A new year is upon us. And like so many before it, we once more stand upon the precipice of a fresh 365 where things are ALREADY dreadful, globally-wise. I myself am no stranger to the minor inconveniences that can feel like they’re setting the tone for the year ahead against your will: wisdom teeth (that I thought had been removed! At great expense!!) dancing a merry ceilidh directly into my nerves, a will-they-won’t-they of trying to find the singular nice affordable apartment to rent in this city with my girlfriend only to have previously accepted offers retracted, like riding a rollercoaster directly into a brick wall. One only has to glance at the internet briefly to put all this into stark perspective and I was still blessed with a charming and delightful Christmas and an antic-filled, if woefully brief, summer break. While I feel neither rested nor organised, I nonetheless have spatula-d myself together for 2026 to bring you this recipe for pea, mint and feta dip. Much like the summer break, it’s quick.

Despite the persistent and erratic rain this summer, it has still been hot, and I imagine many of us are either being hit by that end-of-year exhaustion or treading water through the usual, unending exhaustion, which necessitates food that asks little of you and generates little heat (especially if, like me, you’re in a diminutive studio apartment with no air-con and the oven three metres from your bed). This does require some blending equipment—I favour a stick blender for extra smoothness, however a food processor and a bit more processing time should work fine—but it uses only a few minutes of your time and provides, depending on appetite, several days of temple-cooling snacking material or a solid people-gathering offering. Either way, with various crackers and sliced vegetables for dunking.

With so few ingredients, it’s imperative that they’re all in close harmony together. To that end, if we’re to tease out this metaphor, I’d describe this as the Boyz II Men of dips.

How? Peas and mint: old friends, their green-on-green freshness made for each other. Although cream cheese isn’t the classiest element, its bold, fat tanginess amplifies the snowy, luxurious feta while hydrating its salty edges. Alongside basil, mint is one of the quintessential summer herbs—icily cooling, enlivening, head-clearing—but the peas bring their own coy verdant sweetness and affordable exuberance.

I am especially wedded to those flattened pretzel crackers which are, through the magic of surface area, so much more delicious than regular pretzels, but can also recommend a sturdy cucumber baton for dragging through the dip’s pale eau de nil surface; should you have any leftover it could probably make a jaunty sauce for a pasta salad (wouldn’t know, don’t like pasta salad very much); and if you go in for making loaded bowl-type meals a dollop of this, perhaps thinned out with some yoghurt, would be a good anointing sauce.

2025 started with a similar recipe so if you’re in the mood for more—or an abundant selection—you could quickly nip back in time to try my Basil Olive Dip; I also recommend this M’tabbal Qarae; Avocado, Labaneh and Preserved Lemon Spread; and Feta with Chilli Oil Pine Nuts.

Pea, mint and feta dip

Freshly minty and creamy with a salty hit of feta, and very easy to make for summer-long snacking. As always, before going shopping for these or any ingredients, I recommend checking out the Boycott Aotearoa zines so you know which brands to avoid. Recipe by myself.

• 100g frozen peas
• 150g full fat cream cheese
• 150g feta
• Juice of half a lemon
• 15g fresh mint leaves (a few small stalks are fine, too) plus a few more sprigs for garnish

1: Defrost your peas. Tip the 100g frozen peas into a sieve and run cold water over them until they’re no longer frozen—which doesn’t take long—alternatively, you can put them into a small bowl, cover with boiling water and then strain, or if you’ve thought far enough ahead, simply let them defrost in their own good time.

2: Next, use a stick blender and a high-sided mixing bowl to thoroughly and whippingly combine the 150g cream cheese, 150g feta, and a good squeeze of lemon juice. If you don’t have a stick blender then a food processor will suffice, but it won’t make quite so smooth a puree of the peas and mint later.

3: Tip in the now-defrosted peas and the 15g of mint and blitz till you have a pale green emulsion with as smooth a texture as you can muster with your given machinery. Taste to see if it needs another squeeze of lemon; it is unlikely to need salt given the feta but trust your instincts.

Makes a bulging bowlful of about 300ml; keep covered in the refrigerator until you want to use it.

Notes:

• You can pad this out a bit with another 50g-75g defrosted peas, any more than that and you might want to add some more cream cheese.
• I’ve tried this with thick greek yoghurt instead of cream cheese and it was too floppy, although it did eventually firm up somewhat in the fridge; if it’s all you’ve got and you’re desperate, you could give it a try. Similarly, I imagine good sour cream would hold its own here.

what I’ve been listening to lately:

Calling On by Weta, this song still has all the impact of a freight train that’s sprouted wings; that tremolo rippling through it, the howling build of the title refrain bending the words each time, the unleashing of energy subsiding to, once more, that tremolo shuddering over you like a cool wave. It’s a masterpiece. I’m extremely glad I got to see them live but once in 2008, I only wish it could happen again for any of us.

Leave Them All Behind by Ride, now look, I heard Savage Garden’s I Want You first and a little aural hat-tip at the start of the latter diminishes neither song. The tremolo in this is delicious, raucously shoved about as it is in the miles-long intro before it’s allowed to come up for air again, I can’t even begin to tell you how good it was seeing this song live in 2024.

You Oughta Know by Alanis Morrisette, now look, since we’re talking, there’s this early live performance in Brazil where the juddering tremolo is amplified and seems to almost pool around you, even as that chugging bass line comes in like an elephant jumping in a puddle. This song changed me and I’m glad I got to see her live in 1996, if only she’d come back.

PS: Feeling hopeless is a luxury that serves no one but those perpetrating the hopelessness, and the people of Palestine need us more than ever. Among others, you can donate to:

• ReliefAid’s Gaza Appeal, who are connected with teams on the ground in Gaza.
• Convoys of Good, another registered NZ charity distributing aid.
• Welcome Back Slow Fashion who has relentlessly fundraised for mutual aid by selling off gaspingly beautiful and rare vintage clothing pieces one by one.
• As I’ve already mentioned, you can also demonstrate your control and power through the absence of your dollars. Boycott Zine Aotearoa has helpfully put together two comprehensive free zines so you can quickly see who to studiously avoid when buying food, drinks, household items and beauty products.
• You can also check out the Pro-Palestine Business Aotearoa account by the same people for a very solid list of places to actively focus your consumer attention on.
• Finally, if you’re feeling generally disgruntled—as well you might—Emily Writes has a brilliantly useful and digestible submission guide to raise your voice against the current crop of atrocious governmental decisions in this endless game of uselessness whack-a-mole.