The Culinary Capital is Losing its Flavor

Author: CDP (he/him)

For as long as I can remember, Wellington has been heralded as New Zealand’s culinary capital.The city offers everything a diner could desire—from fine dining at multi-hatted institutions like Logan Brown to more casual eats at beloved spots like 1154 and Fidel’s. Within a 15-minute walk, you can move from the experimental  to the shit pub fare. 

I never had intended to work in hospitality. Yet here I am, cooking at one of Wellington’s more prominent establishments. When I started, I had no culinary knowledge or industry connections. Still, three looming spectres were always present: Vias’s Wellington On a Plate (WOaP), the slow death of hospo, and the annual migration of  our most talented servers, chefs, bartenders, and adjacent professionals. We all know where they’re going. 

Every year, WOaP arrives like clockwork—an event that hospitality workers either dread or adore. It's It's infamous for its innovative burger creations and dazzling events, drawing enthusiasm from every corner of the city, fromBluebridge (Yes, the ferry company) to Boulcott St Bistro. For a brief period the entire hospo community throws itself into creating the best possible experience or the most headline-worthy burger. It’s a beautiful expression of culinary crativity—but it’s also exhausting. 

There’s an unspoken pressure to outdo last year’s efforts, to push the boat out further and further.  Burgers become increasingly elaborate, often veering into the absurd. I understand the appeal—burgers are endlessly modifible—but I struggle with the constraint. Why must restaurants reinvent the wheel every year? Why are we locked into this format? 

Letting chefs express themselves  is beautiful, but at what point do we conclude that maybe we need to move on from burgers made with Kiwi Onion dip and Black Milk Buns and have a stab at another dish, or entirely remove this constraint? Conceptually, these creations are cool. But when a burger hits nearly $30, you have to ask: are we cooking for the customer, or for our own image? 

What about the patisseries too small to host events? Or chefs like me, whose strengths lie outside the burger realm? I spoke with a colleague about what it would take for our workplace to participate, and we both agreed: “The mise [short for mise en place or prep] would be bullshit.” And quite frankly, I don’t really want to make more brioche than I already have to. 

The events side of WOaP is genuinely interesting—take-overs, lectures, and immersive experiences, many of which are free. I encourage everyone to attend. But realistically, WOaP is, to some extent, an expression of vanity. That’s okay. Still, as a community, shouldn’t we ensure that we’re not just attracting out-of-towners to multi-hundred-dollar events, but also engaging with the wider Wellington public? 

I’ve only ever worked in one restaurant, but I’ve worked with a wide range of people.  Every year, I watch  incredibly talented young professionals leave—headed for Melbourne, Hong Kong, London. I’m thrilled for them. Melbourne, for instance, is a culinary powerhouse, and I am always filled with joy seeing my former colleagues and friends over there working at beautiful locations, creating amazing food. But this drain of talent is slowly sucking the life out of our community. 

Yes, new professionals arrive. Yes, great venues still exist. But each year, I say goodbye to friends I may never see again. It’s draining. If you work in hospo, you know the depth of this community—you  also probably know someone who’s left Wellington for better opportunities abroad. 

I don’t have the answers. This isn’t something I see as my permanent career, and I’m not qualified to prescribe solutions. But I can see what’s happening:  places are closing, and the ones opening are all trying to be the next Logan Brown, High Water, or Koji. In my view, Wellington is losing what made it special—its innovation and diversity. 

I’ve spoken with my Head Chef on this. We agree: we need something different. From the rich seafood and stews of Portuguese cuisine to the herbaceous flavors of Laotian cooking, there’s so much potential. We still have some gems—Ascot for drinks, Satay Kingdom for dinner. Fleeting breaths of what Wellington's culinary culture used to be. 

But I'd be lying if I said I hadn’t stood at my section, wondering: Did we fall off? Got you in your room rippin’ every chronic poster on your wall off? We’re still pushing the boat out—just in the wrong direction.