By his own account, Temuera Morrison did not need any persuading when a friend told him there was a presenter role up for grabs in a show called Earth Oven.
“I said, ‘Oh gee, go around the world eating hāngī?” he recalls. “I’m in!”
That’s what Earth Oven is: Tem travelling to meet indigenous people linked by their traditions of cooking in the earth over hot rocks and learning about their cultures in the process.
The first challenge, he admits, was that he has made his way in the universe as an actor, not a presenter or a foodie.
“The biggest thing was just contending with myself now there’s no character to hide behind,” he says. “It’s Temuera Morrison, unplugged – or un-something! Here he is for real!”
Morrison for real turns out to be a free spirit on camera (also, for that matter, in our interview – the Listener’s transcription software basically gave up on trying to insert full stops) and in the episode on Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, the spirit is in full flight. He randomly adopts a Spanish accent, hams it up wildly and hurls himself into a cenote, one of the natural wells that dot the region’s jungle. He’s generally pretty loose. It all serves to cut through any language barriers.
His host María del Carmen Pech Cano introduces “Mr Tem” to Roque, their jungle guide, who, to his guest’s obvious excitement, steers them away from what might have been a prowling jaguar.
“I’m so happy with him,” declares Roque in Yucatán Maya. “Let’s call him ‘Big Brother’.”
“The common thing is we’ve got to dig a hole,” says Morrison. “We’ve got to feed people at the end of the day, so no matter what language you speak, you’ve got to dig the hole, light the fire, put the food in there – and away you go. And then bring all the family together to help you eat it.”
The hole in this case is a piib, the traditional Mayan version of an earth oven, which differs from a hāngī in a number of ways, including in its use of seasonings (the pork flavoured with wild oregano paste looks sensational) and the oven is capped with banana leaves and trunks, not soil.
“So it’s got a bit of air,” says Morrison. “You’re really looking at an indigenous air fryer!”
It turns out the actual practice of earth oven cooking varies markedly from place to place. In the Jordan desert, where the Earth Oven journey begins, the Bedouins bury a barrel in the sand to form their traditional oven, the zarb.
“I tried digging a bloody hole in the sand and then the sand just goes back in the hole again,” Morrison wails. “Whose idea was that?”
On the Chilean island of Chiloé, which has been occupied for 7000 years, seafood is a mainstay of the Mapuche people’s diet, and, in their version, the curanto, the food goes in for just an hour.
In Hawai’i, where Morrison is shown around by his friend Jason Momoa (“he’s been so generous to me, he puts me in all his movies”), the imu is a different affair.
“We put the pig down at six o’clock at night in a lightning storm and went back the next day and took it out at six o’clock. So 24 hours the thing was in the ground – and man, what pork. It just melted off the bone.”
Also featuring in the Hawaiian episode is Kaina Makua, Momoa and Morrison’s co-star in this year’s Momoa-produced television series Chief of War. Makua played the major role of his ancestor, King Kamehameha. His usual job is taro farming.
After a visit to Australia’s Top End (where they cover their oven with bark), the series concludes at home in Aotearoa, which is also where it began. A “sizzle reel” shot by series cinematographer Mike Jonathan (the friend who tipped off Tem in the first place) when Morrison invited Momoa to Rotorua for a hāngī helped the production company Hi Mama! secure funding for the show. Jonathan had also directed Morrison as Rewi Maniapoto in his 2024 NZ Wars movie Ka Whawhai Tonu.
Each episode of Earth Oven culminates in a family meal and a mihi from Morrison to his hosts. It’s far from the only time a link to te ao Māori emerges. In Yucatán, the Maya, too, have fought for their language, as have the Mapuche in Chile. And before anything happens, he must be welcomed with their equivalent of a pōwhiri.
“You know, you go around the world and things are the same,” says Morrison. “I draw parallels along the way. I go, ‘oh, what’s your word for that?’ They acknowledge their sky father, who we call Rangi. They acknowledge their earth mother, who we call Papatūānuku. I just got blown away and it actually made me a little bit more appreciative of my indigenousness.
“I think us Māori generally, when we travel overseas, compare a lot of things to what we do at home, and it’s warming to note the similarities. The big thing was the family, though. They’re all big families, and there’s food. Just those universal themes.”
It’s not all kai and kōrero. Even away from the digging of holes and the various stunts the producers put him up to, Morrison worked up a sweat.
“It’s hard work – a bit different from doing movies. Everyone works. I was actually up early. I wanted to lead from the front, and I didn’t want them waiting around for me. There are no trailers for me out there and I’m carrying the legs of the camera or carrying my wardrobe and make-up. Actually, I had to do my own make-up!”
After it all, he feels pretty good about Morrison unplugged.
“I think one of my gifts, probably from my Morrison side and Uncle Howard [Morrison], we’re good with people, we kind of can charm our way through something, even if we don’t know anything about it. I think my ability is just to relate to everybody and be a good listener, to see what people have to say. And have fun. A bit of loose fun. But yeah, always try and have fun.”
Earth Oven begins on Sky Open and Neon at 8.30pm on November 5.
