MEET YOUR
Ian Harrison’s rapt to have opened a restaurant all his own, and everyone’s invited. Just don’t call it fine dining though, okay?
WORDS HAYLEY BARNETT / PHOTOS ERIN CAVE
As I enter The Grocer through the kitchen, the first thing Ian Harrison does is apologise for swearing. The second thing he does is swear again.
He’s standing in the middle of his new restaurant's kitchen on Tauranga’s Strand, talking about duck fat and why he hates the term ‘fine dining’. He’s also prepping plates of confit duck, mushroom gnocchi and crispy chicken, all updated versions of dishes from his revamped menu.
“This isn’t fine dining,” he says, gesturing toward a duck salad layered with beetroot, orange and walnuts. “If it was fine dining, the orange would be a jelly, there’d be micro herbs everywhere and the sauce would be some over-reduced, complicated bullshit.”
He looks at me, warily.
“I just want to cook really good food.”
For people in Tauranga, Ian Harrison hardly needs an introduction. Over the past decade, he’s become one of the city’s defining hospitality figures. He’s helped shape restaurants including Sugo, Clarence, Alpino and Florence. Ask around local food circles and his name comes up quickly, usually alongside words like ‘perfectionist’, ‘obsessive’ and ‘brilliant’
– sometimes all three.
The Grocer is different because, for the first time, it’s entirely his. After years spent building other people’s visions, this is the place where he finally gets to cook exactly what he wants.
It’s only a few months old, yet Ian has already reworked the menu, tweaking dishes, refining portions and adjusting it based on what people have responded to. Winter is pushing things further toward hearty British gastropub territory, with slow braises, rich sauces, duck fat potatoes, steak and Sunday roasts. Summer, he says, will pull everything back toward lighter seafood and vegetables.
“It’s probably more Pommie than anything,” he laughs. “But then there’s Asian influence, Kiwi influence, Māori influence. If I feel like putting a curry on later in the year, I’ll put a curry on.”
Ian talks about food the way some people talk about architecture or music. He doesn’t like trends, but he does like details.
“If we do eggs benedict here, I want it to be the best eggs benedict someone’s had,” he says. “Not because we’re trying to be fancy – just because we’ve thought about it more.”
Ian’s mentality was moulded long before he arrived in Tauranga. He grew up in England and spent years cooking his way through Europe. He worked in Michelin-starred kitchens where precision ruled everything. He cooked at three Australian Grand Prix without seeing much more than the inside of a kitchen. Eventually, exhausted by the intensity of hospitality, he decided he wanted out altogether.
He planned an enormous trip from Papua New Guinea to London, using boats and buses, working and diving along the way, but after arriving in Auckland in 2011, he stayed.
“I remember thinking, ‘I’m not doing those chef hours anymore’,” he says, “so I went front-of-house instead – because I’m good with people, I can talk.”
His talent earned him hospitality awards and briefly pulled him away from the kitchen entirely. Then he met Krystal, now his wife, and eventually followed life south to Tauranga. Now they have two daughters, Hine Ao Manawanui and Māia, who have become the centre of everything.
“I probably would have left hospitality completely if this place didn’t happen,” he admits. “It was kind of now or never.”
The Grocer occupies a historic building on The Strand that once housed a grocer’s store, among other things, and Ian liked the idea immediately. He wanted to recreate a neighbourhood place filled with essentials, like preserves, sauces, wine, good bread, conversation. He’s already begun bottling house-made condiments to sell, including tomato ketchup, duck fat and preserves made from ingredients used in the kitchen.
“I like the idea that people can take a little bit of the place home with them,” he says.
The restaurant itself feels warm. There are candles at night, heavy plates, proper portions and staff encouraged to read tables rather than recite scripts.
Ian talks as passionately about service as he does food.
“I wanted adults,” he says of his team. “People with personality. People who can actually read the room.”
He speaks openly about the realities of hospitality too, especially in Tauranga, where rising costs and cautious spending have made survival increasingly difficult for restaurants. He jokes about seeing himself less as a restaurateur and more as a “drug dealer”, trying to get customers hooked on the experience before they drift elsewhere. But behind the humour is very real pressure.
“This winter’s going to be rough for a lot of places,” he says. “You’ll see casualties.”
Ian remains optimistic, partly because he believes Tauranga’s dining culture is changing. He intentionally chose this location before major developments around the waterfront are completed, because he still believes people want genuine hospitality.
That’s also why he’s resisting labels like ‘fine dining’, despite his background. He says he doesn’t want hats or awards. “I don’t care about being a celebrity chef – I really don’t.”
Ironically, Tauranga already treats him like one. Customers regularly stop to talk to him. Diners specifically ask whether he’s cooking that night. His social media videos pull strong engagement, despite the fact he openly admits he hates spending time on his phone.
“I’d rather be home with my wife and kids, having a wine, than sitting on Instagram.”
That said, he understands modern hospitality requires visibility, and so he appears in videos; talks to media, like me; and promotes the restaurant, even if reluctantly.
“No one sells the place better than I do,” he says with a shrug.
Really, all The Grocer’s aiming for is good food, generous hospitality and enough warmth to make people want to stay awhile. And while Tauranga’s still figuring out exactly what its dining culture can become, that might be exactly the right recipe.