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.
Our guide to the best of the region.
Kick off winter with a week of cheese tasting.
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.
After a battery of festivals and feasting, even the élite troops are wounded, writes Fergus Henderson.
Having visited South Australia recently, at last I can write a
piece that's in tune with your seasons, rather than the usual stab
at trying to imagine what the weather is doing on the other side of
the world. Unfortunately the weather had a certain English nature
to it - quite fresh and a certain amount of rain - but this did
nothing to dampen the spirits, thank you very much for asking. I
hear that Adelaide can reach fierce temperatures, so a little cool
in the air was something of a relief. But enough wittering on about
the weather, and on to the festival, Tasting Australia.
An encampment had been built in the main square, which had the feeling of a food lovers' refugee camp - albeit a very well-equipped and vittled one. I attended two dinners cooked in a nose-to-tail fashion and full of splendid things; it's always an interesting experience having someone take your ideas (once you publish a recipe, it's out there for people to do with it what they wish) and run with them. Though the blood macaroon was possibly a step too far for me; I'm going soft with old age.
On this trip, I noticed that with age you become more susceptible to jetlag. Where I used to cock a snook at the time difference, now I get the feeling of being in a bubble - and a hard one to pop. Luckily there was a fine bash on Sunday night with many chefs, friends and a barrel of Old Tom Gin, which proved to be good bubble-popping stuff.
All hail Australia! The cooking, the concern with good ingredients and the spirit of the new abound.
I sped back to the old country in time for my wife, Margot's, 50th birthday, which entailed various feasts, not least a splendid lunch of spider crabs. These wonderful creatures look amazing, and by golly they taste good, with more than a hint of the prehistoric. The next day we cooked a flock of quail, marinated in pomegranate and grilled on the barbecue, giving rise to the perfect singe. Finally, this three-day Festival of Margot concluded with shoulders of lamb pot-roasted with white wine, broad beans, garlic and asparagus, resulting in a delicious subdued green gunge. After three days of eating (some might say to excess), the garden started to resemble Napoleon's retreat from Moscow, with bodies felled by a surfeit of lunch sprawled across the lawn. There was the hardcore still munching on cheese, but time was almost up even for these élite troops, eventually crawling off somewhere to rest: "Wounded, no dead, sir!"
One would be forgiven for thinking, that's quite enough of a good time, but, we reply, this time it's for the children. The Soho Food Feast is a jolly weekend when chefs with ties to London's Soho (which is many, due to the great number of late-night watering holes) gather and cook small samples of their food: Peruvian, Thai, British, New Zealand, it's all there; and all to raise money for the Soho Parish Primary School. St John filled up the troops with ox-heart buns and pickled walnut dressing - just the thing to soak up Trevor's generous pouring in the wine-tasting tent.
Now there's one more festival to go. It strikes me as strange that the young in Britain can't have fun in the countryside without 30,000 other people covered in glitter and silly hats, all prepared to put up with the most rudimentary plumbing. And there isn't just a couple of these events; you could almost fill your summer with back-to-back festivals, though I'm not sure how your liver or brain would pan out - pickled and fried I should imagine.
For our sins, we are bringing St John to the fields of Oxfordshire for the Wilderness Festival, packing our knife rolls with our bed rolls. I will let you know how I survive the pickling.
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