The trick is to go during breakfast.
On a typical day, the lines at Ferg’s stretch then curl around themselves like serpents in heat. A sprawling mess of human bodies, from lunch till dinner and onwards till the wee hours of morning when tourists return from drinking games. (There seems only to be tourists and those who make money from them in Queenstown.)
Why do we wait and queue? Some would determine which restaurant to eat at, which store to shop at, by the length of the lines outside. I remember my Japanese friends Nao and Satomi telling me this is just a fact of life where they come from. But now it’s everywhere.
Better queues than a rampage, however. Let’s be thankful for small mercies. There are places where the rampages are the norm. Facts of life aren’t always the same everywhere. Perhaps that’s why we travel, to witness this first hand.
Though the burger haven is open 21 hours a day, there is a lull during the early morning hours when would-be customers are still nursing hangovers or off on before-the-crack-of-dawn type adventures. Perfect time to hit it for some Sweet Bambi.
If the name sounds a bit lewd, don’t get too excited. Not unless you’re the sort who gets aroused by venison. (Hey, no judgement here. It takes all kinds.)
A grilled patty of Wild Fiordland deer with a Thai plum chutney, lettuce, tomato, red onions and alioli. Tasted great, if a bit heavy for brekkie. Beats having to wait in a murderously long queue, I say. You nod, busy with your burger.
It’s called Little Lamby. Of course it is.