During the tangi preparations for King Tuheitia Pootatau Te Wherowhero VII recently, RNZ social media journalist Sam Robinson captured some beautiful scenes in the hanawiti (tea tent) at Turangawaewae Marae, where mourners expressed their appreciation for the kai prepared by an army of 'aunties'. When he asked Paula Graham, one of the ringawera (kitchen workers), the secret of making the perfect 'old styles cupcake', Graham smiled before she answered. 'Love,' she said. 'Just the love.'

That kind of love generously seasons Kai Feast, the second helping from Ockham Book Award winner Christall Lowe (Ngāti Kauwhata, Tainui, Ngāti Maniapoto). Judges called her 2022 book, Kai: Food Stories and Recipes from my Family Table, 'the Edmonds cookbook for our time,' noting how Lowe’s writing and recipes provided valuable insight into te ao Māori. When she reviewed the book for Kete, New Zealand culinary legend Lauraine Jacobs was excited by Kai’s blend of indigenous and local ingredients, culture and authenticity.

Kai Feast returns to the same territory, as Lowe mines a rich seam of Kiwi soul food that’s deeply rooted in personal and whānau history. Kai Feast is a big, beautiful buffet of a book that in part follows the structure of pepeha (personal introduction) - following the natural cycle of water from the maunga (mountain), awa, roto or moana (river, lake or sea), iwi (tribe, people), hapu (subtribe) to marae. Like its predecessor, Kai Feast tells a very intimate family story. In large part, it’s a heartfelt homage to Lowe’s grandad Don Beadle, 'the hangi pit master who always had a good feed on the go', who died while she was writing it. But it also opens the door on a world of hakari (feasts) in te ao Māori over time, from the records of enormous and elaborate affairs that fed thousands in the 1850s, to the trestle tables set up in the garden that Lowe remembers from her own childhood. 

It makes sense then, that Kai Feast takes a super-sized approach to feeding people. Like any good aunty (and I mean this as a compliment!), Lowe has plenty of sensible, practical and inventive advice - the kind that comes from years of lived experience and handed-down wisdom - for feeding a lot of people. Some recipes are deliberately giant - the magnificent Burnt Sugar Steamed Pudding cooked in an empty 3kg peaches tin serves 20+, Grandad’s gloriously retro pineapple Glazed Ham serves 15+ - but others are at a more manageable size. An Oven-Cooked Hangi with Native Rongoa, for example, scales the famous feast down to something that you don’t need to dig up the back yard to cook. 

There’s no question that Lowe is currently one of Aotearoa’s best food stylists and photographers. Her images are beautifully composed and lit; her styling is meticulous but not overdone. She extends this kind of attention to detail to recipe writing too, with clear, friendly instructions. The Parāoa (bread) section shows this to best effect, as Lowe explains how to build and nurture a rewena starter, then turn that starter into a soft, fluffy no-knead loaf. (she has genius tips for other bread and baking, and it’s extremely hard to turn the page past the kūmara doughnuts with kawakawa sugar, too). Similarly, a section explaining how to identify and use ngā tipu (native plants), shines thanks to Lowe’s careful and clever explanations. She wears her experience lightly and shares it wholeheartedly. This, I think, is as important a skill as the many other strings to her bow.

Not all of the recipes in Kai Feast are to my taste, and occasionally some of them feel a little too retro. But it is a beautiful thing to see Lowe put the spotlight on a kind of food-based altruism that feels at risk of disappearing in the mixed-up world we live in. If you’re keen to see generosity come back into fashion, Kai Feast is the book to guide you. 

Lucy Corry is a Wellington journalist and food writer.