Back to Wanaka (From the Window Seat of 23A)
Seeing Wanaka and the stretch of land beyond the lake—Lake Hawea shimmering like an old friend—I felt this quiet rush of emotion crawl its way from my chest to my eyes. A kind of heavy warmth that sat there. I spotted Black Peak to the left, Treble Cone, Mt Gold, Roys Peak in the distance, and Ruby Island—God, even that tiny dot brought me comfort. It confirmed what I needed to know: I was back.
Just for a little while.
This wasn’t a permanent return—just a couple of pop-ups, all for Emma. Every single one of them.
It’s funny. The feeling that swept over me wasn’t just nostalgia—it was something deeper. A reminder not just of a place, but of a version of myself I once was. Wanaka has that kind of pull. It became a home I chose, and a home that quietly chose me back when I needed it most. Even now, years later, the mountains, the lake, the stillness—it’s like it’s been holding my place without question.
I’ve been gone since the end of 2022. Two years. But stepping off that plane, it felt like no time had passed at all. The mountains still stood watch. The rhythm of the town was still slow, steady, unbothered by the chaos outside. There’s something about that—the way Wanaka holds time differently—that makes it such a healing place.
I’ve lived a life in motion. Twelve years of moving house almost every year since I turned 18. Different cities. Different countries. Different faces. Before that, it was boarding school straight after growing up in my parents’ restaurant. I didn’t really have roots. Just rotations. A constant searching. A quiet hope that maybe somewhere would let me stop running.
Wanaka did that for me.
It let me fall apart. It let me rebuild. No judgment. No demands. Just a quiet place to catch my breath when everything else felt like it was closing in.
Coming back this time, after everything—MasterChef, the pop-ups, the burnout, the love, the noise—it hit me again. That ache in the chest. That quiet reminder of who I was before the world got so loud. And while there was a small, honest pang of sadness knowing I wasn’t staying for good, there was also relief. Relief that some places don’t need you to stay to still be part of you. Wanaka will always be part of me.
These pop-ups weren’t about me though. They were about helping someone who has given so much to others. Emma. Every pop-up sold out, quicker than ever—within 24 hours. It’s beautiful to see people come together like that. To rally. To show up. That’s the magic food has when you use it for more than just feeding people. When you use it to build connections, to lift others up, to be part of something bigger than yourself.
That’s what my pop-ups are all about. A chance to be part of something that isn’t just about food on a plate, but about the people behind it. About community. About showing up for each other. Because at the end of the day, that’s what food has always been for me: a way to heal, a way to connect, and a way to help others find their way home too.
Even if just for a moment.
x Natty
Ps. Sign up to my newsletter below to get these musings straight to your inbox featuring some extra tips and insights into my favourite eats, tunes and thoughts…
