 Maori greeting, as I heard the country widely described as Aotearoa, I realised that Maori culture is not just given a nod here but is mainstream. And it is very much part of the nation's food and drink culture. Hayden's winery is part of the Maori Winemakers Collective. For him, this symbolises a respect for traditions, and perhaps for the glass in front of me, but more importantly for the land. 'I do as little as possible to the ground, apart from growing a few vines,' he explains. And then I realise the cause of his excitement. This 2008 is one of the last bottles of a pinot noir heralded as a sensation across the world. And that sip is the beginning of a wine adventure that will captivate me in the coming days. I will taste exceptional wines of the two classic grapes, chardonnay and pinot noir, and learn about the 45th parallel south, the circle of latitude that links this part of Central Otago with Burgundy in France, which lies along its northern counterpart. The growing mutual admiration society from winemakers in those two regions, despite such a vast distance between them, is a revelation. But while man – well, this one – can sip a crisp chardonnay by itself until the cows come home, a good pinot noir needs a cut of fine meat. And I soon found myself lunching at a small place called Pitches, in the old gold-mining town of Ophir.){kind=link}
I knew little about the island country but its wineries, farms and restaurants reveal a rich culinary culture – and spark a fierce debate
What did New Zealand mean to me? Having never quite made it that far, I had only the vaguest notions about the country, its people, culture and food. I was aware that it was a sparsely populated land of extraordinary scenery (that PR job coming courtesy of Lord of the Rings). I knew, of course, of its indigenous people, the Maori, the related All Blacks haka, Jacinda the lockdown queen and a very large quantity of cheap sauvignon blanc.
Then there was that distinctly colonial pudding, the pavlova – or was that Australia’s dessert? Oh, and their lamb. Their dastardly lamb, outrageously nudging our own home-grown meat out of the chillers at Waitrose.
So when an invitation popped up to speak at the Auckland Writers Festival, I felt it was time to check my rather scant knowledge against the reality on the ground. And get an answer to the big pavlova question.
I was barely off the third plane of my long haul when, at 1.30pm, a man called Hayden Johnston was pouring me a glass of pinot noir in a tasting room at his Kuru Kuru winery in the Bendigo region of Central Otago.