14 Foods To Try In New Zealand

I expected a lot of things when I planned a trip to the North Island of New Zealand. I expected to see lots of beautiful green fields and rolling hills, Shire-style — got them. I expected an epic visit with one of my best friends — did not disappoint. I expected to get mobbed by her herd of cats and wildly enthusiastic dog — cannot accurately convey the level of enthusiasm.

What I did not expect was truly excellent food. If you'd asked me beforehand where to go for amazing grub, I would have told you France or Thailand or Brazil, but New Zealand wouldn't have been on my list. Oh, how wrong I was.

In the course of eight days, I was exposed to more delicious meals than I can record here, many of them semi-familiar. However, my hosts surprised me with a shockingly delightful amount of savory pastry and a number of dishes I'd never even heard of. I immediately knew I had to report back. So without further ado, here are foods to try next time you're in New Zealand, in no particular order.

If you like ceviche, you absolutely have to try ika mata. It's the world's yummiest combination of fresh raw fish, veggies, and creamy sauce, and I couldn't get enough of it. I ordered it several times (essentially whenever I had the opportunity), and it was surprising how consistent its flavor and excellence were. From street stalls to nice brunch places, it was just great.

What exactly is ika mata? It's a signature dish from the Cook Islands, a widely scattered group in Polynesia, south of Hawaii and east of New Zealand. Traditionally it uses tuna, chopped small and mixed with coconut milk and citrus. Stir in some chopped cucumber, red pepper, and purple onion, and you have a glorious medley of flavor and freshness that's perfect for a warm day. Since there's no cooking involved, this is a great dish for inexperienced home cooks to make. Just be sure to taste it to make sure your salt levels are right before serving.

When I was planning my trip, I was told by the good friend with whom I'd be staying that mince savories were The Thing To Try when I was in New Zealand. Essentially miniature hand pies of a size and shape you'd get from baking in muffin tins, they're a favorite of hers, so naturally I had to try one when we went to the nearby bakery.

What Americans must understand about mince is that it is not the same as mincemeat. That is a traditional holiday mixture that incorporates dried fruit, sweeteners, and booze, with roots in Medieval cuisine. Mince, on the other hand, is simply the word that British and New Zealanders use to refer to ground meat. In addition to the meat (usually beef), the mince includes onions, carrots, garlic, mushrooms, tomato paste, and beef stock, cooked down into a meltingly savory paste. Sometimes the little pie also has cheese in it, thus turning it into a mince and cheese savory. Hurrah for names that don't make you think.

Bacon has some sort of strange sorcery. It's good on its own, it's delicious seasoned, it's amazing stuffed into pies and placed between patties and dropped onto donuts. And of course, it's the yummiest when paired with eggs. Enter the bacon and egg pie, a New Zealand specialty that was every bit as delicious as my hosts promised it would be, especially homemade.

To make a bacon and egg pie, you first line a tin with puff pastry. My host mama advised a tin that pulls apart, so you can put the cooked pie on a board before slicing. A cake pan with a removable bottom will work nicely, though she had a nifty contraption that broke into two pieces laterally. Whatever works, I guess. The addition of tomato chutney, cheese, bacon, and herbs lays a savory base. The real novelty for Americans, though, is that you crack the eggs in whole. That way, when they bake, you get nice chunks of yolk in your portion.

Before you stress that puff pastry is simply too hard to make, I will say two things: My New Zealand hosts agreed, informing me that store-bought puff pastry was the only way to go; and the queen of the Great British Baking Show herself agrees with this. Yes, Prue Leith prefers store-bought puff pastry, plain and simple. That means you can, too.

People, listen to me when I say: I'll never look at green kiwis again, because they cannot possibly compare to gold kiwifruit (Actinidia chinensis). Now, yes, I know you can get gold kiwifruit in the United States. No, it is not and never will be the same, sorry. There were cute little kiwi farms all over the side of the road in New Zealand, and I wanted to raid literally all of them. The fruits were so fresh, soft, and flavorful, in ways that they never are by the time they get to American grocery stores. Which isn't to say they're not still delicious, because they are. Believe it or not, kiwis even work to tenderize meat. Seriously, what can't they do?

One of the things I enjoyed most about the kiwifruit in New Zealand is that my hosts had put it in the fridge. I've personally only ever kept kiwi on the counter at room temperature, but it turns out there are better ways to store ripe kiwifruit. The fridge makes them cold, where they retain their soft texture but don't disintegrate.

On a final note, in New Zealand, one never refers to kiwifruit as kiwis. The latter means either the bird or a New Zealand citizen. Either way, it is inappropriate and illegal to consume them, so don't. Stick with kiwifruit, eh?

If there is one dish that rises above the rest on the list of Things You Must Try Or It Will Be Like You Didn't Even Come to New Zealand, it's kiwi dip. Again, this is not a dip made of kiwis (birds, fruit, or people). It is, rather, named after its country of origin. While it's really no more than glorified onion dip, it is hard to express exactly how much more glorious it is than the traditional version until you've tried it. The takeaway: soooo much more.

Why, you're wondering? It all comes down to the dairy. Like your average game day onion dip, this calls for a packet of onion soup powder (Maggi brand is best) to be stirred into a milk product. Unlike the usual, the dairy called for here is a can of reduced cream. This is exactly what it sounds like: cream that has been boiled down until it has lost much of its moisture content and becomes super thick. The thing is, you can't get reduced cream outside New Zealand and Australia.

This leaves you with two choices. Option one: Reduce some cream, which isn't hard. The fat content of cream is so high it will not break even if you boil the crap out of it. It's time-consuming and sweaty labor, though, which leads to option two: Spend 28 hours traveling to New Zealand and eat kiwi dip that someone else has prepared for you using the correct ingredients. There is a less-than-ideal option of three: Use evaporated milk. Since it isn't sweetened, it may provide the same thickening qualities without adding extra flavor. I'm told that even then it's not the same, though. Go for option two, and don't forget the crinkle-cut potato chips.

Now for the absolute best thing I ate on my trip: salt and pepper squid. I got this at a hole-in-the-wall shop while staying in Auckland. Granted, I was quite hungry, having made the uninformed choice to walk from my flat all the way to the zoo, getting lost several times along the way. Still, though, I think I would have loved it no matter what.

Essentially, salt and pepper squid is just a type of calamari with an Asian spin. Calamari is, in turn, simply a type of breaded and fried squid, rebranded in the '90s with a gourmet Italian spin to appeal to American diners. The craze for calling it calamari hasn't reached full saturation in New Zealand, where at least half the menu items still use the simple "squid" designation. That doesn't seem to be the only difference, though, as the squid was bigger and more tender than what we're used to here. Like the ika mata, I ordered this whenever I could.

At this point, it's probably best if you take a seat, because what I'm about to say will change your life: Peppermint slice is the only dessert worth eating ever again. Okay, that might be a stretch, but I will say that it quickly skyrocketed to No. 1 on my list of home-baked treats. My host mistress Lisa was admittedly a sorceress in the kitchen, but I think this would be delicious prepared by anyone.

Peppermint slice consists of a base of chocolate, nuts, and coconut, with a layer of peppermint cream (think York Peppermint Patties) on top of that, all covered with a layer of chocolate. Let set in fridge, slice into squares, serve to the American... perfection achieved. I got the recipe and will be making this myself at Christmas this year.

As if peppermint slice weren't enough of a boon, there are a million other types of slice to choose from, as well. It must be said that "slice," while it sounds intriguing, is merely another way of saying "dessert you cut up into squares." The British call this a tray bake, while Americans use the generic term "bar." Still, it includes absolutely everything in that category, including brownies, blondies, lemon bars, crumble bars, and so on and so forth. As such, it's a handier catchall than any term we have.

And it's, like, a big deal there. Walk into any bakery (and I walked into as many as I could, you better believe), and you'll see that slices make up a huge component of the food on offer. There wasn't enough to try them all, so my recommendation for visitors is this: do your best and book your next flight as soon as you get home.

As a foreigner, I was a bit confused by the definition of pie at first. To kiwis, the generic term pie can refer to a dessert, a large savory pie meant for sharing, or an individual serving that we would call a turnover or hand pie. Pies are a classic lunch item for laborers ("tradies," in the New Zealand parlance) because they're hot, filling, and quick. Honestly, though, even if you work in an office all day, they're a good lunchtime bet.

Chicken and mushroom pie is a great example. It's kind of like a mini bacon and egg pie, except the filling is different and it's meant for one. It's also a bit like a savory, in that it has classic umami flavors. But unlike savories, which use what looks to be shortcrust pastry, chicken and mushroom pies are larger, shaped like hand pies rather than little muffins. If your head is spinning, don't worry: Mine was, too, and I had them all laid out at the counter for me.

To be fair, you can get good chicken liver pâté in many countries, including the U.S. However, as a diehard aficionado, I can honestly say that the New Zealand jarred pâté my hosts put in my fridge for me (thoughtfulness to a new level, seriously) was the best I've ever had. And that includes the version I make myself using the recipe invented by culinary goddess Ruth Reichl.

The brand pictured above is the one I tried, and it had all the attributes you need in a good pâté: creaminess, richness, a brown outside and a pink inside (due to oxidization), and a perfect mix of salty and sweet, with a slightly boozy finish. The one thing this pâté had that I haven't experienced before was a little layer of jelly at the bottom, a bit like aspic. That was a nice treat, making me wish I'd brought home about 10 jars of it.

French fries aren't even really French at all. They purportedly have their origins in Belgium, when the residents of Namur couldn't fry the fish to which they were accustomed due to a deep freeze. So they did what anyone would and went for potatoes instead. Wherever fries are from, we can agree they rock, and nowhere do they rock as much as in New Zealand.

Seriously, I ate a lot of fries while I was there. Like, a lot a lot... on four separate occasions in eight days, if I recall correctly. You might point out that I seem to have a problem with fries, and you might be right. But more importantly, each time I ordered fries, they were the best fries I'd ever had. How? Epic potatoes? Extra fat? Vacation high? I really don't know, but I humbly submit that whatever magic was working in my favor would work in yours as well.

On a final note, let me just say that fries in general are awesome, but the truffle fries were *chef's kiss* at a whole new level. If you find those at a restaurant, you'd be remiss not to try them.

While they're not a common find in American cafés, melting moments are a staple in New Zealand and Australia. They're essentially shortbread sandwich cookies that have lemon frosting between them, but according to my friend, they're so much more than that. They melt. For a moment. And during that moment, you are in heaven.

Now, we're all going to have to take my friend's word for this, because the one I tried was good but not transportive. I'd gotten a second for her, and she confirmed that it was not the best one she'd had. My advice here is definitely to try and find one that's better, because I was assured multiple times that it's a truly unmissable experience when done right. Also, they're not that hard to make, so you might want to put them on your holiday cookie plate this year.

For your penultimate New Zealand recommendation, I feel duty-bound to put forth loquats (Eriobotrya japonica). This is less because they're so delicious, and more because it's just a fun experience to eat something that you simply can't get around here (at least where I live in Portland, Oregon). They grow everywhere in New Zealand, however, including my hosts' yard, so I was naturally going to try them.

To be fair, I was forewarned they wouldn't hold a candle to, say, gold kiwifruit (but, then, nothing can). They're tasty enough, with sweet flesh and big seeds that are easy to spit out. Apparently, they're a popular jam ingredient, too. But, to be honest, this is more a recommendation for the simple reason that the next time you get a weird specialty ice cream flavor or kind-of-out-there candle that includes loquat, you'll know where it's coming from.

As is only right and proper, I saved one of the most orgasmically exciting recommendations for last. While it wasn't my absolute favorite (a spot reserved for the salt and pepper squid), this was a truly wonderful lunch experience. I love lamb, so it may just be me, but this pie is basically heaven on earth. It was much like a mince savory in terms of filling, with classic leg of lamb and mint sauce flavors rather than beef pie flavors. The other difference between that and a savory is the crust, because like the chicken and mushroom pie, puff pastry was the star of the show.

Like the other puff pastry-based pies on this list, you could make one yourself if you were so inclined. It's basically just a lamb stew that's been slow-cooked until it's super thick, then poured into a pastry base.

Fresh mint is always lovely, but if you don't have any growing in your yard (which is probably for the best, given how invasive it is), and it's too spendy at the store, dried mint is a good option. It still has plenty of seasoning power and tastes great with meat. Buy sifted leaves so you avoid the stems, though. Better yet: Hop on a plane to New Zealand and just buy a lamb and mint pie there.