[As published in Summer 2025/26 BayBuzz magazine.]

What makes Heretaunga hotspot Cellar 495 tick?

I’ve arrived at Cellar 495 in what Michael has just explained is the start of a shoulder period. It’s that unfortunate time of day when you’re too late for lunch – unless you worked in advertising during the 90s, and too early for dinner. Unless you worked in advertising during the 90s. 

I could have sworn there was an ex-suit from Saatchi at a corner table when I arrived, but I may have been mistaken. The point being, 495 wasn’t at all empty at half past two-ish on a Tuesday. That’s saying something these days. Quite a bit actually. 

Michael Henley, founded 495 in Heretaunga St a little over three years ago. It was a real world channel to complement his online wine subscription business. I’m very impressed with people who are disciplined enough to wait for their wine to be delivered. My relationship with the grape tended to be more immediate.

495 is a wine and food experience. Michael’s shoulder period focus is part strategy, part necessity. “Get 30 people in here and we’re full,” says Michael. So growth comes from the quiet times. The shoulders. That means filling Tuesday, Wednesday night as often as possible. Tonight, a Tuesday, there’s a local winemaker coming. Stories will be told. Laughs spilled.

Size brings a safety net. 495 can comfortably do thirty people with three working the room. The team is Michael pouring up a storm, Carlita’s in the engine room, and Victoria is out front and centre. Doing thirty people in a sixty seater restaurant is a different game entirely.

I miss talking to Victoria on both visits. She’s certainly got lots of firm fans out there. All talk consistently about how she welcomes you. How she makes you feel at home. To be fair I thought Michael did a good job, but now I feel slightly robbed.

As an experience, the three musketeers have created a part restaurant, part tasting bar, part wine shop. It’s something that could be a bloody shambles in the wrong hands. Fortunately Victoria, Carlita and Michael share the rare light touch.

Michael is also a Master of Wine. There’s only ever been 494 others anywhere in the world.

But don’t let that intimidate you. He searches for wines with an interesting story to share. Customers can confidently know that Michael will have one of those close at hand to accompany the pour. “More often than not it’s – ‘just get me a nice red’,” he explains.

“And so that’s what we do,” says Michael. “We bring a nice red. A nice big cuddly teddy bear of a red.” See? Stories. They don’t all have to be long ones. 

“I wanted it to be a place where everyone knows everyone,” he says, unwittingly channelling the TV show ‘Cheers’. “I wanted it to feel like hanging out in my living room,” he adds.

The original concept came from winery cellar doors, something Michael knows quite a bit about. He worked for Craggy Range in Auckland and Hawke’s Bay and for three years was based in London as their European sales manager. If you include a five year stint running Trinity Hill, it’s a fair bet that he knows more than most of us about cellar doors. 

The only thing I really know about cellar doors, is that most charge full retail, when they should probably offer a small discount, since there’s no distribution costs and no retail mark-up, but I can’t imagine winning that argument anytime soon.

495 has given Michael the opportunity to support smaller winemakers who don’t have a cellar door. So it’s a win-win, as the best things often are, and ensures that Michael always has something unique to pour you, along with a story or two to share. 

If you’re naturally curious you’ll be right at home here. 495 is disarming. There’s much to explore. And learn. Cuisine magazine thought the experience was worth making a bit of fuss about, recently awarding them a ‘hat’ in their Good Food Awards. A ‘hat’ is a technical hospitality term meaning ‘bloody outstanding, hurry up and go there immediately’.

A casual comment to a local chiropractor put Michael in touch with Chef Carlita Campbell. It’s clearly a brilliant pairing. She’s whipping up a batch of creme brûlée as we speak, a dish that she made for 495’s first service. “It’ll be on the last menu too,” says Carlita with a reassuring confidence.

Carlita came from a hospo family, her English and Scottish grandparents opened an Asian restaurant in Nelson. “They saw an opportunity,” she explains.

Food and opportunity seem to be inexplicably linked in Carlita’s world. She’s travelled the globe entering cooking competitions and has cooked all over the planet, settling in Napier six years ago. “It’s the longest I’ve spent anywhere for ages,” says Carlita, but struggles a little to articulate why. “Must be something though,” she adds after a pause. 

Indeed. Not every question needs answering.

She pushes back slightly when I ask what makes them different. “I’m not sure we are that different,” she tells me somewhat surprisingly. “We complement the other businesses in Hastings,” she adds. Community is strong at 495.

Thinking a bit as she adds a heart attack of cream to the milk in the pot and stirring gently, Carlita thin slices my question more, “It’s nice to have a point of difference though,” she says. “I think it’s because we have such a small team, it’s easier to be consistent.” 

Which couldn’t be any more true. There’s no danger of too many cooks in the kitchen since they’d simply never fit. “Every meal is cooked by me,” says Carlita “and there’s not many times when Michael isn’t out front.” 

It’s a perfectly logical reason, and although unrehearsed, rolls off Carlita’s tongue effortlessly. “Consistency. That’s why McDonalds is so successful. Every cheeseburger tastes the same.”

Huh? I’ve known a few chefs, but not one has ever compared their own work with the fast food giant. Usually it’s quite the opposite, but Carlita is generous. And strategic. You can’t argue with her point either.

In a chef, generosity of spirit turns up on a plate sooner or later. It says so in the rules. In Carlita’s case she’s quite happy to share the creme brûlée secret, when I mention the runny consistency of the liquid she’s pouring into serving bowls to bake. 

For some reason I expected it to be more custardy. “That’s the trick” said Carlita. “Don’t cook it too much, in fact hardly at all. Just warm the liquid and it’ll cook in the oven.”

See? Don’t cook. Less is more