The Landing Residences

If you’ve ever found yourself wishing for your own wine estate in some far-flung locale, then New Zealand’s gastronomic hideaway the Landing Residences might be your best bet for living out the fantasy, at least for a few nights.

While I knew I had booked a highly luxurious property for the weekend, neither myself nor Mrs Smith were quite prepared for just how spoiling our break would be. But first, a bit about our New Zealand adventure… For those who have driven in New Zealand, you will commiserate about the surprising frequency with which paved roads devolve to gravel paths. The bumpy rides earnt me more than one questioning glance from Mrs Smith on our drive up from Auckland, but I assured her that we were in for a lovely weekend and that my driving skills were more than adequate. This was met with an eye roll and a sigh, but all was forgiven as we pulled up to the private gate of the Landing Residences.

The property is seductively hidden from prying eyes in the sort of fresh green stretch New Zealand has in abundance; however, the 15-metre sculpture of a silver Maori oar that greets us signals that this is no ordinary stay. We were promptly greeted by our personal concierge and led down to our hideaway (one of just four onsite), the Boathouse. While the name sounds fairly pedestrian, the property is anything but, with a sprawling living room, indoor-outdoor kitchen, patio reaching out over the bay and views across the sparkling Pacific. Mrs Smith is originally a Southern California girl, so any hotel located on a body of water is deemed acceptable. Within a few minutes, she had a glass of the Landing’s own chardonnay in hand and was curled up next to a roaring fire, gazing out across the bay. Eye rolls no more.

Once settled, our personal concierge ran us through our new home’s features, pointing out pertinent details, such as the spotlights illuminating a seven-metre war canoe hanging from the ceiling. Dark local wood and stone gave the Boathouse a masculine feel that perfectly complements the traditional Maori longhouse design (an architectural thread that runs through every building on the property) – it’s comfortable and luxuriously appointed, and designed with a refreshing sense of provenance in mind.

We have a private boat tour on the Landing’s vessel (the Iti Rangi), plus a wine tasting, privately cooked chef’s dinner and an evening kiwi-spotting tour (also private) all scheduled for the following day, so Mrs Smith and I responsibly knocked back just one bottle of chardonnay before retiring. Our Saturday flew by in the best ways possible: the boat tour not only showed us the Bay of Islands, but introduced us to wild mako sharks, fur seals, and – to Mrs Smith’s personal delight – petite blue penguins. The hotel is certainly wish-fulfilling and beautifully designed, but one of the most enjoyable aspects of the Landing is how at ease the staff make you feel. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming and there’s a laidback pace, all of which make it easy to detach from the day-to-day of email and phones. This restfulness and cosseting carried through our tour of the property, the wine tasting back in the Boathouse, and our private dinner.

A word on the dinner: I consider myself a cosmopolitan individual and have travelled a fair bit of the world, but a private dinner cooked by a professional chef in my home (at least for the night) was a new level of luxury. To start, we were led out to the outdoor patio, where a fire had been lit, for glasses of wine and amuse-bouches (some local cheese and homemade crackers). After a few glasses, we were ushered back into our own kitchen, which had been magically transformed into a candle-illuminated dining room for two. Yet another fire had been lit to set the mood, and the table was laden with local New Zealand bounty. The amount of food Mrs Smith and I consumed is slightly embarrassing in hindsight, but we do have an American stereotype to satisfy. Two courses of local oysters (both raw and fried, with the lightest Japanese-inspired tempura), a decadent côte de boeuf with Bordelaise sauce, and a food-coma-inducing molten chocolate cake stood with the best of the meals we’d had on our three-week New Zealand escapade. The chocolate cake proved to be the coup de grâce for Mrs Smith, so she curled up next to the fire with yet another glass of syrah (yes, wine was our theme for the weekend), as I geared up for a nighttime kiwi spotting tour. 

These adorable cartoonish birds are incredibly rare and not easy to spot in the wild, so I wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to see them in their natural habitat. My guide for the evening was a jovial groundskeeper who drove us to the edge of the property in an off-road vehicle. It wasn’t long before the kiwi’s distinctive call rang out. We ventured further along the myriad walking paths and spotted four of the sweet little guys running for cover. With that, I’d ticked off every box for the day. I walked back past the dying embers of the fire on the patio, listening to the waves gently crash against the shore in the background, and felt comforted that magic, though elusive, still exists in some parts of the world.