Crocodile rock
‘Ya gotta be sneaky boy’ ‘You can’t just run up on them and expect them to sit and wait for … Continue reading Crocodile rock
A site about Tasmania and its food, built by a Tasmanian chef. I was raised by a traditional forager, a man who knew how to survive and thrive without supermarkets. I have been told I am somewhat of an educated bogan, and I tend to agree. I hope you enjoy my flavours and find something that pleases you and your taste buds.
‘Ya gotta be sneaky boy’ ‘You can’t just run up on them and expect them to sit and wait for … Continue reading Crocodile rock
Big Bruno, the bull of an island. Only a little island, on a big river, on another sorta little island. … Continue reading Bruno the bull. A story of Tasmanian beef.
I got scolded a couple of times after my dad went to make his toast himself, and all that was left in the jar was orange rind. Continue reading Marmalade: Spread that s%t all over boy.
How nice is a warm, hot chocolate brew once you have returned home from splitting wood or fishing on a shitty Tasmanian winter day? Continue reading Milo of Croton
A French chef Guillaume Tirel was the first one to prescribe the process, describing its preparation in his manuscript ‘Le … Continue reading Sweet short crust
Treat it kind of like the first date. Although you really want to just jump in and get on with it, it is always best to gently go through the motions to achieve the best outcomes. Continue reading Chocolate sponge cake
Fumet, or fish stock, is a great way to use up your fish scraps and bones in order to enhance … Continue reading Fumet
The earliest history of nougat dates back to 10th century Baghdad. Typically, and traditionally containing nuts, countless variations have bestowed … Continue reading Malt chocolate nougat
Making coffee was my first real hospo gig. 3 days out the front, on coffee, and two days out the … Continue reading Coffee: The drug that fuels the world
A lovely warming spring day in Tasmania that nicely baked the essence of lamb shit all through our classic old purple Valiant was enough to send my father into a very rare rant of expletives. Continue reading Peasant food