The rise and fall of Cotto (Image: Tina Tiller)
The rise and fall of Cotto (Image: Tina Tiller)

KaiJanuary 6, 2025

Inside the fast rise and faster collapse of the acclaimed K Road restaurant Cotto

The rise and fall of Cotto (Image: Tina Tiller)
The rise and fall of Cotto (Image: Tina Tiller)

Summer reissue: The Auckland eatery closed its doors with no warning in late 2023, prompting concerned customers to ask the simple question: what went wrong? Stewart Sowman-Lund finds out.

The Spinoff needs to double the number of paying members we have to continue telling these kinds of stories. Please read our open letter and sign up to be a member today.

First published February 8, 2024.

There was no official announcement that Auckland restaurant Cotto had closed after five years. The hugely popular, and critically lauded, Karangahape Road pasta bar had been heading into the busy pre-Christmas period when its doors suddenly shut.

Speculation first started to spread on Facebook and Reddit, with concerned patrons questioning why their group bookings had been cancelled at such short notice. Then, a note was seen pinned to the outside of the restaurant blaming “unforeseen circumstances”, though the precise details of this were not made public. There was no indication if the closure would be permanent and it’s understood staff weren’t even aware the restaurant wouldn’t be opening when they turned up for work on November 21. A few days later, the locks were changed. 

As of today, the restaurant remains closed and The Spinoff has seen dozens of messages sent to Cotto’s Facebook page that have been only auto-responded to with a generic message. 

In early December 2023, The Spinoff published a report piecing together what was known about Cotto’s unexpected closure at the time. The restaurant’s owner Craig Anderson was also connected to other hospitality businesses that mysteriously closed in the same week, including Anthology Bar, Curfew and the since reopened Leigh Sawmill Cafe. 

The Spinoff has since spoken to 10 people linked to Cotto and these affiliated businesses. Some were only willing to speak on background, or on the condition of anonymity, and were mostly employed in the restaurant’s early years. They painted a picture of a tumultuous behind-the-scenes work environment, one at odds with Cotto’s successful and award-winning public image. At least one staff member said he was unable to speak about the situation for legal reasons.  

There are allegations of unpaid tips to staff, overdue bills, a confusing managerial structure and high staff turnover at Cotto. Former workers from other businesses linked to Anderson have made similar claims. Anderson told The Spinoff via text that he was “away” and so could not speak directly with us, but was “happy to help” with our inquiries and directed us to contact his Cotto email address. In a written statement, he confirmed that Cotto had closed, blaming the “unprecedented challenges faced by the hospitality industry over the last three years”. However, he did not address many of the The Spinoff’s questions. “We do not comment on purported comments by unattributed sources,” he said.

Several former staff expressed surprise that Cotto lasted as long as it did given the issues behind the scenes, many of which first presented in the restaurant’s early days. It was a “house of cards”, one said, and it could have come tumbling down at any moment. And on a Tuesday in November 2023, it did. 

It’s May 2017 and Cotto, a small pop-up pasta store, has opened within Karangahape Road’s Bar 69.

“Terrible name, I know,” said Jack, who did not want his last name used. He had been the venue’s general manager at the time. “The bar was basically getting driven into the ground… so we came up with the idea to do the pop-up,” he explained to The Spinoff last month. Highly regarded chefs Hayden Phiskie and John Pountney, who had been running the Refreshment Room in Titirangi at the time, had been brought in to launch the new venture. Pountney remained with Cotto until its closure, while Phiskie left after three years to launch the similarly acclaimed Ada in Grey Lynn, and later Bianca in Ellerslie.

“We knew that they were good chefs, they just weren’t getting the recognition that they deserved because they were so far out [of the city]. So we decided to have them in – they walked in and saw the space and loved the industrial look,” Jack said. “We decided then and there we’d do a two-week pop-up.” 

That “industrial” look meant exposed pipes on the ceiling, with dark metallic colours contrasting with the warmth of wooden tables, intimate booths, mood lighting. In the evenings, there was a perfect view of the sun setting over Auckland. “The space is warm and welcoming without being fussy,” is how a Cuisine review summarised it. In short: Cotto had a “vibe” that felt fancier than the price of the food suggested. 

Cotto’s industrial interior (Photo: Facebook)

The menu changed from day to day, offering the likes of fermented chips with feta and oregano, maltagliati with beef cheek ragu and gnocchi with kūmara. At the start, prices were surprisingly affordable, especially when compared with similar establishments – plates ranged from $5 to just $20.

Jack told The Spinoff it was clear from day one that Cotto was something special. “We opened with the idea of two [weeks] and then it went up and up and up and we decided it would be stupid to close,” he said. On the first night, the waitlist was nearly two hours long.

The pop-up was soon extended for three months and then until the end of 2017. Not long after, Bar 69 was gone completely, with Cotto taking over the whole space. Craig Anderson, who was Bar 69’s owner, became the owner of Cotto when it took over the venue. 

A Viva review by Jesse Mulligan in 2018 helped bolster awareness for the fledgling restaurant. “I think we were the first restaurant in a few years to get 19 out of 20 and from there it just never stopped. It was packed every night,” Jack said. 

It was actually an 18 out of 20, still a hugely commendable review. In it, Mulligan wrote about the “bad taste” that had been left after a previous visit to Bar 69. “I reviewed it so badly that I used to dread biking past the place each day, and it was a great relief when I saw that the kitchen had been closed down and taken over a few months later,” wrote Mulligan. 

Reflecting on this to The Spinoff, Mulligan described Cotto as a “rare” thing in hospitality. “A restaurant that was full from the word go, with everybody who ate there immediately telling everybody they knew to visit,” he said. “It was buzzy… at the time I reviewed it, the two biggest stars in the country [Lorde and Jacinda Ardern] had tables there the same week.”

The restaurant would go on to win Metro’s best new restaurant award. The year after, in 2019, it placed second in the best casual restaurant category. “We’ll happily take our spot on its waitlist for chefs Hayden Phiskie and John Pountney’s takes on fresh Italian pasta, which changes so often, their religious following on Instagram is no doubt born from wanting to see what they’ve come up with next,” Metro wrote. 

It wasn’t just a hit with critics either. One former staff member told The Spinoff that for a restaurant comparable in size to Cotto, bringing in $30,000 a week would be “really good”. According to two former workers, Cotto was making twice as much. “We’d turned it around dramatically,” one said, comparing Cotto with Bar 69. “We were doing revenue of $5,000 to $6,000 on a Wednesday night; before that they were doing like $200.”

Publicly, Cotto was a huge success. It was known as much for its food as it was for the long wait times for a table during peak hours. “Everything was going so well, we were on such a high and making everyone so much money… we were the talk of the town,” one former staff member told The Spinoff. 

But behind the scenes, former staff close to Cotto’s leadership have alleged an unpleasant work environment. “From the outside, it looked like the best place ever, like a really functional place,” one worker, who was there in Cotto’s early days, said. “On the inside, it was just mad. It would be so interesting when people would come in and think it was this wonderful place, which it was, but I was like ‘if only you could see the shambles’.” 

Red flags started to present “very early on”, said another former staffer. “We almost had our blinders on just because of how well the restaurant was doing.”

In the early days of the business, issues with tips not being shared among workers was the most consistent concern raised by former staff members. “We were in control of the cash tips so they were there with the staff on the night. But the electronic ones, a lot of it we didn’t see,” one told The Spinoff. 

As the issues persisted, they recall telling regular patrons not to tip unless they had physical cash. “It got to a point where I was like, ‘fuck it’. I would say don’t bother tipping us cause we won’t get it,” they said.

Other former workers, also at Cotto from the beginning, said there were times when cash for the till would disappear overnight from the safe. “That happened a lot,” one said. “We’d come in any given morning and there’d be no float for the day and so someone would have to walk down to the bank and try and get money out,” another said, adding that this would be “absolutely” unusual at any other hospitality business.

Anderson told The Spinoff that tips were paid “on a weekly basis and distributed by the general manager”. However, The Spinoff has seen an email sent to Anderson and the general manager, Ed Hurrell, complaining of a “lack of transparency and effort” in addressing unpaid tips. “We have been patiently inquiring about these tips for well over five months now,” read the email, sent in July 2020. For a restaurant as successful as Cotto, this would have amounted to “hundreds of dollars” for each front-of-house worker, The Spinoff was told. Hurrell declined to comment for this story. A Facebook message to a different manager raising similar concerns was also seen by The Spinoff. 

Two staff members recalled that money issues got “so bad” that on one weekend, workers decided not to turn up in protest. “Our entire staff did not come to work on I think a Friday and/or a Saturday night – our busiest nights of service – because we hadn’t been paid [our tips]. The restaurant was shut,” one worker said. It’s understood this happened less than two years after Cotto first launched. The Cotto team was small at the time, so there was no penalty for walking off the job, the worker said. But they’re not completely confident they received their tips as a result, either. “It was a fucking circus behind the scenes,” they said.

Anderson rejected this description of the business. “Things have not always worked like clockwork, however we do not agree with the characterisation that behind the scenes the business was a ‘circus’ or a ‘shambles’,” he said.

Those spoken to by The Spinoff described a confusing managerial structure at Cotto that didn’t help with resolving problems. Some couldn’t even explain who was meant to be in charge of whom. As owner, Anderson had no direct involvement with the day-to-day operation of the business but was often on the premises and operated, according to one worker, as Cotto’s “accountant”. 

Below him were managers, along with kitchen staff and front-of-house workers. Anderson, in responding to claims that the business was chaotic behind the scenes, told The Spinoff: “We engaged a very experienced general manager to effectively run the business and this contract was terminated in mid-November which was a factor in closing the business.” 

In the email raising concerns about unpaid tips, which was also sent to the general manager, the staff member complained of the issue being “passed around in circles with nobody taking initiative” and urged for somebody “to take [on] the responsibility” of sorting it. 

As a result, staff turnover was reportedly high and, according to one worker, the front-of-house staff would sometimes be forced to “take over the restaurant” for more senior staff members who just “didn’t come in for whatever reason”. Many of Cotto’s original team – such as co-founder Phiskie – had been and gone by the time Covid-19 hit in 2020.

It wasn’t just staff members being left out of pocket, it’s been alleged. There were issues with suppliers not being paid on time, sometimes resulting in ingredient shortages, The Spinoff was told. “[I’d] come to work and there would be no produce there,” one worker said. 

All of this contributed to what one staffer referred to as the “house of cards”, a phrase they recalled using during a meeting with Cotto management. “That was the way I put it: ‘You’re building a house of cards, it’s going to fall at some stage’,” the former staff member said. “I didn’t want to be right… I’m surprised it lasted this long.”

Having already been in charge of Bar 69 when it evolved into Cotto, staff said it wasn’t unusual that Anderson became owner of the new venture. “Because we were under the assumption it was going to be a pop-up, we didn’t really care,” one former staff member said. “We thought we’d be there for X amount of time and then it’ll all be over so he can have what he wants.”

Several staff members spoken to by The Spinoff referred to Anderson as “the money man”. They said his actual role with the business was confusing, given he didn’t have any role in the day-to-day operations but would spend a lot of time at Cotto, particularly in the evenings, and appeared to wield a significant amount of control – especially when it came to finances. “He had no decision-making on the business, but he was the accountant for the business… He owned the business outright, which was wild,” one worker said.

According to the Companies Register, Anderson is or has been a director and/or shareholder of 32 different companies. That includes Cotto Karangahape Road Ltd, which is classified in the Companies Register as the bar operations of Cotto, and Speakeasy Holdings Ltd, which is classified as the restaurant operations of Cotto. Other hospitality companies he remains a director of include those trading as Auckland bar Anthology, which was downstairs from Cotto and shut its doors at the same time, and nearby bars Thirsty Dog and Curfew, the latter of which was formerly Pitt Street Pub.

In July last year, the Inland Revenue Department applied for the liquidation of Speakeasy Holdings Ltd, which trades as the restaurant operations of Cotto. An application for liquidation is usually an indication that attempts to recover a debt have been unsuccessful. The hearing was expected to take place last September, but was adjourned until yesterday. It was since been delayed for a final time until next month, though Inland Revenue confirmed in the Auckland High Court that it is still proceeding with the liquidation claim.

Fresh pasta sheets at Cotto (Photo: Supplied)

Cotto wasn’t the only establishment linked to Anderson that closed abruptly last November. A former staff member of Curfew told The Spinoff that rumours of the venue’s impending closure circulated the entire time he worked there, which was only a few months. However, on the day the business was finally shuttered, in the same week as Cotto, staff were left in the dark as to why.

“The first week I started, staff were talking around me about not getting paid. I was like ‘holy shit, what have I signed up for’? My first paycheck was late by two or three days and I had to keep chasing [it],” they said.

The Spinoff has also seen texts sent from a worker at Anthology addressed to Anderson asking about unpaid wages from the weeks before the venue closed in November. “It’s been 16 days since my last payment… and unfortunately it’s now impacting my life,” one of the texts read. There was no response. The staffer said they never received their final paycheck. 

The Curfew worker said he was first alerted to the venue’s closure by a colleague over text. “Don’t bother coming in, the locks have been changed, no one has a job,” the message read. The staffer had never received a contract, meaning he never formally lost the job. “We had no warning,” he said.

Curfew was allegedly plagued with similar issues to Cotto. Suppliers weren’t being paid on time, the worker said, meaning drinks were often unavailable behind the bar. “There was no stock in the fridge, we were taking money out of the till to buy stock at liquor stores,” they claimed. “The right amount of cash in the safe for the gaming machines wasn’t there. I was eating the food [from the kitchen] cause we weren’t being paid on time, the right amount of food in the freezer wasn’t there to do substantial meal items for the after hours food service.” 

The staffer said they thought Anderson must be “pretty OK” given his business credentials. “He had eight businesses and he seemed pretty solid and knew what he was doing,” they said.

Anderson said he would not address questions related to “unattributed claims and commercially sensitive topics” saying it was best that they were handled privately. “Please be assured that we are managing these concerns responsibly and through the appropriate channels and are committed to resolving them responsibly and as quickly as possible,” he told The Spinoff.

Until the end of 2023, Anderson also ran the popular Leigh Sawmill Cafe north of Auckland, having leased it from the long-running venue’s owners five years ago. It also closed its doors suddenly in late November, though it reopened after Christmas. The lease was signed by Anderson in 2018 and was meant to be in place for a decade.

The Leigh Sawmill has since returned to the hands of previous managers Benjamin and Edward Guinness, sons of the venue’s founder Gratton Guinness, who died in 2018. In a post in a public Facebook group, one of the Guinness family shared that the business had returned to their family’s control “after years of mismanagement at the hands of a certain Auckland businessman”. 

Saffron Guinness, the granddaughter of Grattan Guinness, said that Anderson’s time in charge of the venue had ruined “a lot of the amazing work and name that the Sawmill had”. She told The Spinoff that Anderson “wasn’t paying rent for quite some time” which led to legal proceedings. “Basically the option was for him to surrender the lease and that’s what happened,” said Guinness. 

“He could have continued the lease and kept racking up rent and found someone else to come run it… or just surrender it and be not obliged to pay any further rent.”

Leigh Sawmill Cafe (Photo: RNZ)

For the Guinness family, the decision to take back control of the Sawmill was initially a difficult one. None of the family wanted to run the restaurant again, “particularly my uncles,” Guinness said. “They’ve done that their whole lives, and they didn’t want to do a hospitality business any more. They were pretty over it and had been even more burnt by this failing lease situation. But… the Sawmill makes its whole year’s worth of revenue in the summer, to pay for the bills through the winter, [so] they really had no choice but to just open the doors again.” 

However, the last few weeks had proven to be a positive experience, she said. The Sawmill’s reopening had been welcomed by locals. “We’ve had a couple of sold out gigs and the vibe and the energy in the place feels like how it was – but also better because we’ve been able to adapt the business,” Guinness said. “It felt almost like a relief because the ship would stop sinking and even though none of us wanted to come and run the restaurant again… the quickest way to get the doors open was just to rally a team ourselves.”

Anderson – who would not answer questions over unpaid rent – said he wished the best for the Leigh Sawmill Cafe, noting that it had returned to family ownership. “Living in the area and being part of the local community appears to be a necessary factor for this business,” he said, before citing the “significant challenges” of Covid restrictions and tourism during the pandemic.

While the Sawmill was able to reopen relatively soon after it closed, other businesses linked to Anderson remain shuttered. There is still no mention of Cotto’s closure on its website and Google shows the restaurant as being just “temporarily closed”. 

What exactly transpired on November 21, the day Cotto’s doors closed, is at this point still unknown. 

While those who spoke to The Spinoff expressed frustration at the way the business was operated, they remained hopeful it could return in the future. “I think with better management it would have lasted for years,” one former staff member said. “It’s sad, it was so cool.”

All spoke highly of the brand, the chefs and the vision of Cotto. “I loved it… I was so invested in it. That’s why this whole thing is so crazy,” one worker said. Another added: “It was our baby… we were all slaving away to make it popular and as good as possible.”

In recent days, Cotto has quietly hinted that it will be reopening in the near future. The notice on the restaurant’s door has been updated, promising that Cotto will be “back up and running shortly”. A statement co-signed by chef and co-founder John Pountney and general manager Ed Hurrell was also shared to the restaurant’s Instagram and on its Google page on January 31 – more than two months after it closed. In it, they apologised to customers who were “totally let down” by Cotto’s abrupt closure at the end of last year and hinted at the precise reasons for it. 

“What was shaping up to be a fantastic end to 2023 took an abrupt turn as the owner/investor failed to fulfill his financial obligations [sic]. This resulted in Cotto staff being locked out, suppliers not being paid, our staff not being paid and our inability to accommodate all of you,” read the statement. 

The Spinoff approached Icon Group, owners of the building in which Cotto was located, but received no response. The site’s landlord, prominent K Road property figure Murray Rose, said he had “no comment” to make.

The Cotto statement ended: “For all those missing their dumplings, focaccia, or pasta fix fear not. John, Ed, and the Cotto team have something in the pipeline, coming soon.”

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Summer reissue: Thirty years ago, Sandringham wasn’t known for Indian food at all. What will it look like in another three decades?

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It would be entirely possible to pass through Sandringham in a car or bus and not notice anything unique about the section of shops in this central Auckland suburb at all. The shop fronts are mostly unassuming, the footpath grey, the little park at the south end of the suburb quiet. 

But open the window, and you might be able to, quite literally, smell it. A milky waft of chai from a food truck. An aroma of cumin and chilli from people clutching warm takeaway containers. The fresh, green smell of piles of coriander outside a small grocery store. 

Another look at the street will reveal why: almost every restaurant, food truck and grocery store in the area is South Asian, selling everything from soft Sri Lankan string hoppers to bubbly-skinned bitter karela to halal meat to spheres of vada inside pillowy pav buns. One of the travel agents has transliterated its name into Hindi and Sinhala on its sign, and if you look north, you’ll spot the chunky, ridged dome of the Bharatiya Mandir, a Hindu temple, on Balmoral Road a few hundred metres away. 

Sandringham Road has become a hub for South Asian restaurants, grocery stores and food trucks. (Photo: Jin Fellet)

Samrudh Akuthota (known as Sammy), operator of Satya Chai Lounge, grew up around the restaurants on Sandringham Road: his parent’s restaurant, Satya, was one of the earliest Indian restaurants on the street when it opened in 1999. Satya now has a Ponsonby location, too, while the Chai Lounge counterpart has an outpost on Karangahape Road. 

“When Satya started, there were the Khyber Spice Traders across the road, a printing shop, a pharmacy, a brothel, two fish and chip shops, a hardware shop…” he lists chirpily; I’m not the first journalist to call him asking these kind of questions, and he’s well-prepared. As Akuthota got older, the street started to change: more and more South Asian restaurants popped up. Businesses changed hands, but the increasingly Indian flavour of the suburb was undeniable. 

Data from the 2018 census shows that 19% of people in Sandringham arrived in New Zealand in the last 15 years, and 45% of the suburb has Asian heritage, compared to 28.2% of the country at large. 10% of people spoke Hindi and 2% of people spoke Panjabi. The number of people who identify as Hindu increased from 16% in 2006 to 19% in 2009, while the number of people who said they followed Islam decreased from 7% to 5% over the same period. 


Meanwhile, the cost of houses in the area has skyrocketed, in keeping with the rest of Auckland: a table on Realestate.co.nz shows the median sale price of houses in the area increasing from $365k in 2014 to $1.171m in 2023 – lower than Grey Lynn ($460k to $1.148m over the same period) but much more than the nearby Avondale ($300k to $890k) which also has a relatively high percentage of people born in Asia and Hindi speakers.

“Friends from overseas come to visit and say, ‘It’s like you’re walking in India,’” Akuthota says. Instead of the abstract numbers of house prices – increases to which, he quickly points out, have been seen throughout the country – the changes to the suburb to him have felt more material. “In 2003, we once had a stolen scooter stashed in the dining room,” he says. Break-ins were frequent: customer’s habs and cash in the till were taken. 

Now, when Akuthota looks around the suburb, he sees a quite different demographic – and much less frequent thefts from businesses. The people living in the area “are the ones who can’t buy housing in Freemans Bay or something,” he says, a little wistful. 

So, what’s happening in Sandringham? Are the social and economic forces that made it a hub for South Asian food in the 1990s going to persist as commercial rents get higher and demographics change in the area? Will its Indian character survive?

Akuthota has witnessed the changes, but how did Sandringham become an undisputed hub for Indian food? He has one theory, offered a little uncertainly: “The temple is a huge institution, it’s an anchor point in the big city,” he says, suggesting that people come to the Bharatiya Mandir in Balmoral then pop to Sandringham, down the road. 

André Taber, a historian currently writing a book about the history of Chinese restaurants in New Zealand, says that the factors that led to Indian restaurants in Sandringham have something in common with Chinese restaurants on Dominion Road: immigration reform and cheaper, city-adjacent locations. 

When Taber developed a food-tour app for local community organisation Spice, he didn’t find “one solid story” explaining why Indians were drawn to the area. Khyber Spices, now gone, was one of the first Indian grocery stores that drew people to the area; an academic article from 2005 enthusiastically describes its dozens of varieties of basmati rice and roti, far more than available in most New Zealand supermarkets. Two halal butchers and the Valley Fruit and Vegetables store opened around the same time.

Indian restaurant Satya has become an institution. (Photo: Jin Fellet)

But contrary to what many would assume, Taber says that the first restaurant to open in 1990s Sandringham wasn’t Indian. The Doy Luang Thai restaurant opened in the 1990s, then the same site became the Fijian-Indian outlet Stans in 2001. After Stans closed, Auckland restaurant stalwart Satya – owned by Sammy Akuthota’s parents – opened on the street, where it remains. 

Another theory: one big outlet creates momentum that everyone else levers off. “I think Paradise started it,” says Paul, a genial taxi driver I meet in the line at vegetarian outlet Shubh on a Monday afternoon. He buys a bread pakora to share, filled with fluffy spiced potato. Since he moved to New Zealand, he’s pulled into Sandringham Road after countless night shifts to find something he wants to eat. “When you’re driving a taxi every day you want something to munch,” he grins, patting his paunch. 

“Paradise is so successful, everyone wants to copy it,” Paul says. “Monkey see, monkey do: we’ll start a restaurant in Sandringham.” 

Paradise is a Sandringham Road success story. (Photo: Jin Fellet)

Ah yes, Paradise: so popular there were once regular lines out the door and three outlets of the restaurant on Sandringham Road alone. With a storied history – including a split between the co-founders, who went on to form Hyderabadi buffet restaurant Barwarchi across the road – Paradise might be the first restaurant non-South Asian locals think of in Sandringham. “White people walk into Paradise and know that when they buy food it won’t be too spicy, it won’t be too crazy for them – it makes them come back,” says Mizba Mohammed, the restaurant’s operational manager.

Paradise put two of its outlets up for sale last year, and is no longer as visible in Sandringham as it once was, so is the business surviving? Mohammed assures me that all is well: they’ve opened an outlet in Saudi Arabia; run a food truck called Pista House around the corner from their main site in Sandringham; and recently opened a kebab and fried chicken shop in Mission Bay. 


“We were a small store at the start, and after good responses from customers enjoying our food, we expanded our business,” Mohammed says. When Paradise started, he says there was “potential in Sandringham,” but it seems to him that the restaurant has played “a big role” in encouraging more food outlets in the area. 

Part of Sandringham’s evolution into a food district has clearly followed this logic: restaurants have occupied different niches and had the space to serve regional Indian and Sri Lankan cuisines, attracting each other’s customers but also broadening the options for all who come to eat here. “Sandringham is where Indians go to eat,” says writer Perzen Patel, who sells curry pastes and runs food walks in Sandringham with her company Dolly Mumma. “There are many more options than the ‘Kiwi’ version of Indian food, the same 20 or 30 dishes at your regular Indian takeaway.” 

While food businesses have built on the momentum of each other’s success, Sandringham’s location has helped. The 2005 article looking at Sandringham in the context of migration notes its “relatively cheap housing”; it remains more affordable than nearby Kingsland or Mount Eden. Commercial rents are cheaper than CBD prices, but the area is still closer to town than areas of South Auckland with higher numbers of Indian migrants. 

Garry Patel, who runs the recently-opened Healthy Bites eatery, has perhaps the most outlandish theory of all: that Sandringham’s popularity with Indian outlets could have a linguistic cause. Sandringham sounds like Sandri-gram, and gram is an alternative spelling of gaon, the Hindi word for village. “The moment you hear ‘Sandringham’, you start thinking that it must be the Indian place,” he says. 

As with Malaysian restaurants in Wellington and Chinese restaurants on Dominion Road, immigration reform from 1987 helped create the circumstances for Sandringham’s flurry of South Asian food spots: running a hospitality business is an option for people who haven’t found other options for traditional employment. 

Indian restaurant Bawarchi. (Photo: Jin Fellet)

Part of the mystery of Sandringham, Perzen Patel thinks, is why it has the reputation as the Indian hub, when other areas have more Indians. “Mount Roskill is basically like a Little India,” she says. “And down the road from me in Takanini there are nine Indian stores, so if I can’t find what I want in one, I can always find it in the next.” Lots of Indians come to eat and shop in Sandringham, it’s true, but there are Indian grocery stores dotted around Auckland. It sometimes seems to her that non-Indian New Zealanders have chosen to understand just one area of the city as being visibly Indian, instead of seeing the diversity nested within many suburbs. 

People on Patel’s tours are always delighted to discover how cheap lentils and spices are in Sandringham stores, and when Bollywood music comes through the speakers, she beams when she sees them trying to resist dancing. She’d love to see more “ethnic” grocery stores working to feel welcoming to people who are less familiar with the cuisine. In ten years, maybe Sandringham will host more creative combinations of South Asian cuisines, more than anyone can imagine on their own.

Sandringham’s reputation as a South Asian hub is clearly enduring, as the 2005 article shows: businesses it mentions in the article, like a Muslim clothing store and Pacific church in an old cinema, are gone, but the sense that Sandringham is Indian has remained. “There are always businesses closing down, but also new businesses are also coming,” says Nithya Suresh, who runs the SS Supermarket focused on South Indian groceries. 

While the restaurants are often the most obvious place to get Indian meals in Sandringham, the grocery stores might actually be responsible for more eating. “People might go to an Indian restaurant and think ‘that’s nice, let me try it at home’, walk out the door and there are grocery stores selling those ingredients,” says Paradise’s Mohammed. 

One of those grocery store’s is Suresh’s SS Supermarket; with her husband, she also runs the Madras Cafe next door. It’s mango season when I walk in, and there are crates of kesar and banganapalli mangoes cushioned in foam netting. From the bottles of coconut oil – for hair – on the shelves, labelled with prices in rupees, to the faint buzz of the fluorescent lighting, I feel almost instantly nostalgic for the grocery stores of my childhood in India. 

After nearly two decades, Suresh has loyal customers around the country, who particularly come for South Indian ingredients harder to find at most North-India geared stores. People who have moved to Hamilton, Wellington or Napier will call her ahead when they’re in Auckland for a visit, asking her to set aside items they need. She serves a customer who contemplates a mango then buys a vada he pays for with coins, then keeps talking to me. 


“Nowadays people of all ethnicities love our Indian food,” Suresh says. She has customers bring in shopping lists from a recipe they’ve seen on a YouTube video or blog. North Indian food is “a lot more greasy”, so she prefers cooking South Indian dishes, often based on sweet-sour tamarind paste .. 

While her store has a wide variety of products, there’s food from the place she grew up that she still can’t get her hands on. “We can’t bring in the local food – like the food you get in the village, made with fermentation.” Sometimes her idli batter doesn’t rise to proper amounts of fluffiness in New Zealand’s cold weather, becoming filled with fungus instead. 

As well as the grocery stores, Sandringham has recently seen a flourishing of food trucks, mostly focused on South Asian street food. This is in the spirit of how people eat in India: dhabas, stalls that can be as little as a wall and some tarpaulins, serve fast-to-make, fast-to-eat food like fried noodles and frothy chai besides highways throughout the country. 

While Chai Wala Bhai makes vats of creamy tea and sells omelettes dotted with green chutney, and Paradise’s Pista House sells bowls of Hyderabadi haleem stew and biscuits to eat with chai just opposite, there’s a slightly different take on food trucks just down the road at Eat Love Repeat. When I drop by on a rainy Tuesday evening, Chef Balakrishna and his coworker are making burger patties, sprinkling them with a combination of spices (they won’t reveal exactly which ones). The location in the corner of a grassy lot, away from the main section of shops, requires some awkward teetering on a rock wall to get to the window, but they’re happy to chat. 

Spice Magic restaurant focuses on Sri Lankan food. (Photo: Jin Fellet)

Food trucks have allowed more diverse kinds of South Asian cuisine into Sandringham, Balakrishna reckons: “These are desi-style burgers – it’s our best offering for the customers,” he says. He likes that the food is a little scrappier, more homemade: the spices in the burger patties are the same ones he’d use in his cooking at home. 

There’s also a price factor: food trucks are a lower cost of entry than a commercial lease. “People are more comfortable in these places, they will compare the price to their pocket,” Balakrishna says. The food is certainly cheap: there’s not much on the menu over $15. Balakrishna assures me that Eat Love Repeat is expanding rapidly, with another food truck in Avondale and others on the way. 

“People come from Hamilton even to eat our burgers,” Balakrishna says. “I think there’ll be lots more food trucks in future here.” 

Even if almost all the current Sandringham Road business owners I speak to are optimistic, the South Asia flavour of the area isn’t guaranteed for the future. After all, things have changed before. 

Thirty years ago, Sandringham wasn’t known as a location for Indian food at all – and a century ago, there was no evidence whatsoever of it even being a restaurant district.  “Oh, the Norwegians,” exclaims Taber, the food historian, when I talk to him on the phone, rifling through his notes: Anders Eriksen, a Norwegian migrant, ran a general store at the current site of the Sandringham Superette from 1911. The current Smart Deal Bazaar was a Self Help supermarket in the 1960s. There were Chinese and Pacific grocery stores, a cinema, a fish and chip shop run by Dalmation migrants, butchers and greengrocers. 

Right now, it seems like the face of Sandringham is changing again: until recently, the shops now hosted an outlet of the upscale chocolate and ice cream manufacturer Miann. It’s now been replaced by Manna Delights, also selling fancy desserts – although flavours like pistachio and mango feature, closer to Indian ice creams. Lord Kitchener, a pub around the corner with craft beer on tap has a menu featuring tacos, Greek salad, fish and chips, pizza and beef burgers – the only faintly South Asian element of the food on offer is a vindaloo mayonnaise, which comes with the curly fries. 

Fancy ice cream stores are harbingers of gentrification. (Photo: Jin Fellet)

“I went [to Miann] and saw that one scoop of icecream is sold for $9 dollars! That’s not for Sandringham, that’s not an affordable price,” says Nithya Suresh, the grocery store owner. But she’s been here since 2005, and isn’t fazed. Sandringham “definitely will change” she says, and welcomes a more “multicultural” suburb for a more diverse business ecosystem. 

While shopkeepers and restaurateurs are mostly positive, they acknowledge it can be difficult to keep running their businesses. “It’s been hard since last year,” says Azeem Mohammed, of Bawarchi. “People are afraid to spend money outside [their homes], and there keeps being news that the economy is bad.” I reported this story over multiple visits to Sandringham in the afternoons and early evenings; many of the restaurants were empty, or near-empty, when I visited, although there were steady numbers of customers in the grocery stores. 

Viji Sivanadhani, a short and energetic woman who runs the Spice Magic restaurant focusing on Sri Lankan food, said their business has been hit by rapidly increasing food prices for products like cooking spray. And while Paradise’s Mizba Mohammed seems sanguine about the restaurant’s closed outlets in Sandringham and Botany, citing staff shortages, it’s notable that the new venture for the shop is fried chicken rather than their traditionally successful biryani and naan. 

There are signs Indian food is being edged out of Sandringham Road. (Photo: Jin Fellet)

While change might be inevitable, local businesses have ideas about what could help them. Garry Patel – who incidentally also runs a car repair business in New Lynn, and has repurposed car tires as remarkably comfortable seating for his restaurant Healthy Bites – reckons the area needs more car parking. Lots of available on-street parking is used by employees driving from Avondale, Mount Roskill and Epsom to work. Barwarchi’s Azeem Mohammed is pleased that the Sandringham Business Association is making an effort to improve lighting in the area and create some murals. 


Sammy Akuthota, a proud “city rat”, thinks that one of the best ways to protect Sandrinham’s unique qualities would be to build upwards. “I love density,” he says: denser housing would mean more people living in the area, potentially cheaper housing and commercial rents, and more nearby customers for local businesses. He’s suggested other ideas, including to the city council, like trying to brand the suburb as “Little India” – and to do the same for Dominion Road as “Chinatown” and the Korean hubs around Northcote as “Koreatown.” “But things change and evolve, these places can’t exist forever,” he says thoughtfully. “You can’t just brand an area when housing is changing so much.” 

Newer Indian immigrants often live in South Auckland, not Sandringham. There are two mandirs (Hindu temples) in central Manukau, and a dozen Indian food outlets in the area. Sandringham could become a secondary location for businesses thriving in South Auckland, instead of the other way round. In fact, this is already happening: Spice Magic, the Sri Lankan restaurant where Sivanadhani insists on making me a frilly onion dosa, started in Pakuranga 20 years ago. 

Spice Magic has been hit by rapidly increasing food prices. (Photo: Jin Fellet)

The Sandringham store, with newspapers in Sinhalaand young employees wearing cool sneakers, only opened last year. “We’re not so unique any more,” Sivanahani says, thinking about other Sri Lankan restaurants in the area. Sri Lankans have come to the store, Sivanadhani says, but one particular customer, a white woman, has been spreading the word in the local community and sharing their Instagram posts, attracting new customers. “We don’t advertise anything, people just come,” she says.


As I do interviews up and down the street, I see several visions of Sandringham’s future unfold. In one, the suburb’s Indian flavour was a fluke of luck, created by a confluence of factors that will never again be repeated. The South Asian visibility of the suburb will gradually fade over the next few decades, as the suburb’s relatively central location becomes increasingly desirable. 

Demographers predict that Auckland could add as much as 700,000 people to its population by 2038; maybe this growth will mostly be outwards, blocks of houses nibbling at the city’s northern and southern edges, while central suburbs become the domain of the very wealthy, more interested in glossy upscale eateries than Indian grocery stores and stalwart local food trucks. 

In another of my visions, the Chicking fried chicken outlet on Kitchener Road and Paradise’s new expertise in that same dish will be a harbinger of a greater variety of cuisines in Sandringham, dotted among the changing combinations of South Asian restaurants as businesses close then open in new forms. 

Or maybe the food trucks will encourage more people to develop commercial property in the area, creating a bigger shopping district with a wider variety of food. Suresh might be able to find the “village food” she misses from her childhood in South India; perhaps Sunil and Paul’s next debate about where to find Nepali food in Auckland will feature Sandringham locations, not only Parnell, Takapuna and New Lynn. 

The staff at Spice Magic. (Photo: Jin Fellet)

Alternatively, Eat Love Repeat’s smashed burgers with desi spices and Satya Chai Lounge’s combination of Indian dhaba fare and an astonishing selection of craft beers are the beginning of a Sandringham food culture that takes popular elements of Indian food and combines it with other cuisines. There’s a long tradition of Indian and Chinese food combining in northern India, but what about currizza? Smoky bitter-bright karela served alongside vegetables tender out of the hangi? 

In all versions of the future, it’s difficult to imagine Sandringham without jugaad, a Hindi word meaning resourceful, imaginative shortcuts, a more playful parallel to New Zealand’s buttoned up “number eight wire” attitude. Akuthota’s use of sacks and beer pallets as a cheap, stylish fit-out of the Satya Chai Lounge demonstrates jugaad. So does Garry Patel’s use of tyres from his car business in his food business, a sign at the front of Healthy Bites proclaiming the “exciting seating at back side”, even if the space is oddly laid out due to its past life as a grocery store. 

Perhaps the best jugaad I saw in Sandringham, and the one that filled me with the most confidence in the future of the street, was at Sivanadhani’s Spice Magic. Last year, the restaurant was a chaat house selling Mumbai-style street-food, complete with wall decals of glistening jalebis, people covered in Holi powder or taking photos of Instagram perfect bhel puri. Instead of changing the mural, she just added Sri Lanka themed stickers on top: both a cost-efficient repurposing and a creative way to acknowledge that all new food builds on what has come before. 

This feature was made with the support of Asia New Zealand Foundation. First published July 8, 2024.