Lemons off the Tree

The French doors swung out to a wee stone patio. Stepping into warm early evening and passing a lemon tree, I plucked a large, thick-skinned specimen to take back to the kitchen. The smell of chopped garden herbs reminded me to rub them into the butterflied lamb leg while the grill heated outside. And the glass of white wine from the vineyard down the street was a convincing companion for the late-caught and just-seared scallops, which anticipated a squeeze of that lemon. Forgive me for mistaking my situation for Santorini or some such Mediterranean clime. This was New Zealand, South Island.
In the middle of a month-long tour of the South Island with my outdoor-adventuring wife and our two boys under five, my micro-biologist brother had joined my food-and-wine obsessed self from Sydney for five days of family style exploration.
Despite our unlikely confluence of quirks, the area provided plenty. When we weren’t hiking Harwood Hole, swimming Split Apple Rock, lounging on Mapua Wharf or cycling Rabbit Island, we could stop at the local fruit stands, fish shops, wineries, breweries, markets and cafés for our meals.
Yet our base, the Nelson Coastal Barnstay in Motueka, provided our most meaningful memories. Along with such family-friendly amenities as a full kitchen, outdoor grill, washer-dryer, beach toys, puzzles and books about local flora and fauna, the cottage-style design complete with loft bedroom was just the start. Potatoes and tomatoes from our (genuinely hospitable) hosts’ garden sat on the kitchen counter. Dudley and George the piglets greeted us with gusto from behind their 8-wire pen in anticipation of our scraps. A Tui serenaded us in his high-frequency croak from a broad-leaf tree arching over our al fresco dining spot. While eating, we gazed out over the Lower Moutere hills in the distance, a horse paddock in the middle ground, and the olive grove down the slope. Strolling the grounds, we had our pick of lemons to use in meals or just eat off the rind. We could continue to wander up the property, past the artist’s residence and through a field that led down a sweeping grassy slope to the private beach.
And to get there? West off the Coastal Highway on Aporo Road, then around several bends and past a few trees to two grassy banks, in between which lies a gravel drive. With directions like that, home grown food, pigs in a yard, a walk to the beach and artists in residence, we were granted the grace of travelling back in time, space and pace.