Cheese rolls, Bluff oysters and blue cod, yes, but also pāua wontons, ensaymadas, gin flights, beef tataki and much more.

The regional capital of Murihiku Southland and Aotearoa’s southernmost city, Invercargill has a particular kind of magic. According to food writer Louise Evans, at least some of that alchemy is edible.

Evans knows Invercargill’s food. Not just because she’s from there – something you might guess from her rolled r’s – but also because she has spent years eating her way around the city and the region more broadly. She is the creator of Wee Magazine, a sporadic publication devoted to Southland’s food and art, and is an enthusiastic champion of its food businesses and producers. She also hosts Wee Fest, a series of small food events showcasing Invercargill’s food scene to locals.

“I’m lucky to have found my way home after years of storytelling for other places and brands,” she says. “And now I make a habit of learning and sharing all of ours.”

Here is Evans’ wee list of some of the tastiest things to get your hands on in Invercargill.

Three words that sum up the food in Invercargill: Generous. Grounded. Evolving.

My most controversial food opinion about Invercargill: Cheese rolls, or “Southland’s Sushi”, aren’t supposed to be fancy. They’re fundraiser food. Baked with love (or obligation) by teams of volunteers in cold community halls, mixing tonnes of cheese in buckets with power drills. Slightly freezer-burnt, toasted at home, dunked into vegetable soup and dripping with butter. Making them artisan with herbs and gourmet fillings feels a bit performative.

Everyone has a dining out pet peeve. Mine is: Menus that haven’t been edited. Too many dishes, too many pages and too many spelling mistakes. If produce changes with the seasons, the menu should too. Invest in a blackboard.

The local dish I crave most: Creamy pāua wontons at The Anchorage in Bluff.

The best restaurant in Invercargill is: I don’t think Invercargill has a “best” restaurant any more. The meals I get most excited for aren’t in restaurants. They’re found at the one-off events where Southland chefs seem to come alive.

A perfect example was Bon Appetītī, a celebration of the tītī, at The Batch last year. It was storytelling from people whose whānau have been birding for generations, watching a muttonbird be deboned between courses, and leaving with tītī butter. Other events like the Hākari at The Anchorage and Feast Matariki Awarua layered stories of the past, culture, and hope for the future onto the plate. The Bluff Oyster Festival reminds everyone that Bluff is about far more than oysters, thankfully, with kina, crayfish and adorable cocktail pāua all getting their moment. And Southern Field Days isn’t just about tractors or stock feed but also one of the best food events of the year, with local chefs cooking for the region’s biggest agricultural brands.

Stand-out dishes from those events: Half-and-half oyster by chef Ethan Flack. Crispy on one side, melt-in-your-mouth raw on the other. Hunter/gatherer Dan Tarrant’s filleted in-front-of-you ceviche. Pāua relish by chef Hayz (Haylee-Chanel Simeon). Tātia sauce from Uncle’s Food Truck.

When I’m craving something cheap and cheerful I head to: Luisteambuns.

The most underrated local gem is: A’s Cafe in Windsor. The Filipino food scene has become one of the most exciting things happening in Southland food. It’s gone from home kitchens to restaurants with menus full of flavour and dishes many of us have never tried before.

A recent food discovery I can’t stop talking about: The fry bread from Kai Reka (a food truck in Bluff). Their cream pāua on fries is also stupidly tasty.

A place I’ve been dying to try is: Whatever opens next. I’m very much looking forward to seeing who takes on the new Te Unua Southland Museum Cafe lease. At 267m2 and spilling into Queens Park, it’s set to become an institution, with the opportunity to tell Murihiku stories through food.

Celebrating with a group? Book a table at: Koji. The food is consistently good, the beer is cold, and it never tries to be anything other than a genuinely enjoyable place to eat. Plus the staff have a great sense of humour, and the beef tataki is always a hit.

Pub or bar of choice: Gadoochi Brewing. It’s an old engineering warehouse turned brewery with large scale art by Nicola McGilvray hanging from the rafters. A fun venue for live music, comedy and beer tasting. Gadoochi are known for their not-so-sweet ciders pressed from Central Otago fruit, but if you love a hazy, the Walking Juice Hazy Pale Ale is worth getting a flagon of. When Mash x Uppercuts food truck is parked outside, cancel your dinner plans and grab lamb shoulder loaded agrias (spuds) or a crispy pork belly roti roll.

For a late-night food fix you’ll find me: Standing in front of my pantry self-negotiating the consumption of yet another salted brown butter cookie as I feed a newborn.

Got visitors from out of town? I’m taking them to: Bluff. Start with a tasting at Bluff Distillery, for their award-winning gin, then The Anchorage with Hayz for traditional kai Māori with a modern twist and let the place do the rest. Bluff has a way of making people understand Southland very quickly. Plus you can stand at the top of Bluff Hill and have your breath taken away.

An ideal date spot would be: 360 for a liquid dinner. The cocktail list is a drawcard, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t mostly about the view. Southland does big skies better than almost anywhere.

Make sure to order: A flight of three local gins. Third Island Gin from Rakiura Distillery, a crisp Bluff Gin, and Auld’s Endless Fields Gin. All award-winning.

But avoid: Auld’s Oceans Keep (an oyster gin) – unless you’re committed to the maritime experience. One sip and you’ll know exactly where it came from.

Invercargill’s best…

Breakfast: The Batch Café.

Coffee: Groove. They roast their own beans, pour your coffee faster than you can pay, know the dogs by name, and groove with the toddlers as they wait for fluffies.

Sandwich: A Wild Yeast bagel.

Noodles: The buttery swede noodle soup that chef Ethan Flack occasionally appears with at events is a dish I think about far too often.

Pie: Miss steak and cheese from Fat Bastard Pies. Or depending on their pie of the month, that. They deliver nationally too.

Ice cream: Blueberry ice cream from the Otautau Orchard in summer. I hang out for it all year. The toddlers love picking their own berries too.

Comfort meal: The miso kūmara from The Batch. Although, on some days it’s their granola, their brown butter cookies or simply one of their scones loaded with whipped butter. Walking into The Batch cafe is like coming home. They do comfort food extremely well.

Kaimoana: Toheroa patties. Which is admittedly a frustrating answer because you can’t just wander into a restaurant and order them. And you need a permit to dig for them. But if someone offers, don’t say no.

Fish and chips: Wherever you can get fresh blue cod.

And the best place to unwrap and eat them is: Sitting out the front of the South Sea Hotel in Rakiura with a local gin, one of the best views in the country and undoubtedly some tall tales from the locals.

Bread: FlourBro’s jalapeno and cheddar sourdough.

Baked treat: Based on repeat purchases, hands down the scones from The Batch.

What defines a great scone? A great scone should make you question the cafe’s bottom line. They should be beyond generous with the cheese, and dense enough that you don’t lose any to crumbs. The Batch’s has ruined every other cafe’s scone for me.

For a serious sweet tooth, head to: Coffee with J. Their filled doughnuts are lighter than air. And the ube is delicious, seriously whimsical in colour and moreish.

If you’re after spice, try: Last Light Lodge’s hot sauce. You can get it out in Tuatapere, or at the Environment Centre in Riverton. Organic, locally grown and packs a punch.

The dairy with the best lolly selection: Toot Sweets. Part lolly shop, part childhood fever dream. OK, it’s not a dairy, but there’s a giant Jaffa room, and the candy floss from the machine is bigger than your head.

A little local treat that always cheers me up: Sam’s cheesy ensaymadas from the Southern Farmers Market.

For the best produce, I stop in at: The Southern Farmers Market on Sunday mornings, Wilson’s Produce on the way to Winton, or one of the community food gardens dotted around the city – some put in by council, others by guerilla gardeners.

One of Southland’s underrated strengths is: how close we remain to the people producing our food.

A perfect place to linger over a drink: Amplify Roastery. Same people as Groove, but a completely different pace. You can watch coffee being roasted, talk beans and lose an hour to food chat with the regulars like David who runs the hidden burger joint just around the corner.

For outstanding people watching, go to: The coffee shop inside E. Hayes & Sons hardware store. You get a great cross section: pottering old men here for a very particular screwdriver, tourists here for the World’s Fastest Indian, specialty bakeware perusers, and parents of toddlers rebranding a coffee outing by adding tools and motorbikes.

The place I’m most likely to bump into someone I know: The Batch. Or Groove. Or the Farmers Market. Actually, most places.

The place I go to avoid bumping into anyone I know: I haven’t found it yet. Southland is small, and I love connecting with food producers.

A local spot I wish we could bring back from the dead is: Louie’s which closed in 2023. Mana’s stories. The lamb tacos. The pâté. The dimmed lights. The wine list. It was our third place.

A restaurant I would love to relocate to Invercargill: I’d rather see someone local create the next great Southland restaurant.

The place I return to again and again: The Batch.

Why I love eating in Invercargill: Our ingredients are world class. And they come from real people. Bill’s lamb, Annette’s strawberries, Logan’s milk, David’s carrots, Chris’s gin, Gustavo’s mushrooms.

In many ways, the restaurant scene here still gives “rural city”: big portions, comfort food, plenty of deep-fried favourites and menus that often try to do too much. But small producers are making remarkable things, and some of the best things I’ve eaten in Southland only existed for a single night. There are empty spaces waiting for the right idea, locals waiting for an experience, and stories waiting to be told on a plate. Here’s hoping the next great idea is already being scribbled on the back of a serviette somewhere.