The Kitchen
A Small Premises with Big Flavours: Quiches, Cakes and Muffins Galore
After our time at Redvale, the next venture was something quite different: food manufacturing. We called it simply The Kitchen. At first glance, it was a modest operation, but it was packed with energy, potential, and a surprising variety of products. We produced quiches, cheesecakes, desserts, cakes, sponges, and even chicken liver pâté. Our star creation turned out to be bran muffins, which were snapped up by hospitals around Auckland.
Our customers were mainly delis, pubs, and restaurants in the city. The workdays began early, preparing and baking through the morning, and by the afternoon I was out on the road, delivering orders across town. It started with just Sheila and me. But as the business grew, we soon brought on a part-time kitchen hand and a part-time driver to keep things moving.
The premises themselves had character. The Kitchen was set up in what had once been an old butcher’s shop. The place came fully equipped with walk-in freezers and heavy refrigeration, perfect for food production.The business had been founded only a couple of years earlier by a young man fresh out of university. He had started it partly to fund his degree and had built it up with two others. I admired how efficient he was. The recipes were tried and tested, the costing carefully worked out, and everything ran like clockwork. But by the time we arrived, he was ready to focus on his career, and the opportunity to take over was ours.It was clear to me from the start that The Kitchen had potential for much more. Expansion was not just possible—it was waiting for us.
The Glenfield Home
Redwoods, Watercress, and a Fresh Start Selling Redvale meant we had to find another home, and as it turned out, the search didn’t take long at all. Almost as if it had been waiting for us, we found a lovely three-bedroom house in Glenfield, not too far away.
It sat quietly on its third of an acre, tucked back from the road. The lounge was timber-lined and filled with light from the picture windows, perched slightly higher than the rest of the house. From there, the space stepped down into a large dining room that opened onto an outdoor deck. That deck curved itself around two of the tallest sequoias I had ever seen in New Zealand—magnificent redwood trees that gave the whole property a sense of permanence and calm.
“Look at those trees!” one of the children exclaimed, craning their necks as if they might touch the tops. “We could build the best treehouse in there!”
Behind the house, a fresh-water stream ran gently through the garden, its banks full of watercress that seemed to grow endlessly along its length. The children wasted no time splashing along its edge, returning proudly with dripping handfuls of watercress. “We can eat this? From the garden?” they asked, their voices half in disbelief, half in excitement.
The property was practical too. A considerable double garage stood to one side, with a fully concreted driveway and plenty of parking. Inside, the three bedrooms were all on the same level, while a finished and decorated basement rumpus room offered a huge extra space downstairs—perfect for the children to claim as their hideaway.
The kitchen, however, felt small—especially after the roomy farmhouse kitchen we had left behind at Redvale. Sheila took one look around and sighed. “After that big country kitchen, this feels like a cupboard,” she said, though with a wry smile. Over time, though, we made it our own. We upgraded the layout and installed a garden window, much like a bay window, which brought in more light and looked out over the greenery.
At the time, Genair ovens were all the rage, and Sheila laughed with satisfaction when ours was finally fitted. “Now we’re catching up with the times,” she said, already planning what she’d bake first.
It wasn’t the farm, but it was a home full of charm, character, and the promise of new memories.
Our customers were mainly delis, pubs, and restaurants in the city. The workdays began early, preparing and baking through the morning, and by the afternoon I was out on the road, delivering orders across town. It started with just Sheila and me. But as the business grew, we soon brought on a part-time kitchen hand and a part-time driver to keep things moving.
The premises themselves had character. The Kitchen was set up in what had once been an old butcher’s shop. The place came fully equipped with walk-in freezers and heavy refrigeration, perfect for food production.The business had been founded only a couple of years earlier by a young man fresh out of university. He had started it partly to fund his degree and had built it up with two others. I admired how efficient he was. The recipes were tried and tested, the costing carefully worked out, and everything ran like clockwork. But by the time we arrived, he was ready to focus on his career, and the opportunity to take over was ours.It was clear to me from the start that The Kitchen had potential for much more. Expansion was not just possible—it was waiting for us.
The Glenfield Home
Redwoods, Watercress, and a Fresh Start Selling Redvale meant we had to find another home, and as it turned out, the search didn’t take long at all. Almost as if it had been waiting for us, we found a lovely three-bedroom house in Glenfield, not too far away.
It sat quietly on its third of an acre, tucked back from the road. The lounge was timber-lined and filled with light from the picture windows, perched slightly higher than the rest of the house. From there, the space stepped down into a large dining room that opened onto an outdoor deck. That deck curved itself around two of the tallest sequoias I had ever seen in New Zealand—magnificent redwood trees that gave the whole property a sense of permanence and calm.
“Look at those trees!” one of the children exclaimed, craning their necks as if they might touch the tops. “We could build the best treehouse in there!”
Behind the house, a fresh-water stream ran gently through the garden, its banks full of watercress that seemed to grow endlessly along its length. The children wasted no time splashing along its edge, returning proudly with dripping handfuls of watercress. “We can eat this? From the garden?” they asked, their voices half in disbelief, half in excitement.
The property was practical too. A considerable double garage stood to one side, with a fully concreted driveway and plenty of parking. Inside, the three bedrooms were all on the same level, while a finished and decorated basement rumpus room offered a huge extra space downstairs—perfect for the children to claim as their hideaway.
The kitchen, however, felt small—especially after the roomy farmhouse kitchen we had left behind at Redvale. Sheila took one look around and sighed. “After that big country kitchen, this feels like a cupboard,” she said, though with a wry smile. Over time, though, we made it our own. We upgraded the layout and installed a garden window, much like a bay window, which brought in more light and looked out over the greenery.
At the time, Genair ovens were all the rage, and Sheila laughed with satisfaction when ours was finally fitted. “Now we’re catching up with the times,” she said, already planning what she’d bake first.
It wasn’t the farm, but it was a home full of charm, character, and the promise of new memories.