About this recipe

Tītī, commonly known as muttonbird, is a treasured kai (food) of Māori communities, especially those with ties to Rakiura (Stewart Island). Traditionally harvested under customary rights, these seabirds are rich, assertive, and deeply savory, often preserved in their own fat. This recipe honors that heritage while offering a modern, approachable method for home ovens. The wild herb stuffing—leaning on kawakawa’s warming spice, watercress’s peppery lift, and the resinous whisper of wild thyme—balances the bird’s oceanic depth with bright, green energy.

If you don’t have access to ethically sourced tītī, you can still experience the spirit of the dish with a small duck or squab. Their darker meat and higher fat content make them suitable stand-ins, capturing some of the rich, gamey notes that define muttonbird.

Technique notes

• Tempering salinity and richness: Preserved tītī can be very salty and oily. A brief soak in a mild brine followed by a gentle simmer helps moderate salt and render some fat, ensuring a more balanced roast.
• Rack roasting: Elevating the birds on a rack lets excess fat drip away, giving you crisper skin and a cleaner-tasting result.
• Stuffing texture: Stuff loosely. Crowding the cavity can block heat flow and lead to uneven cooking. The herb-dotted crumbs should be moist enough to hold together but not soggy.
• Target temperature: Aim for 74°C (165°F) at the thickest part of the thigh. Resting allows juices to redistribute and the stuffing to settle.

Flavor pairing and sides

• Acidity and greens are your friends. Lemon wedges and fresh watercress or pūhā (sow thistle) cut through richness. New potatoes tossed with parsley and olive oil, or a roast kūmara (sweet potato) salad with horopito-spiked dressing, make natural companions.
• Wine pairing: A vibrant, mineral white (Albariño, Gruner Veltliner) or a supple, low-oak Pinot Noir stands up to the bird’s savory intensity without masking the herbs.

Sourcing and cultural respect

Tītī harvesting is a taonga (treasure) and a living tradition for Rakiura Māori. If you are outside those communities, purchase only from legal, ethical sources—and if you cannot, choose the duck or squab variation. Respect for the land, sea, and customary practices isn’t just cultural context; it’s the heart of the dish.

Wild herb choices (and safe substitutes)

• Kawakawa: Peppery, warming, slightly citrusy. Substitute with a mix of bay leaf and mint if unavailable.
• Watercress: Fresh bite and a hint of mustard. Substitute baby arugula or parsley.
• Wild thyme: Resinous, floral. Cultivated thyme works perfectly.
• Horopito: Native pepper with eucalyptus notes. A pinch of chili flakes and black pepper approximates its warmth. Always forage responsibly and confidently identify plants; when in doubt, buy cultivated herbs.

Tips for success

• Dry thoroughly after simmering to help the skin crisp and to prevent steaming in the oven.
• Baste midway with rendered fat for gloss and extra flavor, but don’t drown the skin—light coats promote crispness.
• If the skin is browning too fast, tent with foil. If it’s not browning enough, finish with a brief high-heat blast.
• Pan sauce magic: The tray fond is concentrated gold. A quick deglaze with stock and a squeeze of lemon produces a bright, savory finish.

Leftovers and variations

• Shred leftover meat into a wild herb hash with potatoes and onions, or fold into a watercress and lemon barley salad.
• For a smoky twist, add a pinch of manuka-smoked salt to the stuffing and pan sauce.
• Duck or squab version: Skip the parboil, roast as directed, and check temperature a bit earlier; these birds often cook slightly faster.

Why it’s special

This roast brings together coastline and bush: the deep, briny character of a seabird with aromatics that speak of the forest floor and riverbanks. It’s a dish of contrasts—rich yet bright, traditional yet adaptable—designed for sharing. Serve it at the center of the table and let the conversation flow around stories of place, season, and whānau. In doing so, you’ll taste more than a recipe; you’ll taste a landscape and the people who care for it.