It seems appropriate to begin this new bloggy-journal thing with an ode to the enjoyment of two ultimate achievements, given that, most probably, said bloggy-journal-waffle thing will likely attempt to dabble in covering a spectrum of the two – eating great food and visiting great places.
Just the other day, I was spoiled rotten enough to enjoy the best breakfast in living memory at a cute cafe in my favourite town on earth. I’ll be gadding about in giddy glory on this dual win for weeks.
Arrowtown is tucked away in the quaintest, cutest (and in winter, coldest) pocket of Central Otago, about a 30 minute drive from bustling and tourist booming Queenstown. Arrowtown is all original, lovingly and meticulously preserved stone residential and commercial cottages and buildings from a time long past – it came to life as a gold-mining town in the Otago gold-rush of the 1860s; sparkling river; lush, verdant avenues of trees; scenic walks; and geohistoric appropriate shops and eating spots, all cosily nestled in stunning alpine surrounds. It’s not quite as heaving as Queenstown (even though it should be – but I’ll touch wood it never will be), meaning that its charming beauty can be enjoyed in relative peace and quiet.
Just a stone’s throw back from the main street (Buckingham Street), on Arrow Lane is The Chop Shop Food Merchants. The thriving eatery serves hearty but fresh, rustic but relevant café breakfast, lunch and brunch style food in a quirky loft style building conversion. Inside, historic details are considered with deco decanters serving as water jugs, hearth-top kettles stuffed with herbs and plants as table place holders and old grain sacks as table cloths. Quaint and rustic could be a recipe for cringe but there is none of that here, it comes off as classy, cosy and comforting – just perfect for enjoying Sunday brunch as my friend and I were. The real coop for this café is the gorgeous outdoor balcony that sits a few tables and, in my opinion, the best seats in the house that are bar style and that look out over busy Buckingham Street, beautiful old stone buildings, and sun dappled, grand old trees displaying rich seasonal colour. Sure you’re not facing your companion but you’re richly rewarded with the prettiest of views.
The menu caters to all tastes, it’s not super fancy so most diners will find something satisfying and fussy foodies will satiated with simplicity celebrated by being executed well with quality combinations and ingredients. There’s healthy options, egg-y options, and plenty of treats for the sweet tooth.
The staff were very friendly, welcoming, knowledgeable, flexible (I dragged my friend and our cutlery and crockery from our original inside table as soon as I saw a golden spot become free outdoors on that triumph of a balcony) and efficient - a combination that is surprisingly rare these days.
My friend and I had been on a bit of an eating bender around the Lakes District over the past week so entered The Chop Shop feeling a little heavier and not as hungry as usual, so we both chose something simple (and yes the same thing) from the menu – and boy were spectacularly surprised and completely delighted by our choice. We went from glum and hung (over) at the first bite of our Turkish Eggs with Greek Yoghurt.
The meal consisted of a few simple elements – lightly charred Turkish bread (and plenty of it!), and two poached eggs sitting in a small pool of garlic infused Greek yoghurt with chilli oil drizzled on the top. It was sensational. A paradoxical taste-bud explosion created from simple components but concocted with clever chef-y wizardry. It was like those rare times when you have incredibly good sex missionary style, primal but potently pleasurable.
The sour tang of the yoghurt was softened with a delicious yet delicate amount of garlic while the chilli oil brought the bang. The eggs were super fresh with rich orange yolks. I was worried the textures of the yoghurt and the eggs would be too same-same and slimy (as I often find with over-hyped, hollandaise-y, yolky, and, sorry-not-sorry, basic eggs Bene) but they were perfectly companionable. We gleefully mopped up every last morsel of this meal with the fresh Turkish bread and then sat like fat, smug pigs, grinning from ear to ear and not able to offer much more than primitive grunts as remarks of appreciation due to the wonderful, orgasmic experience our taste buds had just endured.
As you can see from the terrible, retrospective picture above, I was unable to produce a decent photo of this most perfect of meals in the most perfect of towns but I hope almost 900 words will compensate (well done if you made it this far) and convince you to GO TO ARROWTOWN, experience it’s magic and visit the Chop Shop Food Merchants (the Turkish Eggs are good) and wallow in tasty foody, fantastic travel-y heaven.
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