Welcome to my new column, Pretty Interesting! Capsule has given me the opportunity to write about some truly epic humans I have met who march to the beat of their own drum and who have genuinely inspired me recently.
I feel oddly proud that I have mended my algorithm enough to no longer be forcefed a constant stream of negative news and collective trauma when I scroll. There is a privilege in protecting your mental health this way, even if it means remaining a little ignorant to certain things. And yet, if I am honest, a lot of feel good stories can lack the punch to really hold my attention. There is a strange duality in wanting something juicy and compelling without feeling like you are reading a glossy puff piece.
This column is my attempt to sit right in that tension – human, honest and a little sharp around the edges.
You can read the first column – a chat with Kiwi writer/director Taylor Nixon here. This week though, I’m talking to restauranter, Michael Dearth.
I first met Michael Dearth the way most people do: at Baduzzi in Auckland’s CBD.
He was moving through the restaurant with this unmistakable energy – the kind that makes you look up from your menu. Michael has this big American accent that feels slightly out of place yet completely at home all at once, and I was immediately curious. Who is this guy? Why does he feel like a burst of sunshine in human form?!
Michael has an energy that sets him apart. He oozes enthusiasm, curiosity and excitement. It’s a child-like wonder but wrapped up in a grown man, who happens to run some of the most respected restaurants in the country.
As someone who is almost 18-months sober myself, I was especially curious about the many interesting mocktails on the menu. And that is when I found out that Michael is not just a sommelier. He is a sober sommelier.
And that made me lean in even closer.
In New Zealand, choosing not to drink often comes with the apparent need for a social explanation. It is not the default. It can feel like a declaration. And yet, some of the most interesting, self aware and switched on people I know are sober. It feels like a quiet movement that is picking up momentum.
So I had questions. And lucky for me, Michael was more than happy to sit down and chat so I could dive a little deeper.
Now, picture this. Michael’s brain looks like a field of golden wheat, according to him!
“Just kind of like an open pasture of golden wheat,” he tells me. “A blue sky of opportunity.”
It is poetic. Slightly unexpected. Entirely Michael Dearth.
The US born MasterChef NZ judge has spent the last 30 years building his life in Aotearoa after falling in love with the country at 22. What drew him here was a sense of peace. A place to stand. A place to belong. And so he stayed.
With his amazing wife Annette, he co-founded two of the most respected restaurants in the country (and with one more on the way!). The Grove, a fine dining institution that held three hats and was recently named number nine on Tripadvisor’s list of the Top Ten Fine Dining Restaurants in the World. And Baduzzi, the warmly buzzing North Wharf restaurant that feels like stepping into his Italian American heart.
The Grove helped set the standard for excellence in New Zealand. Baduzzi is where his soul really lives: Family recipes, meatballs that matter. Food that feels like a hug.
“I love food and people,” he says. “I just love feeding others. And not just with food.”
Growing up in Connecticut, food was never just about sustenance, it was connection. Long, loud dinners. Stories told across the table. Memories anchored to flavour.
“Most people remember vacations,” he laughs. “We remember meals. Like, remember in ’78 when Mom made that rib of beef with the spinach and ricotta ravioli?”
That ravioli came every Thanksgiving before the turkey even hit the table. Spinach, ricotta, a little tomato marinara. “That was her dish,” he says. “The one we all went back for seconds.”
Those early food memories planted a seed.
But Michael isn’t a chef in the traditional sense – he is a restaurateur in the truest form. A host. A teacher. A leader. A fixer. A man who will scrub the toilets if needed.
“Annette does payroll and sick days,” he says. “I make sure your glass is full and your plate is right.”
He wears every hat. Hustler. Coach. Therapist. “Some of the kids that work for me are forty. Some are nineteen. I have dealt with pregnancies, drinking problems, burnout. I once had to Google how to talk to someone about halitosis.”
And then there is his own decision to stop drinking.
Seven years ago, he chose sobriety. Not because of a dramatic rock bottom moment. Simply because alcohol was slowing him down.
“I love mornings. I love nights. I love exercise. I love my life,” he says. “But I realised I cannot do all the things I love if I am drinking. There is no free lunch. Eventually, you pay.”
Those first events were awkward. Champagne trays. Questions. Side glances. What is wrong?
“But once you get through the firsts, the birthdays, the concerts, the celebrations, it becomes easy,” he says. “Now it just feels right.”
If anything, his spark burns brighter and I totally relate!
When The Grove closed after 20 years, it was not a failure. It was a celebration. Guests flew in from overseas for one last dinner. They closed with their heads held high. Staff paid. Debts settled. A chapter completed with care.
Fine dining still matters to him.
“It makes a good city great,” he says. “It teaches young chefs the art of ingredients. How to chop chives properly. How to make a veal stock.”
But it is not sustainable for everyone. “We were spreading the butter too thin for too long.”
Today, his focus is firmly on Baduzzi. Wood fire. Meatballs. Heart.
“If you come in, order the meatballs,” he grins. “We are known for them. But if you are vegetarian, I have this incredible piadina. Pizza dough grilled on the fire, roasted aubergine, stracciatella. And the steak. I think it is the best in town.”
Cooking over wood speaks to something ancient, he says. When you smell fire, it hits something primal. It is performance. It is psychology. It is nourishment.
He still says yes to almost everything that sparks joy. Catering one hundred and fifty people. A pop up in Hong Kong. A mobile meatball truck. Why not?
“I love saying yes.”
He is also in the very early stages of a new restaurant concept, a venture that has already taken him back to Italy in search of inspiration and flavour, and while it is equal parts thrilling and nerve wracking, he admits, “When you have had success behind you, the bar is already incredibly high for my own expectations of myself and my capabilities.”
He loves New Zealand too. The creative canvas of its hospitality scene. The opportunity to make a mark if you are willing to hustle and love what you do.
He lights up when he talks about service. About the sound of laughter bouncing across a dining room. One of his favourite memories from The Grove was walking the floor on a full night and hearing three separate tables erupt in laughter at the same time.
“We created that,” he says, eyes shining. “That space. That moment. That joy.”
Not the awards. Not the accolades. Not the rankings.
Just people. Food. And the magic in between. I wish I had eaten there!
He may no longer drink. But make no mistake, Michael is like a magnet and brings the energy and enthusiasm and fun where ever he goes.
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