'This Matariki was going to be simple – next thing we've invited the whole whānau'

Christall Lowe (Ngāti Kauwhata, Ngāti Maniapoto, Tainui) is an award-winning cookbook author, food photographer and stylist who lives with her whānau in the Manawatū. She shares her plans for Matariki (and her incredible recipe for kūmara cake with orange toffee sauce).

Photographs: Helen Lea Wall

For us as a whānau Matariki changes every year. First and foremost it’s about honouring our loved ones who have recently passed. So every year is quite different. Last year we lost my grandfather during the Matariki period so we were in tangihanga. It was a different and quite poignant way to acknowledge and remember him. He was the last in our entire whānau left from that generation so we honoured him deeply.

This year’s our first year without him so we’re remembering him and my nana (who passed away in 2019) by cooking their favourite kai and using their treasured heirlooms – my grandfather’s cast iron pots, my nana’s table cloth; we set the table with their crockery and glassware and it’s almost like they’re with us. These pieces of theirs also have stories to tell, they’ve been through years of family feasts and do’s, so using them is quite special.

When my grandparents were with us, we’d have cook-ups in their backyard, light the fire, put down a hāngī if we were that way inclined, anything from a simple boil-up to a marinated pork, whatever happened on the day. But it would always be a time of getting together and remembering and reflecting.

As children we weren’t really aware of Matariki. Even though our whānau took any opportunity to come together and eat, and celebrate, we only started acknowledging it in the last 10 or 15 years. Even my grandparents didn’t grow up with it. Or not as such. My grandfather was very in tune with maramataka, the Māori lunar calendar, the seasons, the harvest of autumn, preserving through winter. He was always gathering the spoils of the season, whether it be kahawai or whitebait, and then preserving it by smoking it, and he taught us how to do all that. The Matariki period was almost instinctive to him, and the way he lived.

My love of preserving kai in our pātaka, our storehouse, is very influenced by my grandfather who even as a young boy would catch tuna (eel) and smoke it. The old smoker is still sitting in his backyard, it’s this old rusty fridge that he smoked everything in for his last 50 years. His garden is still there too, at the homestead, it’s not quite as flourishing as it used to be but it’s still there.

My kids are 16, 13 and 11. They’re in bilingual Māori education so they’ve always celebrated Matariki with a hāngī for the whole school and I’ve always been involved with that as well. All the schools in our area come together to perform kapa haka and it’s a really lovely time. I’m about to go and watch my youngest take the stage with her rōpū.

This year we were going to have a very simple kai but then the other day my husband said to me ‘what are we going to do for Matariki?’ I said, ‘I haven’t thought far ahead, we’ve been so busy!’ and he said ‘what about a big feast with kai representing each of the stars?' Without hesitation I replied ‘alright I’m in’. We sat at the table and crafted our menu. It’s full on, with kai related to five of the stars. The next thing you know, we’ve invited the whole whānau – my husband’s family from Hawkes Bay, and my family in the Manawatū.

For Tipuānuku (the star relating to the earth) we have hāngī poaka (pork), reme (lamb), kūmara, rīwai (potatoes), paukena (pumpkin), with watercress and rongoā (native greenery to infuse the vegetables and meat with the flavours of the earth), taro with kīrimi kokonati (coconut cream) and rēwena (bread made with potatoes). Oh and steamed pudding too – a must.

For Tipuārangi (the star relating to the sky and elevated food from the trees) we’re having honey soy heihei (which is chicken because I couldn’t get mutton bird) and āporo (apple) pie with kirīmi (cream and ice cream).

For Waitī (relating to fresh water) we’re having īnanga (white bait) fritters with tuna (eel) dip, sapasui (with rice noodles) and watercress salad.

For Waitā (ocean) we’re having pāua rissoles with persimmon and kawakawa salsa, kōura kirīmi (creamy crayfish), ika mata (raw fish) and kūtai kīnaki, marinated mussels – that’s my dad’s specialty, and they’ve been on every festive dinner table since the 1980s.

For Waipunarangi (rainwater) we’re having kawakawa lemonade and ārani (orange) sorbet.

We don’t have anything specific for Ururangi – the star of the wind. But we live in the Manawatū, so the wind will be at the party, don’t worry about it.

For our whānau, Matariki is seen as a period of time that’s like a break or a reset. A brief space to have a little rest, or hibernation if you like, before the season changes again. It’s a chance to honour and remember the past year, but also to look forward to the new year ahead. I’ve got my second book coming out in mid-October. I can’t tell you the name of it just yet but it’s a sister to my first book Kai, and it’s about feasting, gathering and manaakitanga (hospitality and generosity). It celebrates coming together and sharing a bountiful basket of kai.

Today, I’ve shared my recipe for kūmara cake wih orange toffee sauce. The cake brings together a couple of the Matariki stars, you’ve got Tipuānuku (earth) with the kūmara and Tipuārangi (sky) with the orange. So earthiness and zestiness and it’s just a really lovely warming cake with orange caramel that you can pour over it for extra deliciousness. Serve it with cream or icecream and it’s even better.

I think of it’s the Aotearoa version of a carrot cake. A mid-winter hug on a plate.

As told to Emily Simpson.