We're championing fresh food that packs a flavour punch, from salads and vegetable-packed bowls to grains and light desserts.
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We asked our favourite confectioners and cafe owners from around the country for their hottest tips.
Sydneysiders revive a landmark restaurant in country New South Wales.
You’ve got another chance at last winter’s sell-out drop from Four Pillars.
A bar for art’s sake pops up at Semi Permanent.
Attica chef Ben Shewry has been thinking about your buttocks, and wants to introduce them to an Australian design classic.
Charleston, the antebellum jewel of the Carolina coast, has embraced its Lowcountry roots, writes Shane Mitchell, and now shines anew.
Our June issue is out now, and it's all about breakfast. Pat Nourse kicks things off with his editor's letter.
Here we've scorched apricots on the grill and served them with torn jamon, shaved Manchego and peppery rocket leaves. Think of it as a twist on the good old melon-prosciutto routine. The mixture would also be great served on charred sourdough.
Farro can be used in almost any dish, from a robust salad to accompany hearty beer-glazed beef short ribs to a new take on risotto with mushrooms, leek and parmesan. Here are 14 ways with this versatile grain.
This year's finalists across 11 different categories include established and new hotels, all with particular areas of excellence. Stay tuned to find out which hotels will take the top spots when they're announced at a ceremony at QT Melbourne on Wednesday 24 May, and published in our 2017 Australian Hotel Guide, on sale Thursday 25 May.
Where would Spanish cuisine be without the chorizo? This versatile smallgood lends its big flavours to South American stews, soups, and salads, not to mention the ultimate hot dog. Let the sizzling begin.
Kick off winter with a week of cheese tasting.
Our guide to the best of the region.
There's nothing new about Nordic interiors - blond timbers, concrete surfaces, warm, mid-century charm without the twee - and thank heavens for that. It's a style that augments the beauty of everything around it, in this case, gorgeous Hobart harbour, which makes up one whole wall. What is new here, however, is the food - by veterans of Garagistes, which once dazzled diners down the road, Vue de Monde in Melbourne and Gordon Ramsay worldwide. There's a strong Asian bent, but with Tasmanian ingredients. In fact, the kitchen's love of the local verges on obsessive - coconut milk in an aromatic fish curry is replaced with Tasmanian-grown fig leaf simmered in cream to mimic the flavour. Other standouts include a gutsy red-braised lamb with gai lan and chewy cassia spaetzle, pigs' ears zingy with Sichuan pepper and a fresh, springy berry dessert. While the food is sourced locally, the generous wine list spans the planet.
I'm not the first to say it, but Italy has a curious effect on
my people. Australians probably find this hard to understand, but
the thought of the Mediterranean, and the promise of ease and
warmth that come with it, does odd things to the British soul. One
of the side-effects of this phenomenon is the now long-standing
connection between Italy and Britain which entails Britons, having
been whipped into a frenzy by food writers such as Elizabeth David,
Jane Grigson and Patience Grey, buying up farmhouses, barns and
villas in Tuscany. Chiantishire indeed.
Interestingly, Italians are not buying great tracts of the British countryside, though they have a particular relationship with British culture, ripe with its own quirks. I remember a cartoon in The Guardian depicting a British couple taking an Italian couple to the Tate gallery; as they're leaving, the Italians wax lyrical about the colours, the muted tones, the gorgeous hues. So, their hosts ask, are they referring to the Turners? The Sickerts? "No," they reply, "we speak of Burberry and Pringle."
I live in Britain and cook British ingredients. Not in a jingoistic way: I am a British chef by default. But I love Italian food. I'm always coming back from Italy with the mantras in my head: less on the plate, simple but delicious. The fact that you can go out to the garden and pick a warm, perfectly ripe tomato for lunch, or have a perfect dinner of pasta and white truffle, then a slice of roast lamb - very hard on the outside, melt-in-the-mouth in the middle - and finish off with fortified red wine and biscuits is hard to resist. The meals I have eaten - what joys.
We cook a lot of Italian at home, mainly because the only good shop near us is a little Italian deli. In spite of this I find that you can watch an Italian cook pasta or a risotto very closely, but you never can make it as well as them. There's a mysterious vibration between ingredients and cook - maybe this is what takes the British to Tuscany to learn the ways of the pasta force. We can't talk about Italian food in the UK without mentioning Giorgio Locatelli. The force is very strong with him. Come the white truffle season you want to go straight to his restaurant to marvel at his Jedi pasta ways.
There is a danger that if Italians stay away from the homeland too long, the force can weaken and we get the Italian who has been off the reservation too long - a species that seems to continue to flourish in the UK. In the '60s and '70s these folk opened slightly out-of-kilter trattorias all over Britain, with waiters in tight red shirts, large phallic pepper grinders, chicken Kiev and always very good linen. These certainly have their place, but they add confusion to the question of what Italian food means in the UK.
There is always hope, and in the '60s this hope was Franco Taruschio at the Walnut Tree near Abergavenny in Wales, who cooked fantastic food from ingredients gathered in his surroundings, showing a respect for his genius loci. This and Marcella Hazan, who prepared the fertile ground for the River Café, marking a happy new chapter in Italo-British culinary relations. This was a much truer form of cooking, bringing ingredients from Italy and cooking them here appropriately, and cooking things here in an Italian fashion. Where there was chaos, now there is order.
While I am outing myself as an Italianist I must pay further tribute to Marcella. When her book landed in Mum's kitchen our life changed. She showed us the way. This was a real Italian talking about food, not a rose-tinted outsider's view. You could learn from her and apply what you learnt to a British larder. Her writing on boiled meat! That pot-roast chicken with two pricked lemons! The squid and potato stew! Influential stuff.
Since there's less on the plate, it has to be delicious. Recipes can be like huge steaks that can defeat you even before you pick up your knife and fork; Marcella is like a sparkling apéritif in comparison. Everything works. Before her, olive oil was something bought from the pharmacy to be poured into gloopy ears. Parmesan is now a marvellous cheese, not the smelly granules that came in a shaker. The bringer of light, Marcella. Consider my tricolori nailed to the mast.
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