An Afternoon in Oamaru

Dry Goods "Clerk"

Tiger Lily's
Janet Frame House
Riverstone Cafe
Summer Fruit Pannetone
Apricot-Laced Meringue

We headed out for Oamaru because we read about a farm shop we wanted to visit to stockup for our last few days in NZ when we would be in a self-catering cottage on Banks Peninsula. The farm shop listed in Tastes of New Zealand, a free tourist publication, was said to be 6 km south of Oamaru on South Main Rd. Well we couldn’t find it so headed to the Green i in Oamaru to get some help. The girl there had never heard of it either so we decided to skip it and head for the Whitestone Cheese headquarters in town. We’ve been tasting our way through their cheeses since we arrived on the South Island, having difficulty deciding whether Windsor Blue or Vintage Blue is the best.

Before leaving the tourist information station, we viewed a 10 min. film and about this extraordinary town. If Dunedin is the quintessential Scottish town in NZ, Oamaru is the English equivalent. It looks like a town that time has forgotten – great white Victorian behemoths line the substantial main street. We learned from the film that the streets were built so wide to allow teams of oxen to make U-turns during the 19th century. Oamaru was quite the place during Victorian times but then suffered during an economic recession and never recovered. It conveys a slightly sad derelict air which the locals work their darndest to dispel. Retirees man the local radio station – we saw the DJ at work spinning his discs, tunes from the 50s, folk tunes, country and western – you get the picture. For fans of 96.3 Classical FM, he was the John Van Driel of Oamaru. Others worked in the vintage clothing shop, Tiger Lily, spinning yarn and manning the counter of an old time dry goods store. There was a stone carver, tile maker, penny farthing antique bicycle shop and genuine bakery that made excellent Hot Cross Buns.

Unfortunately the cheese factory was closed, but as the cheeses are widely available, and we’ve visited cheese factories before being true foodies, we weren’t deflated. We headed back toward town to investigate a sign pointing to the Janet Frame house. Janet Frame is a famous NZ writer, much revered in the country. I haven’t read any of her books yet, but I knew of her from Jane Campion’s acclaimed film adapted from her book An Angel at My Table. I’ve seen her books everywhere but haven’t bought one because they are usually in hard cover and too heavy to carry right now.

We were in luck, the house is open each afternoon 2-4 p.m., and it was now 3 p.m. We were met at the door by a lovely serious-minded volunteer, a true devotee of Janet Frame. She explained that though this was a childhood home, the furnishings were not original. Locals had procured and arranged them to create the atmosphere of a 1931-1943 home. There were framed quotations from Janet’s books and poems throughout, and we listened to a recorded radio broadcast of her reading an excerpt from To the Is-Land. The volunteer said that she often switched it on when there were no visitors just to hear the author’s voice in the house.
After viewing house and garden, we chatted with her before leaving, and she advised us to stop at the Riverstone Cafe on the outskirts of town on the main road.

We seemed to go a long way but didn’t give up hope as we hadn’t passed the airport on our right yet. Sure enough after about 15 minutes, we found it. We were a bit sceptical because there was a wooden castle-like structure in the large chicken pen that also housed a resident peacock, and a sign boasting the best gift shop for miles around. The gift shops were cluttered with all manner of gifty detritus throughout. However we made our way to the cafe and immediately knew we had struck pay dirt. This was no ordinary cafe and since we had been disappointed to miss Fleur’s in Moeraki, we decided to have dinner even though it was only teatime! The food was heavenly. I had the famous local green lipped mussels in a Thai coconut, lime chilli broth, and Duncan enjoyed deep fried zucchini-blossoms stuffed with 3 cheeses. We decided to be gluttonous and have our own desserts rather than sharing as we usually do – I, the apricot laced meringue with fresh cream, and Duncan, the summer berry panetone with homemade vanilla ice cream – the kind where you see the flecks of vanilla bean in the cream. I read the recipe for Duncan’s dessert in their cookbook, the crème anglaise was made with a litre of cream and 6 eggs! Mine had to have fewer calories. Needless to say both were heaven sent and heavenly. I wrapped one of my mussel shells in a serviette as a souvenir, I’ve never seen anything like them before, when cooked the edges turn a brilliant emerald green, too beautiful to discard, I wish I could have kept them all. (Later I discarded it, Australia doesn’t allow shells through customs.)