Nikki Wallman
Queenstown is hardly short of beauty. Or luxury lodgings, cosily contrasting the mountainous majesty surrounding them (the landscape here is still threaded with fine gold; in the right light, you’d swear it’s shimmering in the air as well). Nor is it lacking in opportunities for adventure by water, air or land; or thrillingly of-the-place dining, harnessing the best of the encircling mountains, fields and waters.
And yet – and yet. Roki Collection Queenstown landed in plum position overlooking Lake Wakatipu in September 2025, compelling and clear and precise in its vision — so compelling that restaurant Essence was recognised as New Zealand’s first-ever two-Michelin-starred restaurant in June 2026. Like a knife tapping gently on fine crystal glass, it feels like a quietly confident pronouncement that the next step in Queenstown’s world-class travel scene is here.
She’s a beauty, and the best of both worlds: luxury lodge meets ski-town buzz, the hotel itself impeccably conceived as a contemplative retreat offering everything from fine dining (director of culinary Paul Froggatt worked through a constellation of Michelin-starred restaurants before landing at Huka Lodge, Kauri Cliffs, and now Roki) to spa treatments so releasing, I left mine feeling utterly discombobulated before a bone-deep sense of calm took hold. Running from one-bedroom suites to two-, three- and four-bedroom digs, plus a palatial seven-bedder taking up the entire top floor, every element – down to the bespoke house scent – is geared to enabling guests to breathe in the surrounds as deeply as possible.
For Roki – which means “tranquil” in Te Reo Māori – the Australian owners tapped interiors maestro Virginia Fisher (whose previous work includes Huka Lodge and Rosewood Matakauri) to weave a modern, yet ultimately timeless sense of luxury throughout the 15-suite property. Mine is sweeping, plush and pale-hued, with a large walk-in closet, oasis-like tiled bathroom where every detail is thought of. Case in point: hand-towel racks exactly where they should be, and toiletries by New Zealand brand Sans [ceuticals].
Home-baked cookies appear in my room one morning; evening brings an in-room sleep ritual, including a “liquid chill pill” of magnesium spray, and an “Ocean Healing” bath soak of rosemary, eucalyptus, sea fennel and sandalwood. Even the fireplaces in the rooms were carefully selected to be silent. The overall sense is immediate, shoulder-dropping serenity, followed by a gentle reawakening of one’s senses, given the space and quiet to expand like a deep stretch after a nap.
Come cocktail hour, I emerge from my cocoon to join the glass-clinking sociability of the lounge. The space leads to The Terrace, an indoor/outdoor dining area with a menu including caviar bumps, wagyu burgers and lobster rolls, all set against the that shimmering lake and its encircling mountains.
In the equally shimmering Library Bar, house guests gather for evening canapés and cocktails are shaken as the fireplace crackles in the background. The restaurant is also open to the public, and walk-ins are welcome.
Froggatt tells me Roki is his “dream” after years spent in the United Kingdom, France, Hong Kong and Singapore. The British-born chef’s near-decade-long stint at Huka Lodge yielded a realisation: he just wasn’t a city person. “I like being near the water,” he smiles. “The adventure I was looking for by changing jobs and moving…I could get that adventure by fly-fishing.”
Now, he’s got free rein to dig into the deep well of technique honed in his early years and express it in ways both playful and personal. Behold, a glossy “cherry” filled with chicken liver parfait at Michelin-starred restaurant Essence; and Paul’s Fried Chicken – PFC – served at The Terrace, seasoned to perfection with a salty, perfect crunch; best enjoyed with a glass of Ruinart. His Autumn Walk in Roki’s fine-dining restaurant Essence is a thing of ethereal yet earthly beauty, inspired by a stroll through the woods with his son: peeled and candied walnuts; raw, marinated and pickled mushrooms; the sweetness of fallen apples, and “leaves” made of celeriac, pumpkin and Jerusalem artichoke – gossamer slivers that crack lightly on the tongue. Froggatt even hand-harvested grass from nearby mountains for the beautiful glass dishes it’s served on.
Other standouts include a wild-caught Fjordland venison take on a Japanese sando – tender, pure meatiness wrapped in chicken mousse and sourdough, pooled with pickled cherry jus – and broken rice with a frothy egg yolk sauce; caviar-crowned, comforting and luxurious all at once. It’s a heavenly mash-up of European techniques, fired by his time in Asia and anchored by the relationships forged with close-radius producers while at local luxury lodges.
Head sommelier Erick Tuesta – who has previously worked with James Viles at Sydney’s Park Hyatt – is adept at lacing story with terroir, and his tasting menu pairings showcase both classic Central Otago wines and less obvious offerings from further afield. An aromatic Pyramid Valley orange – not my usual go-to – is a revelation, while a Peregrine chardonnay pairs like a dream with outstanding bread and butter.
Where Roki sets itself apart is its dedication to creating a spoiling yet grounded sanctuary where guests want for nothing – house Rolls-Royce Cullinan transfers, a ski concierge on call; womb-like, sandstone-columned Roman bath-inspired spa – and then handing them the keys to unlock the natural playground outside. It’s a fresh-feeling luxury with a freeing lightness of spirit.
One morning we swoop, chopper-borne, over Lake Wakatipu, tracing braided ribbons of milky-jade water towards the mountains of Fiordland National Park before landing on a glacier: pristine-aired and devoid of another soul. Next, we tumble out onto golden and rust-tussocked grasses at the site of Rees Valley by Roki, an off-grid offering where guests can sate their outdoor appetites with a chef-prepared meal in the pristine wild. A couple of hours later, we’re winding along a drop-jaw gorge to sample cracking rosé and pinot noir at Chard Farm, a Tuscan-evocative cellar door and hitting bijou Brennan Wines, which lays claim to the southernmost Zinfandel in the world, best sampled over a round of pétanque. When I return, happily knackered, to my suite, the fire is roaring, cookies restocked; doona turned back, a handwritten note, kettle filled for night-time tea.
Months later, back in Queenstown for our wedding anniversary, I can’t help but return with my husband for PFC and a glass of Ruinart. The place already feels part of this gold-threaded landscape.
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