New places to eat and drink in Queenstown, from delectable baked goods to fine dining
Stopping in for lunch, I ate the fennel risotto with feta, saffron and sunflower seeds, the braised pulled merino lamb shoulder with sundried tomato glaze and pickled onion and the potato gratin – all delicious and designed for sharing, but pace yourself as the plates are generously sized. There are also more than 40 wines to choose from on the wine list, mostly Central Otago drops, so cosy up with an indoor table on a cold evening and admire the wine selection, or book in for lunch and enjoy crisp autumn sun and views over the marina.
Sunfire
Flame Bar & Grill in the Steamer Wharf building is a Queenstown institution; now the same team has opened the doors on Sunfire downstairs. Flame's Lou McDowell and Jonathan Bisley bought bistro Ivy & Lola's, which previously occupied the space, in 2023 and rebuilt it, opening Sunfire last June. It's a great spot to people-watch while you dine, or gaze out at Lake Wakatipu and the Remarkables.
First up are the mushroom parfait and burrata, both served with sourdough. Our server also talks us into ordering the charred cabbage with tahini, walnuts and raisins – surprisingly delicious. The main titled simply 'Duck' is the most popular dish, and as I quickly find out, for good reason – the braised duck leg and roasted breast are tender and flavoursome, paired perfectly with smoked kūmara, mandarin gel, broccolini and jus.
For me, the carrot cake dessert is a standout – it's served alongside house-made carrot cake-flavoured ice cream, lemon curd and delicate flower sprinkles a la Meghan, Duchess of Sussex.
Toast & Oak
This European-style wine bar and restaurant opened in June last year, but chances are you've walked past it while browsing the shops on the central Shotover St. Next time, do yourself a favour and head up the black and white chequered stairs to find a sleek dining space, a seasonal menu and nearly 300 wines to choose from.
The menu lists key flavours rather than the elements of each dish, cutting through the waffle and heightening the anticipation for each course. The entrees of date and pancetta – think the best flavours on a charcuterie board, deep-fried – beef tartare and tomato stracciatella toasts are paired perfectly with a Rippon riesling, while a Wrekin pinot noir accompanies the kingfish and eye fillet mains.
For me, the highlight is the strawberry and kawakawa dessert, served alongside a plate of tiny meringues made with aquafaba and full of unexpected flavour combinations. However, Toast & Oak's menu changes with the seasons, so expect to enjoy new but equally delicious options.
Bar hopping: The Irishman, Tommy's
Queenstown's newest bar, which opened in the Steamer Wharf building in December, is a nod to the traditional Irish pub. The Irishman's dark timber, stained glass and gilt furnishings make for a cosy interior in which to enjoy Irish beers and ciders – naturally – and hearty pub food, from soda bread to beer and Guinness pies.
Or if cocktails are your drink of choice, head to Tommy's Margarita Bar in Queenstown Mall, which opened in May last year. Sip on classic coconut or spicy margaritas or one of their signature drinks, from a limoncello cherry concoction to a smoky piña colada. They also serve up a tapas-style menu, with live DJs on Friday and Saturday nights.
The Bakehouse at Ayrburn
This one isn't in Queenstown, but it's sure to be a non-negotiable stop on your next visit to the Otago region. The Bakehouse is the newest hospitality offering at the lavish Ayrburn precinct in Arrowtown. Opened last December, it offers all-day dining, from morning coffee, brunch and baked goods galore through to lunch, happy hour and dinner.
A mix of seating options caters for all types of diners; whether you prefer to cosy up inside by the fire or sit outside overlooking the stream and lush gardens.
If you're planning a visit to Ayrburn, start your day at The Bakehouse with breakfast or pastries – I recommend the pistachio cruffin (a cross between a croissant and a muffin, of course) – before wandering the rest of the estate, then follow it up with ice cream from The Dairy, an afternoon wine tasting at The Manure Room and dinner at The Woolshed.
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Otago Daily Times
16 hours ago
- Otago Daily Times
About both journey, destination
While Japan welcomed an incredible 37 million international visitors last year and is targeting 60 million per year by the end of the decade, there are still parts of the country that host few foreign tourists and don't seem to have changed much in the past few decades, Queenstown travel writer Craig McLachlan finds. Two-thirds of international visitor nights are spent in Tokyo, Kyoto and Hiroshima and few stray far from the beaten path. I've been writing Japan guidebooks for Lonely Planet since 1998 and it's part of my job to tell visitors how to get off that beaten path and inform them about parts of Japan that they've never heard of — and I can't think of a more enjoyable job. Island-hopping My wife Yuriko and I are in Japan at present, island-hopping from Kagoshima, at the southern end of Kyushu, Japan's third-largest island, to Naha, the main city in Okinawa. Didn't know you could go island-hopping in Japan? Well, this is one of the world's great boat journeys. Nothing luxurious at all; these are inter-island ferries that have delivering freight, the lifeblood of the islands, as their primary purpose. In return, they cart agricultural products from the islands to market. Moving islanders to and from the various islands to Kagoshima and Naha comes next, with carting tourists, especially non-Japanese-speaking ones, as an afterthought. If you want to take this on, be aware that island-hopping through the Amami Islands is like an old-style backpacking adventure. It's about both the journey and the destination, an extremely satisfying trip with experiences to be had along the way that you'll never forget. But it's a trip that's going to require a bit of effort — not many English-speakers, English-language menus or much in the way of Western-style food out this way — but the locals are friendly, you'll face a lot of smiles and most will try to help you make your visit work out for everyone. The journey It's a 25-hour journey from Kagoshima to Naha, with stops at four islands along the way — Amami Ōshima, Tokunoshima, Okinoerabujima and Yoron-tō. Each day, there's one ferry heading south — Kagoshima to Naha — and one ferry heading north — Naha to Kagoshima. Outside of the Japanese holiday seasons — Golden Week (late April to early May) and summer holidays (July 20 to the end of August) — you can pretty much turn up an hour before a sailing and get the cheapest ticket to ride to the next island. You'll want to pre-book a spot in Japanese holiday periods. If you want to go the whole hog, a 14-day norihōdai (ride as much as you like!) pass costs ¥30,000 yen (about $NZ344) and you could ride the ferry from Kagoshima to Naha and back (or vice versa) over two weeks. One thing to keep in the back of your mind — June to October is typhoon season in Japan and typhoons tend to play havoc with ferry schedules. Think of it as part of the adventure! On this trip, Yuriko and I opted to take the ferry from Kagoshima and spend two nights each on Tokunoshima, Okinoerabujima and Yoron-tō, then a few nights in Naha, before flying back to Osaka. It's just as easy to fly to Naha from any number of mainland cities, then ride the ferry north to Kagoshima. Leaving Kagoshima We were surprised at the number of schoolkids in uniform milling around at Kagoshima port. It was spring holidays in Japan. The new school year starts in early April each year and school was out. If all those kids were getting on the ferry it would be a very crowded ship, indeed. Once we boarded the ferry and looked back, however, all became clear. The crowd of students had come to farewell a beloved teacher who was being transferred to one of the Amami Islands for a year or two. About 200 waving students lined the railings at the port, with unfurled banners wishing the teacher good luck. Equally, when we arrived on Tokunoshima, a group of students and parents was there to greet and welcome their new teacher with much excitement to the island. Both the Kagoshima departure and Tokunoshima arrival were moving sights, testament to the value of a good teacher. Tokunoshima The first island we hopped off the ferry at, Tokunoshima, proudly claims a couple of remarkable records. This tiny dot on the ocean, with a population of around 22,000, has had not one, but two Guinness World Record-holders for the world's oldest person. Shigechiyo Izumi got the big prize in 1979, then lived another seven years before dying aged 120 years and 237 days. Kamata Hongo became the world's oldest person in 1999 and lived to 116 years and 45 days. Dubbed "the island of longevity", Tokunoshima also hit amazing highs at the other end of the scale, recording Japan's highest total fertility rate of 2.25 (the number of children a woman has in her lifetime), in figures released last year. That's an interesting number, considering that Aotearoa's total fertility rate is 1.66 births per woman and Japan, as a whole, is at 1.26 (both 2022). Unfortunately, despite this encouraging figure, the island's population is still declining, with young people leaving Tokunoshima for work and opportunities on the mainland. We loved our time on Tokunoshima, staying in Kametsu, the largest town on the island, by the port of Kametoku. The only way to really see what the island has to offer is with a set of wheels and rental cars are available in the port. There is a great passion on the island for tōgyū, a kind of bovine sumō, that has a 400-year history on Tokunoshima. The best English translation of tōgyū is bullfighting, but this is nothing like the Spanish version that pits man against bull. In tōgyū, it's bull against bull, the two locking horns and trying to force each other backwards. The bout is decided when one bull tires, retreats and runs away. The bulls are ranked, much like in sumō, given inspiring "fighting names" and are much loved and cared for by their owners. There are three big tournaments on Tokunoshima each year, and while there is prize money, we were told that it is minimal when compared with the costs of keeping and training a bull. It's all about pride on the island. Owners tend and train their bulls like pets and after 5pm each day, once owners have finished work, huge 800kg-1000kg bulls can be seen being led down roads and along beaches as part of their training. We were taken to meet Kokuhō, whose proud owner spends from 5pm-8pm daily with him — feeding, exercising and even massaging his giant pet. When I asked more about tōgyū at the Tourist Information Office, the manager swiftly brought out his smartphone to show us photos of his two bulls. Okinoerabujima Next island down the line, Okinoerabujima is a raised coral atoll, about 20km long, with a population of 14,000 people. Its main industry is agriculture, and it was potato and sugar cane harvesting season when we turned up. There aren't enough hands available during harvesting season and a number of young Japanese show up from around the country to help. A young guy running a bar in Wadomari, the main port, told us he originally came from Osaka five years ago to help with the potato harvest and never left. You'll also want to rent some wheels on Okinoerabujima to see the sights. Some 200 limestone caves are dotted around the island, the easiest to visit being Shōryūdō, with 600m of the 3.5km-long cave system open to visitors. It takes about 30 minutes to walk through these truly remarkable caverns. The island is also renowned for the Erabu lily. The large, white trumpet-shaped lilies bloom in April and May and were just coming into bloom when we were there. Bulbs are cultivated and sent to the Japanese mainland as a major earner for the island. They have also been exported overseas, due to being introduced to Europe through World Expos from 1870 onwards, to become known as "Easter lilies", their white petals being a symbol of purity for Christian events around the globe. Yoron-tō My favourite island, though, was the speck that is Yoron-tō, home to 6000 people. This raised coral island, surrounded by reef, is home to some 60 magnificent beaches, with Yurigahama, a sandy islet that appears at low tide, being Yoron-tō's renowned highlight. Only 23km in circumference, this is an island to ride around on a bike. Rentals are readily available. Kiwis will be surprised to find the island's museum and information building is called the Southern Cross Centre. Did you know that the Southern Cross could be seen in the northern hemisphere? At 27° 22' north of the equator, Yoron-tō is the most northerly point in Japan from which you can view the Southern Cross, though the guy in the museum admitted it was hard to spot, more or less right on the horizon. I was overjoyed to hear something that has largely disappeared from most parts of regional Japan. At noon, loudspeakers around the island cranked up with tropical Yoron island music, then announced to everyone working in their fields that it was lunchtime. At 5pm, the music was followed by an announcement thanking everyone for their hard work, saying that it was time to go home, and telling workers to be careful of children playing — and not to drink and drive! Our island-hopping adventure through the Amami Islands happened all too fast and suddenly it was time to hop on the ferry to the final stop and one of my favourite cities, vibrant Naha, the capital of Okinawa. I've flown there many times, but this time, it was about the journey, not the destination. — Craig McLachlan is a Queenstown-based "freelance anything" who has been writing Lonely Planet guidebooks for over 25 years.
Scoop
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EU Greenwashing Crackdown: Tao Climate Gives Airlines A Hemp-Powered Way Out
DUBLIN, 5 June 2025 - The European Commission has put 17 major airlines on the legal naughty list for greenwashing, and Irish climate tech startup Tao Climate is here to bail them out - scientifically. With enforcement ramping up and reputations on the line, Tao Climate delivers a verified escape route for airlines that want to go from climate confusion to compliance champions. Backed by Google, Enterprise Ireland and the European Space Agency, Tao Climate's carbon measurement and removal platform has just been endorsed by the European Commission through acceptance onto the InvestEU investor platform. That makes it an officially qualified decarbonisation technology investment - and a smart one. 'Our platform delivers real science, real removal, and real credibility,' said Gary Byrnes, CEO of Tao Climate. 'You can't bluff Brussels anymore. Airlines need data, transparency and actual carbon removal - not vague promises and token trees.' Tao Climate's technology uses regenerative hemp farming to suck CO2 from the sky and lock it away in sustainable building materials. It's fast, measurable, and entirely verifiable - which is exactly what the EU wants. The startup will showcase its carbon-removing tech at Future Travel Experience EMEA and FTE Ancillary & Retailing, taking place in Dublin from 10-12 June. Airline and airport professionals can see the Tao Carbon API in action and literally touch a block of carbon-negative hempcrete at Stand S19. If you're flying into Dublin and worried about your carbon footprint, don't panic - Tao Climate can solve that too.
The Spinoff
4 days ago
- The Spinoff
Riding in the shadow of Nancy Wake
Writer Maria Gill follows the trail of the subject of her next book: New Zealand special operations executive in World War Two, Nancy Wake. 9–11 May 2025: In transit I landed in Paris on a Wednesday, trained to Toulouse to meet my 28-year-old son Tristan and his Irish girlfriend Caoimhe (pronounced Queeva) on the Thursday and picked up rental bikes and caught a train to Châteauroux on the Friday. The mission? Retrace part of Nancy Wake's legendary 630-kilometre bike ride through Nazi-occupied France. My upcoming young adult novel on Wake had pulled me deep into her world. And now, I wanted to feel it in my legs and lungs. In 1944, with her resistance network compromised, Nancy set out alone to find a radio operator in Châteauroux. Denis Rake, Nancy's radio operator, had buried the equipment to prevent it from falling into enemy hands. She needed a new drop from London. No backup. No guarantee. Just a bicycle, a forged identity, and the hope that she'd pass as an ordinary French housewife. The next day, we would set off on Nancy's route, reversed to suit our logistics. Not quite authentic, but close enough to follow her path. 12 May: The ride begins In the city centre we cycled along the ring road, the very place where Nancy once hunted for a hunchbacked radio operator. He turned her away, suspecting a trap. Undeterred, she detoured three hours into the Creuse region to find the Free French; resistance fighters loyal to Charles de Gaulle. They relayed her urgent message. We snapped photographs of the town's old gates and cobbled streets, then set off, supposedly for four hours. Our route skipped Nancy's detour through Bourges and Issoudun, as it added 100 extra kilometres on already dangerous roads. Instead we took the so-called shortcut to Saint-Amand-Montrond. Google Maps led us through tractor rutted paths, across flooded dirt tracks, and along glowing fields of rapeseed in bloom. We passed three-house villages, badgers paddling in ponds, and a lone deer in the woods. Then the rain came-cold, heavy, and relentless. We soon discovered that not all raincoats were waterproof. Ten hours later, soaked and mud-splattered, we finally arrived at our lodgings at 9pm. Tristan, clutching a hot chocolate, looked at me and said, 'This is not how I thought I'd spend my last weeks in Europe.' He was nearing the end of a 20-month Navy course. Not quite the send-off he imagined, but unforgettable. 13 May: Montluçon Sunshine greeted us the next day. We cruised along smooth canal paths to Montluçon, where Nancy and her resistance fighters once reclaimed the town from the Germans, only to retreat days later. At a brasserie we ordered drinks, possibly the same one where the owner had shouted to the resistance fighters, 'It's on the house!' Quaint on the outside, more biker bar on the inside, a heavily tattooed, ring-nosed bartender dropped our drinks with a scowl. Needing supplies, we browsed aisles full of cheese, patisseries, and cured meats that begged to be tasted at a local supermarket. A surly shop assistant, with a revolver tattoo behind her ear, slammed our produce onto scales. A far cry from the villagers who once toasted Nancy's bravery. 14–15 May: Resistance strongholds For the next two days, we stored our bikes in the Airbnb's basement and hired a car to take us to key nearby sites where Nancy fought with the resistance. First stop: Vichy, where Nancy had celebrated the war's end, only to learn the gestapo had executed her husband, Henri Fiocca. It was also where Marshal Philippe Pétain led the Vichy regime in the unoccupied southern zone of France after Germany defeated the country. It's now a busy town that has tried to leave its grisly past behind. But it's there if you look close enough. Historic buildings still bear gun-shot pock-wounds. We searched for the manor house where Nancy, fed-up with sleeping in the woods, decamped in the last months of France's war. After circling Fragnes aimlessly, Tristan pulled it up on a virtual Google Map but refused to join us. 'You're trespassing,' he warned. Caoimhe and I ignored him. We strolled down a quiet country lane and found it: a three-storey château with a bell tower, and an air of untouched history. This was where Nancy and her team had launched plans to sabotage German activities, had supplies from England parachuted in, and where she watched the German army march by, worried they would discover them any minute. We snapped a few photos, then slipped away unseen. The next morning, we drove to Cosne d'Allier where Nancy had parachuted into after a six-month spy training course in England. Near the war's end, she returned with the Spanish resistance to blow up a key bridge in this village. Locals gathered dangerously close to watch. Nancy had to wave them back. The villagers clapped when their bridge exploded before their eyes. Today, the town seems unchanged — same tolling bells, same narrow road, but a modern bridge now spans the river. From there, we drove through the ancient oak forest of Tronçais, once a resistance stronghold. Now a plantation, where logging trucks ruck the tracks to ferry logs out. At a nearby lake, we imagined Nancy bathing while Denis Rake stood guard, preventing any of the 8,000 resistance men taking a sneaky look. We ended the day at a winery. After a generous tasting, we asked what we owed. 'You're not in New Zealand now,' the owner said with a grin. 16 May: Sleet and hills Day three in the saddle: Montluçon to Mérinchal. Google Maps again promised a four-hour ride. We should've known better. Our journey included several steep ascents; one reached a height of 1170 metres. I had an electric bike so could inch up the hills. Tristan and Caoimhe were on push bikes. When Caoimhe couldn't continue, I swapped bikes. My legs quivered. My breath rasped. I'd ridden 20 kilometres daily for a year in preparation, but this was exhausting. Darkening clouds then released freezing sleet that lashed our already worn-out bodies just as we discovered we had another flat tyre. Tristan repaired a tube beneath a crooked lean-to, fingers numb. By the time we reached our destination 10 hours later, we were once again soaked to the bone, shaking, and spent. 17 May: A tactical taxi On day four of the cycling trip, Tristan and Caoimhe refused to ride the full route. By then, my son regretted not hiring electric bikes and had developed a strong dislike for Nancy's legacy. We opted for a taxi, cutting through villages that would've taken us three hours on bikes in just one hour. From Ussel, we cycled the last two hours onto Chabrat. The landscape echoed New Zealand: green fields and cream cows. But the similarities ended there. Every village boasted a Notre Dame church and stone houses centuries old. Many were half-abandoned; shuttered shops, crumbling walls, and endless fields of rapeseed, beautiful but reeking like urine. An unpleasant scent that lingered in the air. 18 May: The final push Two brutal 1,200-metre hills stood between us and our final destination in Laroquebrou. From there, a train would take us to our booked accommodation in Aurillac at 4.40pm. Our early departure took us past sleepy villages, down twisting descents, and up two steep hills. At 4pm we arrived early in the town, a rare occurrence. Laroquebrou hosted a castle on a hill, cobblestone streets, every stone soaked in history. Proud of our progress we celebrated with blonde beer and chocolate biscuits on the platform, beside tracks with grass growing through them. We should have paid more attention to that. Tristan checked the schedule. 'Are you sure it's a train we're catching, not a bus?' Sure enough, a bus flew past the train station. He ran after it. It didn't stop. The crushing reality: we'd have to bike another two hours to Aurillac. Caoimhe and I insisted on the car route, thinking it would be faster. The traffic flew past at over 110km/h. We persevered for 30 minutes, but it was too dangerous. Briefly, we considered a slippery quarry route before abandoning it. Reluctantly, we called a taxi. Forty minutes later it arrived, squeezing our bikes on two bike racks, and the car's boot. 19 May: Toulouse, and reflection In Toulouse, we returned our bikes. A friend later asked: 'Do you think you failed, taking taxis?' Not at all. My goal was to see Nancy's roads, feel her journey, and translate that into my novel; now in its second round of editing with One Tree House. Nancy Wake cycled 630 kilometres in 72 hours, with only one night's rest. She had no gears, no GPS, and death looming at every checkpoint. We rode 300 kilometres (not including the taxi miles) over five days. I rode an electric bike, knowing I would slow the team down if I used a push bike too. My son and his girlfriend, thirty years younger than myself, on geared push-bikes, found it tough going. My military son said, 'In wartime, you draw upon hidden reserves. In peacetime, you have choices.' He hoped he could do the same as Nancy under similar circumstances. Our ride wasn't flawless. There were flat tyres, wrong turns, rain, missed buses, and fatigue-fuelled arguments. But we earned every kilometre. We saw France from her pedals – not from a window seat – but with grit and effort. We glimpsed the forests where Nancy hid, the villages that turned a blind eye, and the fields where she raced against death. That's what makes Nancy's feat extraordinary. Following in her tyre tracks, we found respect and connection. It was a way to understand courage through motion. To trace the path of a woman who risked everything for freedom, and to experience just a shadow of her endurance.
