Why the humble Kiwi pie is NZ’s ultimate winter comfort food – Glenn Dwight
The mighty mince and cheese pie is a Kiwi culinary staple. Photo / 123rf
Winter has officially settled in around New Zealand, which means frost on the paddocks, your formal footwear suddenly becomes socks and jandals, and at least one bloke in every smoko room starts describing the weather as “cold enough to freeze the nuts off a brass monkey”, despite nobody owning a cannonball or understanding the old naval storage systems.
And while winter brings plenty of negative things with it, such as power bills that escalate faster than a conversation between a halfback and a referee, and the emotional damage of reaching a point where wearing socks in the shower briefly feels like a reasonable idea, it also brings one of the true heroes of the colder months back into focus.
The humble Kiwi pie.
The funny thing about the Kiwi pie is we almost take it for granted, which feels strange considering it has become one of the great cornerstones of New Zealand life.
Other countries may have national dishes involving centuries of culinary refinement and secret family recipes handed down through generations – but we looked at meat wrapped in what is essentially a pastry kimono and thought, “Genius”, and we were right.
Because honestly, what’s not genius about the pie?
A pie in winter is doing far more than simply feeding people.
It’s basically central heating.
It’s emotional support after a big night.
It’s something to hold while standing on the sideline at 7am on a Saturday while your fingers slowly lose circulation and you briefly wonder if gaming (in a warm lounge) should count as a winter sport.
And a good pie somehow improves almost every situation.
A road trip wouldn’t be the same without the servo saviour.
Not only does it provide nourishment, but it also gives you something to do while one passenger disappears into the service station toilets and another suddenly decides they also “may as well go”.
And unlike many modern foods that arrive with ingredient lists longer than Apple’s terms and conditions (which we all apparently read before clicking “accept”), the pie remains beautifully straightforward.
Pastry. Filling. Heat. A structure so simple and perfectly balanced it almost feels atomic.
Which leads me nicely into the thermonuclear properties of the pie.
Because despite years of police warnings telling us to “blow on the pie”, we all do the same thing.
Tiny test bite. Immediate regret. Small burnt patch on the top of our mouth.
Then we continue eating anyway because the danger makes it exciting.
This does bring up a slight scientific concern surrounding the Kiwi pie, because somehow the centre of the pie is consistently several hundred degrees hotter than the pie warmer it came out of, which shouldn’t technically be possible.
By all known laws of thermodynamics, the pie filling should at least roughly match the temperature of its surroundings. Hmmm.
Now technically pies didn’t originate here.
The ancient Egyptians were apparently wrapping fillings in dough thousands of years ago, and the British certainly helped bring the meat pie tradition to this part of the world.
But somewhere along the journey, New Zealand took the pie and made it entirely our own.
The dairy pie may quietly be one of the great unsung heroes of New Zealand life.
Because on a cold morning, there are few things more reassuring than a hot pie warming your hands while the first bite threatens to remove the roof of your mouth.
Which is why I’ve often wondered why New Zealand doesn’t have an official pie capital.
Taihape went with gumboots, and fair enough, but I can’t help thinking somebody missed a massive opportunity there.
Imagine it. Giant pie statues beside the highway. Pie festivals.
A town mascot dressed as pastry. Tourists posing beside an enormous mince and cheese pie before a game of “Put the Pie in Ya Pie Hole”, basically cornhole with pies. And yes, an unofficial name change, Pie-Hāpe.
And while we’re looking at half-baked opportunities, I think New Zealand cinema is missing one too.
Hollywood gave us Die Hard. Surely it’s time we gave the world Pie Hard. You can have that one for free, Sir Peter – “Yippee-pie-yay”.
Now while I fully support the pie, I do need to raise one concern, because somewhere over the past few years certain bakers have started treating pies less like food and more like experimental performance art, a Eurovision for food.
The classic Kiwi pie knew exactly what it was. Mince and cheese. Steak and cheese. Potato top. Butter chicken if things got adventurous.
Simple combinations built on trust, reliability and gravy.
It’s also worth pointing out here that a bacon and egg pie is absolutely no place for peas, despite certain bakeries continuing to ignore the fairly straightforward rule that if peas were intended to be in the pie, they would be in the title.
But some bakeries now appear determined to push pastry beyond its natural limits.
I recently saw a pie containing pulled pork, mac and cheese, jalapenos, bourbon glaze, and something described as “chipotle maple reduction”, which no longer felt like lunch but more like a brainstorming session by lower middle management trying to justify their positions.
And I say this respectfully, but not everything needs to become a pie.
Because the beauty of the Kiwi pie has never been complexity.
It’s consistency. The flaky pastry falling on to your jersey. The dangerously hot centre. The way a cold morning instantly feels manageable once you’re holding one in your hands.
And that’s why the pie endures alongside other Kiwi icons such as gumboots at the back door, a chilly bin used for cricket wickets, and saying “yeah, nah” when you really mean neither yeah nor nah, just maybe.
So, use your pie hole as a vocal portal for a moment and sing along…
So try-try, a good ol’ Kiwi pie.
Drove my ute to the dairy, but the warmer was dry.
And them good ol’ boys were smashing a V and a pie, singing, “This’ll be the day that I pie.
“This’ll be the day that I pie.”