Christall Lowe prepping an oven hāngi with a tarata branch. Photo / Ian Cooper
Christall Lowe prepping an oven hāngi with a tarata branch. Photo / Ian Cooper
By Mark Story
Polly and I bumped into each other a week ago.
She smelled exquisite from across the room and had a bubbly disposition. I’m thinking long-term. More on Polly later.
But for context, we met over a feed of “next level” hāngi at the Farmhouse Kitchen near Havelock North, where foodie, author and photographer Christall Lowe was hosting her unique Kai Workshop as part of Winter F.A.W.C!
Those who know me know I love cooking, particularly if the fire’s involved. Fewer know I’ve had a hankering to put down my own hāngi - but have never had the stones to do it.
So, Christall’s above-ground method using a conventional oven was a culinary windfall.
About a dozen guests gathered to use native flora the likes of tarata (lemonwood), kawakawa and matipou to line the base of baking dishes. We covered the foliage with large cabbage leaves, added meat, herbs, watercress, veg, seasoning, balls of stuffing and half a cup of water for the steam source.
(Pardon the amuse-bouche, but can stuffing still be called “stuffing” if it isn’t stuffed inside anything?)
Anyway, reverse the layers, hence, more cabbage leaves atop the kai, seal the edges as best you can, then top with more natives, two sheets of foil to cover, and hit the oven for two hours at 200C.
Tune in later for the unveiling.
Polly, the seductive starter bug, is rumoured to be about 80 years old. Photo / Christall Lowe
Polly, the sourdough starter, was named after our host’s nana, who was gifted to her by an elder relative.
She’s been frothing life into traditional Māori rēwena bread for about 80 years. She’s a marriage of mashed potato, flour and natural yeasts, kept alive in jars for generations. “It’s like a member of the family, you need to nurture it, care for it.”
Eight minutes of kneading a basic dough and the loaves were rising.
In the downtime, we cut fingers of previously-made rēwena, dipped them in condensed milk thinned with a little extra milk, and then fried them with hot butter in a nice play on French toast or bread and butter pudding. (Best left to cool to develop a delicious crunch.)
Guests enjoy the aroma of their first loaves of rēwena. Photo / Mark Story
As with every hāngi, the unveiling is a gift to the nose. Lifting the foil was like a sunny bushwalk after rain - steam, earth and heat. We ate lunch infused with a herby, hedgerow greatness.
Driving home with the car filling with the bouquet of still-warm rēwena and Polly in the passenger seat, I reflected on the best sort of cooking: ceremonial, hyper-local, respectful and endemic. This was cultural nourishment at its best.
* Mark Story is the deputy editor of Hawke’s Bay Today. He has particular expertise in covering court, the arts, anything endemic to Aotearoa and enjoys writing about food.
