From Flat White to Sauvignon Blanc: How New Zealand Taught Me to Taste the World

It’s 2025, and I’m sitting in my living room in France— my dream country. A place I have pinned down on my map as my future home since I was eight. But, long before France, there was New Zealand about 13 years ago— the day I left home when I was seventeen. That’s where everything began: my work, my palate, and my sense of belonging in the world.

I arrived in July 2012. Wellington Airport was smaller than I’d imagined, and somehow they managed to lose my baggage — a brilliant start for a girl who relied entirely on a 23-kilogram suitcase, 7,174 kilometres away from home. The voice of my mom, chanting every single day before the day of departure, echoed in my head: “Always bring emergency clothes and underwear in your cabin bag.” That was probably the day I started to accept that mom is (almost) always right.

It was winter. For someone from a tropical country where “season” means either dry or wet, Wellington’s cold cuts straight to the bone. But nothing a thick, hot cup of chocolate from Scopa at Cuba Street couldn’t heal. That day, I savored a pudding-like hot chocolate that seemed to melt away the homesickness. I knew I was going to have a fantastic time in New Zealand.

Learning to Taste the World

New Zealand deserves to be my first story. It shaped my young adulthood and introduced me to the beauty of local produce, coffee culture, wines, and the art of travel — all of which define my life today. Of course, it helped that I spent three years studying Culinary Arts and Business at Le Cordon Bleu Wellington, then worked as a chef and pastry chef in cafés and restaurants across the city.

I didn’t even like coffee before I arrived. Maybe it was student life, or maybe Wellington simply brewed better coffee than anywhere else. At Memphis Belle on Dixon Street (now sadly closed), I discovered the flat white — my daily bread and blood. Pro tip: dip one pink marshmallow into it. If you haven’t, you’re missing out.

It wasn’t “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” anymore — it was two kiwifruits a day, religiously. For me, it has to be the gold one. Trust me, once you go gold, you never go back.

Fridays meant fish and chips by the waterfront or Mount Victoria, paired with an icy bottle of L&P (a New Zealand lemon soft drink). At Logan Brown Restaurant, where I worked in the kitchen, the whitebait fritters were a house favorite. And then came feijoa — that fragrant, almost tropical fruit I can still taste twelve years later. We once served warm gingerbread cake with feijoa ice cream and feijoa Turkish delight. One of the best desserts I have ever tasted— its memory still lingers on my palate.

Later, I visited a Māori village where we were served hāngī (traditional Māori food slow-cooked underground with hot stones). The smoky aroma, the earthy sweetness of root vegetables, and the tenderness of the meat shared on the table between strangers. The highlight was the leg of lamb served with mint sauce. Hāngī wasn’t just a meal— it was a story, a ritual of connection.

The First Sip that Changed Everything

Last, but not least: the cheese and the wine. It feels almost inevitable to mention them here, because it was through those moments of tasting that my path began to shift toward something I could not yet name. I will save the longer story of how I ended up in France for another time, but I will always remember the first sip of Sauvignon Blanc I ever had in New Zealand — a bright, bracing moment that felt like a key turning. In that glass, I recognised a new curiosity, and I knew wine education would be my next step.

Finding Myself in a New Country

Those three years in New Zealand were full of beginnings — of getting lost, finding myself, and learning how to build a home wherever I went. I learned to be yelled at in a kitchen and still keep my hands moving faster than my thoughts. To fall in love, to lose it, and to start again. To make each new apartment feel like home with nothing more than a favorite flower-printed mug.

New Zealand will always be the place where my journey of self-discovery truly began. From a cup of flat white to a first sip of Sauvignon Blanc, it taught me that every taste can be a new beginning.