started.

Today I'm here to talk about one of my most favorite subjects, and that is New Zealand, and also my life growing up in New Zealand. Oftentimes my family, especially my sons, will tease me that it doesn't take long before I meet someone and you'll hear that I'm from New Zealand and that my great-great-great-grandfather was a Māori chief.

Uh, it's true.

I do do that because I had such a connection to the story of my great-great-great-grandfather, especially because where he lived and where he was chief is where we would go as babies, children, teens, to spend time on the family farm in New Zealand. And this is in the Mangakahia Valley. So more on that later, but for now, I want to dive into a little bit about exploring culture through food or the foods of New Zealand.

I recently came back, two days ago actually, from a trip to New Zealand.

And this was the type of trip where it was not packed full of things to do, but it felt busy. And it reminded me of the trips back to New Zealand that we would make when I was younger — like about five, six, seven — this is before we moved to New Zealand. Those trips were all about connecting, as was this one that I did recently. And it was always connecting around food, intentional or not.

Back in the day, we would arrive in Auckland. We might stay a night or two at my Aunt Lyn’s and Uncle Graham’s and visit with my cousins, Stewart and Dave. Or we would just carry on for the two-hour drive up to Pakotai, which is in the Mangakahia Valley. This is where we would be spending the next month or two with my grandparents, and this is on a big, big family farm.

My cousin Kylie and my Aunt Irene and Uncle Doug were down the road on the other farm, and those were some of the best times of my life. On route to the Mangakahia Valley, we had to stop without question in Whangārei. Now, Whangārei is about two hours, two and a half hours north of Auckland. And then the Mangakahia Valley is further from there, about another 45 minutes.

Our family is from what they called Northland, and they also refer to it as the wild north of New Zealand. So this is the north part of the North Island. We’d stop in Whangārei, and this is where I went to school — Whangārei Intermediate, Primary, Girls’ High. On these holidays, we’d stop there because we would visit all the aunties.

These are my grandmother’s sisters and also my grandpa’s sister. They’re my great-aunties, and we would do the rounds, and I loved it. I wasn’t bored. I loved it because you would get served a nice beverage, and they would always put out their fresh baking or fresh plates of something delicious.

And everybody had a plate that they were known for. For example, we’d go to my Auntie Cis’s and Uncle Mick’s house, and it would be pikelets. Pikelets are like spongy mini pancakes, served with butter and homemade preserves. I love them.

Then we’d go to Auntie Alva’s. Now, Auntie Alva was actually quite well known for her golf game, but also her chow chow, which is kind of a pickle. But she would have her baked goods too.

We would visit Auntie Lil, who was my grandpa’s sister. And Auntie Lil would often be sitting in her big chair, kind of like a La-Z-Boy chair. She might have a glass of sherry with her as well.

I don’t remember baked goods there, but what I remember are delicious potato chips. Now, potato chips aren’t just any kind of potato chip in New Zealand. For those of you who have been to New Zealand or are from New Zealand, you know what I’m talking about. Growing up, it was the chicken-flavored potato chips that I just loved.

I know that might sound a bit off, but trust me — when you go there, try the Bluebird Chicken Flavoured Potato Chips. On my recent trip, I couldn’t believe how this flavor profile has elevated. They have now taken this simple chicken-flavoured potato chip to, for example, Manuka Honey Soy Chicken Flavoured Chips.

There are about five different types spinning off that chicken flavor. Again, it may not sound like a delicacy, but it’s definitely worth a try.

We’d stop off at all the great aunt and uncle’s houses, and we’d have visits and delicious drinks. The kids would probably be served lime cordial or delicious L&P.

L&P stands for Lemon and Paeroa. And it’s like a fizzy, sweet, lemon-flavored soft drink. It would be considered Kiwiana — like one of those iconic Kiwi foods that you must try while you’re in New Zealand, such as the mince pies and the Sally Lunn buns.

We’d eventually make it to the farm and have our fabulous few months at Grandma and Grandpa’s farm in Pakotai. And Pakotai is where my great-great-great-grandfather also opened up the first school. And the school was rebuilt eventually, but you’ll hear more about that later. But this is a school — it was the Pakotai Native School.

And it’s where my mom and aunt and uncles went. It’s where my cousin Kylie went to school, and actually where my brother John and I would go when we would visit New Zealand. When we were visiting, we would join Kylie and go to the Pakotai School. Mrs. Rika was my teacher, and it was this two-room, three-walled school — so not big.

It opened up outside; you would run around barefoot during the breaks. It was a very iconic, typical country school that you’d find up in the north of New Zealand, and I’m sure in other parts of New Zealand too. It was a haven for kids when we were that age. I loved it there.

On this visit, I was thinking a lot about what I wanted to share with you in terms of the kinds of foods of New Zealand. And you know, doing these podcasts, I get so interested in talking to my guests about the role food played in their life, the dishes unique to where they’re from, the traditional dishes they grew up on, what you can expect to experience in terms of food when traveling there, and how the culture is connected to those foods.

In New Zealand, when I think about it from this perspective, I realize that it’s not so much the foods in particular, but it’s the memories I have from my childhood and as an adult of connecting around food. In my years in New Zealand, as well as with my family in Canada, there was a lot of connecting around food.

There is community. There’s this sense of belonging. Those wonderful, positive emotions that would be evoked around the barbecues, the roast lamb dinners — it’s that feeling of everyone together. And the food quality in New Zealand is so good, especially with the dairy, the meats, and the vegetables, the produce.

And that’s pretty much how we ate on this trip too. We usually cook our own meals and we would have simple dinners — but delicious.

Our first stop was in an area called Matapōuri, which is just outside of Whangārei on the Tutukaka coast. And even though I grew up going to school in Whangārei, I’d actually never been to this area. And I highly recommend it if you make it up north. It is beautiful.

If you get our In My Kitchen newsletter, you would have read about how I record certain moments and experiences in my travel journal to use as a visualization tool or meditation tool later on. I write down lots of detail about what I’m feeling, seeing, tasting, and it helps me bring back all those wonderful feelings over and over again. One of those locations is Whale Bay on the Tutukaka Coast. Try and check it out if you’re up there.

On this trip, some other fond memories were around when my brother’s friend, Shaun, came up from Auckland to go surfing at Sandy Bay. On the way back, they stopped in and said hi, with John, and sent John down to the car to pull up the Sally Lunn buns that he had brought for us to try. And these are from his favorite bakery.

First of all, if you don’t know what a Sally Lunn bun is — they’re like a doughy white bun that has this icing on top with coconut flakes. The icing might be bright pink or it might be white. On Fridays at school, it was a treat to get to buy our lunch, and I would always get my mince pie, my apple juice, and a Sally Lunn bun.

Actually — no, it was not a Sally Lunn bun. It was the iconic New Zealand doughnut, different than the doughnuts we get here. This is an oval-shaped doughnut with a fake cream icing in the center. It sounds terrible, but it is delicious.

Anyway, Shaun came up from Auckland with a Sally Lunn bun. If you want to try one, try and get it from his favorite bakery. So heading out of Whangārei to go up north on Manu Road, before you get to the hospital, you’ll see a bakery on the right-hand side, and I believe it has a yellow storefront.

Very common in most of the podcasts that I have done is the role of hospitality and how highly valued it is. And this is definitely true of New Zealand. You’ll hear people often say how much they love New Zealand and they will comment on how friendly the people are.

And it’s true. People invite you into their homes. They want to learn about you. They’re open to you learning about them. It’s a real wonderful spirit. And when you’re visiting people or people are coming to visit you, they’re always going to bring a plate of something — whether it’s carrot cake, pavlova, shortbread, the Sally Lunn buns like Shaun brought up — the list goes on.

The valuing of this connection that happens around food is actually a huge part of the Māori tradition. Good food is central to the spirit of manaakitanga. Manaakitanga is the Māori tradition of hospitality.

And that now brings me to the hāngī. If you type into a search engine, traditional foods of New Zealand, the first thing that’s going to pop up is a hāngī. And that’s spelled H-Ā-N-G-Ī. This was a traditional method of cooking that the Māori used.

You basically dig a hole in the ground. You light a fire with stones in there — volcanic stones work best because they retain the heat. Once the embers are burned down, you scrape them off the stones. You’ve got your hot stones, and then you put your food — which now is usually wrapped in tinfoil or put in baskets — onto those hot rocks.

Traditionally, they would have been wrapped in leaves. Then you put wet sacks or wet cloths over top, and that’s going to create the steam. And then you pile the dirt back on.

After a trip or two to New Zealand when we were little, I remember my dad being back in Canada — we lived in a suburb of Vancouver — and he and his friend, who was also from New Zealand (my dad was, obviously, from Pakistan), they created their own hāngī. I remember being a kid about six or seven years old, and they spent the whole afternoon in the backyard drinking beers. They had built their hāngī, they put the food down there, and then spent about three to four hours drinking beers and waiting for the food to cook.

And we had friends coming around, and I remember running around and waiting for it. I don’t actually remember eating it that time — maybe by the time it was ready, it was past my bedtime! They say about three to four hours of cooking time, but I would argue that it could take a lot longer depending on how hot your rocks are, I guess, and how much beer the chef is drinking.

In that time, though, you can see people gather around. There’s a sense of community; they’re creating community around the hāngī. After the cooking time is over, the dirt’s taken off, the wet cloths are pulled back, and you’ve got this smoky-flavored meal.

The food that’s traditionally in a hāngī are root vegetables, meat, shellfish, fish. What I remember from the hāngī that I’ve had are a root vegetable called kūmara, which I love. So kūmara, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and lamb or pork. But I understand that fish is also done quite a bit as well. And it comes out and then you have this shared communal meal.

On my recent trip, I was surprised to see — because I hadn’t seen this before — hāngī trucks. So these are takeaway trucks where you can buy your own hāngī, and you’re not buying for 50 people. They wrap a meal — so you’d have your vegetable, your meat, etc. — in tinfoil, cook it in the ground, and then have them in the trucks to serve. I have a good source — my cousin — who’s told me that a good hāngī truck, if you’re going to be up north near the Bay of Islands, as you come into Paihia, there’s one on the left-hand side, what we call the Pipi Beach. So you’ll be able to figure it out when you’re there — ask around.

I’ve got to be transparent and let you know that I’ve never really loved the flavor of the hāngī — it’s a bit too smoky for me. But many people rave about it, so it’s probably a thing that you should try at least once in your life.

Before I talk to you about pipis, I just want to mention fish. We used to do a lot of fishing in New Zealand, and we’d catch snapper, trevally, kahawai. I was surprised that fish is so expensive now in New Zealand, and it’s not as prevalent as I expected it to be. So the best way is to go catch your own if you can — nothing beats fresh.

But I have to tell you about a restaurant where I had dinner with my cousin Kylie and Theo in Auckland. The restaurant had the best smoked kahawai I’ve had in a long time. We had a fantastic John Dory and a blue cod, actually. If you’re in Auckland, try and visit First Mate’s Last Laugh. That’s First Mate’s Last Laugh. And try their smoked kahawai.

Okay, so back to the pipis. I love them. So what is a pipi? Most people will say it’s like a clam. I think it’s quite a bit different. It looks a lot like a clam, except it’s a much prettier shell — longer, more oval, and smooth. And the meat inside the pipi itself is sweet.

What I remember — my fond memories — is that we had a holiday place in Kerikeri when I lived in New Zealand. And we would have friends come and stay with us, and we’d go out to our beach there and pick a bucket of pipis. Somebody, probably Mum, would cook them at lunchtime, steam them. And then everybody would gather around the pot. You’d come in from wherever you are — mostly the ocean — and there would be a bowl of pipis, melted butter with lemon, and a pot of steamed pipis.

There’s this smell that comes off the pot, which is — I can’t describe it, but I can almost taste it. It’s fantastic. And then you dip your pipi in the butter and lemon juice and eat it. But what I love to do is have a slice of bread, dip my pipis in, put them on my bread, put another piece on top, and have a pipi sandwich. I did manage to get a handful of pipis on this trip and cook them up. I didn’t have enough to make a sandwich.

Pipis are, unfortunately, getting harder and harder to find, but you just have to be a little bit more determined, I think.

Okay, next — the mussels. For those of you that follow In My Kitchen and get our newsletter, you definitely have received a recipe from me for my Portuguese mussels. But my love of mussels started way before that — started in my childhood in New Zealand, picking our own mussels off the rocks.

Now, New Zealand is famous for their green shell mussels, but I actually like the little blue ones better — except for one way, which I’ll talk about in a second. We used to pick those from our beach house in Kerikeri. And Katy Coppolino — who you’ve probably heard me mention — and her family would be up staying with us. Sadly, Katy passed away a couple of years ago. But Katy, her husband Italo, and Roberta and Antonella would come and visit us.

Katy was a Kiwi who married an Italian and then lived in Italy for many, many years. So I always considered her more Italian. She was a fabulous cook and did this very simple Italian-inspired mussel dish. We’d pick the mussels, get a few buckets, clean them — you’ve got to take the barnacles off and pull out the beards.

Then Katy would just put them in a pot with some garlic, parsley, chopped tomatoes, and white wine. Put a lid on it, let them do their thing, and then — again — take the lid off. And the scent of the steam coming out brings me right back to those days. We would just pick them out of the pot and eat them that way.

On this trip, Roberta reminded me, too, about another way Katy did them, which I loved. So these little blue mussels — already steamed — and then put them on a large roasting pan or baking sheet, and put them under the grill. But before that — let me see if I can get this right — it was breadcrumbs, Parmesan cheese, garlic, and parsley. I think that’s correct. Sprinkled on top and grilled under the broiler — and they are so good. I’ll put those recipes in the show notes. This has been a way to let Katy’s memory live on, and I think I’m going to have to make a pot of those mussels tomorrow night — most definitely.

Before I talk to you about pipis, I just want to mention fish. We used to do a lot of fishing in New Zealand, and we’d catch snapper, trevally, kahawai. I was surprised that fish is so expensive now in New Zealand, and it’s not as prevalent as I expected it to be. So the best way is to go catch your own if you can — nothing beats fresh.

But I have to tell you about a restaurant where I had dinner with my cousin Kylie and Theo in Auckland. The restaurant had the best smoked kahawai I’ve had in a long time. We had a fantastic John Dory and a blue cod, actually. If you’re in Auckland, try and visit First Mate’s Last Laugh. That’s First Mate’s Last Laugh. And try their smoked kahawai.

Okay, so back to the pipis. I love them. So what is a pipi? Most people will say it’s like a clam. I think it’s quite a bit different. It looks a lot like a clam, except it’s a much prettier shell — longer, more oval, and smooth. And the meat inside the pipi itself is sweet.

What I remember — my fond memories — is that we had a holiday place in Kerikeri when I lived in New Zealand. And we would have friends come and stay with us, and we’d go out to our beach there and pick a bucket of pipis. Somebody, probably Mum, would cook them at lunchtime, steam them. And then everybody would gather around the pot. You’d come in from wherever you are — mostly the ocean — and there would be a bowl of pipis, melted butter with lemon, and a pot of steamed pipis.

There’s this smell that comes off the pot, which is — I can’t describe it, but I can almost taste it. It’s fantastic. And then you dip your pipi in the butter and lemon juice and eat it. But what I love to do is have a slice of bread, dip my pipis in, put them on my bread, put another piece on top, and have a pipi sandwich. I did manage to get a handful of pipis on this trip and cook them up. I didn’t have enough to make a sandwich.

Pipis are, unfortunately, getting harder and harder to find, but you just have to be a little bit more determined, I think.

Okay, next — the mussels. For those of you that follow In My Kitchen and get our newsletter, you definitely have received a recipe from me for my Portuguese mussels. But my love of mussels started way before that — started in my childhood in New Zealand, picking our own mussels off the rocks.

Now, New Zealand is famous for their green shell mussels, but I actually like the little blue ones better — except for one way, which I’ll talk about in a second. We used to pick those from our beach house in Kerikeri. And Katy Coppolino — who you’ve probably heard me mention — and her family would be up staying with us. Sadly, Katy passed away a couple of years ago. But Katy, her husband Italo, and Roberta and Antonella would come and visit us.

Katy was a Kiwi who married an Italian and then lived in Italy for many, many years. So I always considered her more Italian. She was a fabulous cook and did this very simple Italian-inspired mussel dish. We’d pick the mussels, get a few buckets, clean them — you’ve got to take the barnacles off and pull out the beards.

Then Katy would just put them in a pot with some garlic, parsley, chopped tomatoes, and white wine. Put a lid on it, let them do their thing, and then — again — take the lid off. And the scent of the steam coming out brings me right back to those days. We would just pick them out of the pot and eat them that way.

On this trip, Roberta reminded me, too, about another way Katy did them, which I loved. So these little blue mussels — already steamed — and then put them on a large roasting pan or baking sheet, and put them under the grill. But before that — let me see if I can get this right — it was breadcrumbs, Parmesan cheese, garlic, and parsley. I think that’s correct. Sprinkled on top and grilled under the broiler — and they are so good. I’ll put those recipes in the show notes. This has been a way to let Katy’s memory live on, and I think I’m going to have to make a pot of those mussels tomorrow night — most definitely.

Elizabeth Ann Wharepapa (1849–1921): A Letter to My Children and Grandchildren, and Their Children and Grandchildren

"I write this before some of you were born. However, it seems appropriate for us to talk as I near the end of my time, to allow you to see my life and the direction it took. I am only able to share snippets of my life, as writing tires me.

It is 1863, but I shall return to a time when even I was not born. The year was 1831. Captain John Reid, my dear Papa, went out to New Zealand and met with a fine chief, Te Pomare. A friendship developed between them, and now Papa is keen to meet with Te Pomare and to invite him to visit with us at our Marylebone residence.

I am looking forward to the visit because I have heard much of the beauty of New Zealand natives, and as yet, I have not set eyes on any. I have met him. He is such a ruggedly handsome man, and the tattoos on his face are quite beautiful. I am sure that our children will have these markings too. Goodness, I am being forward, but he has quite captured my imaginings.

His name is Kamareira Te Hautakiri Wharepapa — so I call him Mari. In return, he calls me Rīhipeti. Papa still sees me as a child. I am nearly sixteen, despite the fact that I have been in service at the estate which Papa manages these past two years.

Mari visits almost daily, and he calls me his sweet-faced English girl. I do believe that he is fascinated by my smallness and my blue eyes. Today is the 31st of March, 1864. Mari and I were married at St. Anne’s Parish Church, Limehouse, on the north side of the Thames, a few miles below Tower Bridge. And I am delightfully happy, despite my apprehension about leaving England and the knowledge that the arrival of our first child is in a couple of months.

My dear Mari is so handsome, and I am quite the envy of my friends. Early this morning, the 31st of May, 1864, off Cape Good Hope, our daughter — whom Mari and I have named Maraea Good Hope Wharepapa — was born. We have been at sea on the clipper ship Flying Foam since the 4th of April, and our daughter’s arrival is the happiest event to date.

I have been ill with seasickness, which has been a common complaint, and being heavy with child has not helped matters. Fourteen days out from Gravesend, stories of a ghost appearing in the women’s quarters were going about. A thorough investigation revealed that the ‘ghost’ was a certain third mate, Mr. Brock.

Three weeks out, we also had some of the crew plotting mutiny. This came to a head on the 17th of April during Crossing the Line festivities, when drink got a little out of hand and the sailors got into a fight. Captain Perkins ordered the offenders to be placed in irons. But his orders were refused by the rest of the crew.

The captain then called upon the passengers to assist him and his officers in restoring discipline. Although I and the other women and children were cleared from the decks when the fracas first broke out, I know that my dear Mari and several of the other passengers armed themselves with revolvers and other weapons and formed themselves into a strong defense party.

Some of the crew have been placed in irons, and there is much discontent. The events of that particular incident are relayed to me by some of the English-speaking passengers, as Mari and I are still unable to communicate clearly in a common language. His English is very much better than my Māori, though.

Evening, 13th of July, 1864, and I am weary with the constant anticipation that the last four days have brought. We rounded North Cape on the 9th of July in fine, warm weather, which quickly deteriorated to a fierce headwind, which has tried the patience of both crew and passengers alike.

Nothing can be more tantalizing than to be coasting along the land and everyone looking forward to the time when they could be treading on it, and not being able to get to the right port. Auckland is now in sight, some sixteen miles ahead, and the wind is coming right at us. The chances are that we might anchor in the harbor, and we may not.

Maraea is such a sweet baby, and Mari is such a caring husband and father that the waiting is more bearable than it might otherwise be. Mari assures me that we will spend a little time in Auckland before making our final journey — the destination being some 150 miles further north. Although I long to be in my own place, I am anxious, too, because there are no English people in the valley which is to be my home.

April 1872. I have been living in the Mangakahia Valley these past nine years, and in all that time, I have had no direct contact with Europeans. My patience has been pressed since coming to New Zealand, but I have sought God’s help, and He has lent me His hand in times of trial.

I have spent these years teaching Mari and the children rudimentary English, and he has taught me Māori. I get along comfortably with the Māori, but I know that if there were a school and a clergyman at hand, I would feel lighter. I have tried to help the Māori to be civilized and more industrious, which is a much easier task now that I can talk to them in their own language.

I often receive letters from my dear friend Charlotte Weal, who lives in Bridport. She has helped me to see the light in times of despair and darkness. I have learned to be patient and to bear up, asking God’s help. Charlotte always urges me to turn to Him when my isolation becomes too much for me. She has sent me some pretty pictures to amuse the children and some stories, which I shall read to them.

I do wish that I had adult company to talk with in proper English, but I suppose that I should be grateful for the children. I now have five daughters who are so fine and bring me such joy.

My dear friend, Mrs. Colenso, who lives in Paihia, also writes and keeps me informed of the goings-on in New Zealand. She sent me some seeds last year, and I have a delightful garden with vegetables which are English. I have a nice crop of parsnips and carrots and other vegetables for winter’s use. I have planted some parsley, mint, sage, and rosemary.

The Māori have such different tastes. I also have some pigs which are unlike the wild beasts roaming the bush. It was lovely to have bacon, which tasted like the bacon I remember from home. I have learned to be a good farmer’s wife, and I know that if I had a few English people near me to talk to, and a church and a clergyman at hand, I would get along more brightly.

2nd of July, 1872. What a wonderful day this has been. Mari has told me that if I had not been at the meeting with the locals where he was to read a letter from the Native Minister, he would have been quite lost. At last, Mari’s plea to Queen Victoria that all our children and all our youth may be taught will come true. The school will open with a roll of thirty-five children and some adults.

Although I am delighted by this recent turn of events, I am also experiencing some disquiet because my relationship with Mari has become quite strained. I fear that he is dissatisfied because we have not had a son, and though he loves the girls very much, a chief needs a son to carry on the line. It is like this in England, too.

9th of December, 1877. I suppose you all think me very evil. But I can assure you that I think of you often. As Mrs. Colenso is coming to Auckland at Christmas, I should like one of you to come with her — that is, if your Papa will consent. I suppose he will not, but you can only ask. Write and let me know. I shall feel pleased to see any of you.

My new home, which your dear Papa has so generously provided, is in Parnell. And I would be so happy to see you children here with me. Although he has given me the freedom to leave Mangakahia, I know he’ll never allow any of you to live with me. That makes me very sad. However, you can visit with me when your Papa says so, and of course, when you’re older.

August. Dear Mari has been dead a year now, and I am about to marry my own Charles Samuel Lakey, whom I have lived with these past forty years or more. My Mary Faith and her husband Thomas are to be our witnesses at the ceremony. Charles and I have a family of our own who have grown up knowing their Uncle Mari and their Wharepapa sisters because of the many visits that Mari and his relatives have made to our home during these past years.

I’ve also been fortunate to have my grandchildren come to stay when they have been attending the St. Stephen’s Boarding School at Parnell. Mari and Charles got along quite splendidly in the end. My first family are all grown and married with children of their own.

Maraea Good Hope married William Rudolph and is living in the Mangakahia. Edith Harriet married Pererika Heke from Whangaroa and also lives in the Mangakahia. Eliza Ann married William Archibald Allison and lives in the Mangakahia too. Mary Faith married Thomas Ryan and lives in the Barrier. And finally, Susan married Wati Ruwhiu from Ōtaua and moved to Te Araroa in 1912.

Though they are grown women and mothers, they will always be my darling daughters. It’s time for me to end this musing and prepare for my wedding. I know that what I have done has not always met with the approval of either the Church, my family and friends in England, or my children. But Mari’s support has helped me to live with my decisions in a way that may have been intolerable otherwise. I trust that you will know me from my writings and that you will not judge me too harshly.

Your ever-affectionate Mama and great-grandma,
 Lizzie Wharepapa

I am sure you can understand why I was so fascinated with the story and the different themes that come out of it that were so unusual for that time.

I'm going to end it there. It’s been great to finally share my New Zealand perspective and my connection to Aotearoa.

Thank you for tuning into another episode of In My Kitchen with Paula. This was a special episode for me to share with you. For years during my twenties and into my thirties, I had a dream of making a film based on Wharepapa and this letter. So obviously, that didn’t come to fruition. But this is the next best thing — to be able to share this story with you all on this podcast show.

If you are planning to go to New Zealand, especially to Northland, please reach out if I can help you in any way. And again, if you enjoyed this episode, it really helps me get this show in front of other culinary adventurers like you if you can like and review the show on Apple Podcasts.

Happy cooking, happy travels.