To Market - with Florist Michelle Collison of Shady Fig

It’s a new year. New days, new goals, new hopes. One new year hope is to spend more time surrounded by flowers. Perhaps this has something to do with the current balmy season and all things beautiful seeming to be in bloom, or because I am tired, for now, of photographing food (a passing phase I’m sure). Or maybe it’s because flowers in all their glorious, perfect, natural beauty simply make me happy. I appreciate them.
I did sit on the fence for quite some time just a few years back deciding if I wanted to choose floristry or photography as my next profession. I don’t regret my choice. But I am wondering if I should pull a slasher and do both... Honestly? I am obsessed with flowers. Learning names and seasons, foraging natives, gardening and floristry. I simply can’t get enough.

As far as the art of floristry goes, I have always had such continued adoration for Berry’s local florist, Michelle Collison of Shady Fig. Her work is undeniably beautiful. Michelle’s arrangements and instillations go beyond the predictable, always bursting with a certain unique and verdant flair. The type of arrangement you can’t just walk by. The type of arrangement you dream of being delivered to your front door every other week. Visiting/browsing through/smelling her Berry or Nowra stores is a weekly must for me (if you’re in town, do go!). You can tell every flower and ware is handpicked and radiates Michelle’s unmistakable talent and style – always impressive and ambrosial.

Equally impressive is Michelle’s weekly work schedule and dedication to her craft. Twice a week on Monday’s and Friday’s, Michelle wakes at 2.00am and makes the two hour long journey from her home on the South Coast, NSW to the Sydney Flower Markets in Flemington. There she personally selects flowers and plants to bring back with her to her two Shady Fig stores, where she will continue to work all day until 5pm to then go home in the evening to her young family. Clearly her market runs are an important part of the floristry process for Michelle, something she still finds joy and purpose in. She must. Crazy early mornings and 15 hour days twice a week aren’t for everyone.
 

I recently had the opportunity to join Michelle on a Monday morning market run. I can’t tell you how excited I was when Michelle agreed to let me follow along -- you simply wouldn’t believe me. Getting up at 2.00am, falling in complete love with the early morning bustle, scent and sight of everything at the market, watching Michelle as she hand picked bunches and chatted like old friends with the store holders, meeting Michelle’s good friend and fellow florist Saskia Havekes of the famed Grandiflora and joining in on the market morning ritual breakfast omelet before making it back home, half asleep but still buzzing with market adrenaline by 9.30am – I now understand completely why Michelle does it. Utter rapture. It was the most wondrous morning and such an honor and treat to join in on and to photograph.

Michelle, thank you for allowing me to grasp a glimpse into the pre-dawn magic of your floristry world. My obsession was nothing but fed and I adore even more now all that you do. This New Year, if I am able to not only spend more time surrounded by flowers but also emulate but a small amount of your inspired work ethic and style, then I can only imagine 2016 to be a very productive, heady and bountiful year. Here’s to that.

A Sunday Oyster Roast

An old stone homestead and an artist’s studio. Paddock wanders. Wombat holes. Glowing wattle bathed in warming winter sun. A still, Shoalhaven river. Gritty river sand and a fire on the beach. With a fire pit full of coals to cook, fireside chairs to sit, sparkling wine to drink and oysters to eat. Many, many oysters.  This was how our Sunday afternoon was to be. A Sunday oyster roast. 

Our roast found its perfect place on the property of Bundanon Trust. A beautiful location for creatives to be nourished and front row seats to an untouched sandy riverbed (our cheeky way around a ‘beach’ fire, where it's otherwise doomed illegal). Friends gathered, they came from north and west. A day in the country lures you in like that: dirt tracks and grassy farms, kookaburra calls and the cleanest of air. Friends started with a tour of the old stone homestead, the once home of the Boyd family fame. Then on to Arthur Boyd’s artist studio, to take a peek around. To get to the river, they walked. Across the farm, past the cows and dodging the wombat burrows - the ultimate mascot of this part of the bush. Finally, they arrived to the river. And sparkling wine arrived to them. It was a warm winter’s day, topping out at 19. We were thrilled about that. 

Back in Florida, on the Gulf Coast, I had been introduced to the institutional, mandatory and very southern celebration that is an oyster roast. Apalachicola is, after all, the southern place to eat oysters. Many, many oysters. Watching the burlap steam after being dunked in water and laid over the top of the unshucked shells is nothing short of mesmerising. The oysters would cook under the steam, their shells would naturally crack open and their flesh would be enjoyed with a saltine cracker, a dollop of horseradish and a drop of hot sauce. Witnessing the roast felt like an appropriate cultural initiation. So fun to learn how. I would, I thought, bring this back home.

Days before, Tara and I had been to the Clark Oyster farm to harvest the oysters from the roast. These beauties were fresh, fresh, fresh. Sitting pretty in their hessian bag, we had options to cook them. Hours to eat them. Our many, many oysters. Hessian was dipped in the water and we began to steam them the southern way. Again, mesmerized.
Not only did we steam them but we also shucked them by the river’s edge, upstream from where they grew. They were washed in the icy river then dressed in a blood orange mignonette. We roasted them too, on their half shell. We let them bubble in the most intoxicating, garlicy stinging nettle butter. To wash them down, we drank a local brut cuvee, and later, cardamom spiked mulled wine. To go with, we ate from a big pot of Gumbo - a southern Creole stew, heated over the fire and served on a bed of rice cooked in river water. Chicken, prawns and okra took on the scent of the fires smoke. The bottom burned a little and the extra charred flavour worked.
No southern fire would be left without first roasting s’mores, so we did that too. Homemade vanilla bean marshmallows and slabs of cocoa rich chocolate were sandwiched between layers of homemade honey graham crackers.
We were full.

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Our roast was also accompanied by a small pop up gallery. A selection of prints from my time spent photographing the Floridian Gulf coast - a place that taught me so much about gathering and tradition and about honoring seasonal food and location. The photos that I took were for a book, a beautiful book about the traditional lifestyle of ‘old’ Florida (I would love for you to follow along with the publication and upcoming release of the book, ‘The Saints of Old Florida’, here). It was only appropriate to share a piece of this place and celebrate the process of the book throughout our Sunday oyster roast (the photos looked so good in print!). From days out on the bay on the Raffield's boat, from learning how to make smoked mullet dip in the Farrell's kitchen, from oyster farm visits and raw bars and picnics with the girls eating crab claws and tomato and shrimp pie. A gentle and grateful nod to my time learning the way of the south, spending time with its generous people and eating and roasting their oysters. 

There is something so very special to be said about enjoying an afternoon in the quiet, surrounded by the Australian bush at its very seasonal best, cooking outdoors, smelling of campfire smoke and crunching on the occasional piece of stray sand. I must admit, time flew by. I wish I could have stayed and stayed. Always the way when you are surrounded by likeminded friends and what seemed like a never ending supply of bubbles and oysters. Eventually, the fading light guided us home.  
It left me thinking. I wanted to do it again. And again. Could I? Would I, really?

So, now I have some very EXCITING NEWS!

- Lean + meadow Sunday Roasts –

They are going to become a thing! A real, ongoing event, finding the very best Sunday spots all over Australia, to roast.  Many, many more campfire cook ups. Plus always an extra element, a slow living or adventure element, to really relish the day. A rural day. Think the Snowy Mountains in the late spring, fly fishing for trout, roasting and smoking them on the rocky riverbed, sharing the freshest river to plate meal. Perhaps a summer rainforest wild foods roast, complete with foraging, in the northern NSW hinterland. Tasmania in early autumn, on an apple orchid, picking fruit and roasting it up with happy, free range, slow fire cooked pork. And I think, we should throw in another oyster roast in there too. Oh, I dream! But I do. I truly want to make this happen. Putting my words here feels like the very first step.
And, I want to hear from you! Is this something you would like to join me for? Would you come along for the day, invite slowness and adventure into your Sunday with a location specific, carefully curated seasonal roast? If that’s a yes, please say so! Do leave me a note in the comments! I’m just dying to hear your thoughts!

As for the next Sunday roast, keep an eye on mid October for an update! Until then, below are some recipes from our Sunday on the river, to keep you roasting.

Also, a very important note: Many thanks goes to Bundanon Trust for hosting us on their property for the day and to Mary for generously taking the tours. A massive thanks to Deborah and Grant Clark of Clark Oysters from just down the river at Greenwell Point, for their generous donation of the pacific oysters (and who are also expecting their first baby any day now!). Our wine, too, was also a special local gift: The Cuvée Brut was from the folks over at Two Figs Winery (the very best of views to sip cellar door wine from) and the Chambourcin for the mulled wine was from Coolangatta Estate (an extra thank you Mary). 

Steamed Oysters, Southern Style

prep time: 30 - 45 minutes to make a fire and get good coals
cook time: 8 minutes
serves: as many as you have oysters for!

Fresh unshucked oysters
Thick metal BBQ plate
Bricks
2 x Hessian Sacks
Fresh water (not sea water)
Hot coals
Horseradish + Tabasco Sauce
Homemade saltine crackers (see recipe below)

Once you have built a fire and have hot coals, make a sturdy base for the BBQ plate over the coals using the bricks. Place the plate on top and allow the plate to heat up for a minute or two (it will be ready when a splash of water dropped on the plate immediately sizzles).

Place the oyster shells, flat side up, on the hot plate. Dip the hessian bags in the cold, fresh water and place over the top of the oysters. Allow the oysters to steam for 6-8 minutes. Once cooked, their shells should pop open. Transfer the oysters to a plate and serve at once with a saltine cracker, a small dollop of horseradish and a drop of Tabasco sauce.

 

Homemade Saltine Crackers

prep time: 15 minutes
cook time: 15 minutes
serves: 8

140 g / 1 cup flour
2 tbs butter
90 – 100ml water
1/2 tsp salt
Extra flaked sea salt for sprinkling the tops

Preheat oven to 200°C / 400°F.

In a food processor, pulse together the butter and flour until the butter has turned to bread crumb consistency. Alternatively, rub butter into flour using finger tips.

Slowly add the water until the mixture just comes together to form a dough. The dough shouldn’t be too sticky. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Sprinkle the dough and a rolling pin with flour and roll the dough out until it is 3-4 mm thick. Be sure to pick the dough up and turn midway through rolling, sprinkling extra flour underneath to avoid sticking to the surface.

Using a pizza cutter or knife, cut the dough into little rectangles (approx. 3 x 4cm) and place on a baking paper lined tray.

Bake in the oven for 15 minutes. Leave to cool (they get crispier as they cool down).

Serve with oysters as above or with cheese or dip. Can be stored in an airtight container for up to two weeks.

Blood Orange Mignonette

cook time: 10 minutes
makes: approx 1 cups mignonette for 2 dozen fresh oysters
serves: 8 as a starter

1 small red onion, finely diced
½ cup champagne or white wine vinegar
½ cup freshly squeezed blood orange juice (about one large orange)
freshly ground black pepper

Combine onion, vinegar, orange juice and pepper to taste in a bowl. Whisk together until combined. Serve over freshly shucked oysters (two teaspoons per oyster a good amount!)

Stinging Nettle Butter

prep time: 10 minutes
cook time: 5 minutes
makes: approx 250g butter

I found a good bunch of stinging nettle leaves on my drive between Berry and Kangaroo Valley. However they seem to thrive anywhere where there is a little moisture in the ground and cool shelter from the trees. To forage the leaves, you will need gloves, scissors and a bag to carry them in. The barbs on their leave sting - a lot! Try to aim for the young leaves that grow on the top part of the plant. If they have flowers, they are too old. In Australia, fresh, young nettles are best found at the end of August through to late November.

225 g cultured unsalted butter at room temperature (we used pepe saya butter) 
2 cups loosely packed young wild stinging nettle leaves
2 cloves of garlic, finely grated
½ tbs Dijon mustard
grated zest of one unwaxed lemon
50 mls fresh lemon juice
10g flaked sea salt
freshly ground black pepper

Using tongs, place the nettle leaves in a small saucepan and add water to cover. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and blanch for 5-6 minutes. This blanching process removes the sting from the nettles. Drain and pat dry.

Place all ingredients, including the blanched nettle, into a food processor and blend together on high speed until the nettle has been chopped to fine pieces and the butter is smooth. Transfer the butter to a bowl. This butter pairs beautifully with fresh bread or roasted oysters.

If using on roasted oysters, place a small dollop (about one teaspoon) per shucked oyster and roast on a bbq plate over high heat until butter has melted and begins to bubble. For lightly cooked oysters 2-3 minutes, for well-cooked oysters, 4-5 minutes. Transfer to a plate and serve immediately. 

Enjoy!

A Pacific Oyster Harvest

ingredient profile
n: pacific oyster
l: greenwell point, nsw
s: july - april

One early August afternoon, we set out on a little boat to harvest some pacific oysters. Oysters shucked fresh from the water right there on the boat are something else. We came back with a generous haul.

Interview with oyster farmer: Grant Clark

From planting to the plate, what is the life span of a pacific oyster?
The life span of our pacific oysters range from 15 months to 2 years depending on their size. Pacific oysters are considered to be a very fast growing oyster compared to the other species we grow, the Sydney Rock oysters which take nearly 3.5 years to reach the market. We receive our pacific oyster spat (babies) from a hatchery in Tasmania at 2.5mm in length and our first sale grade oyster is about 70mm in size (known as a “bistro” oysters). Our largest oysters grow right up to 180mm (known as “Grande” oysters). Every 3 months or so of their life the oysters are thinned out as they grow. This makes sure that they have plenty of space to continue growing and access to plenty of food.

Where do pacific oysters like to grow and when are they in season?
The Pacific oysters like to grow in estuaries where there is a mixing of both fresh and salt water.  This mixing produces the plankton and the algae that they like to eat as filter feeders. Within the estuary itself, they tend to like areas that have a good, strong tidal flow that provides some shelter from the wind. Pacifics are in their best condition from late winter all the way through to Easter. 

Something interesting about pacific oysters that we may be surprised to learn?
The pacific oyster can live to up to 30 years of age and grow up to 40cm!

Where did your interest in farming come from?
I have always loved being on the water. I studied marine biology at Wollongong University and then worked in fisheries as a researcher for a few years. During that period I was lucky to meet some people who were entering into the oyster industry, and saw an opportunity to be involved with an industry that is really improving. Things snowballed quickly from there and before I knew it, my wife Deborah and I were looking at a farm that had recently gone on the market.

As a farmer, what are your thoughts on better understanding the process and origins of our food?
As a relatively new farmer of only a couple of years, I have come to really appreciate the work and passion that goes into producing our food. There is definitely a disconnect in thinking between the way a lot of our food is consumed and the process it takes to get to the table. One of the reasons I was attracted to oyster farming was that it is a very environmentally aware industry. As end users of the water way, a clean pollution- free estuary is what our livelihoods depend on.  So being able to educate consumers to bridge that gap between what we are eating, where it comes from and some of the processes and environmental systems involved is very important.

What is the best part about being an oyster farmer?
Being on the river when the weather is nice and sun is out, there is no better office. The farming life also allows for greater flexibility for family time or other activities than a traditional nine to five job.

 The worst part?
As I’m sure is the case for a lot of other farmers - the weather and being outdoors would have to be both the best and worst parts of the job. A cold and rainy winter’s morning with a howling westerly wind, driving around in the oyster punt looking for your oyster bags that have been swept away in a flood is not the most enjoyable day out on the water!

Your favourite way to eat oysters?
My favourite way to eat oysters is to have them raw on the half shell with a drop of lemon – ideally sitting on our wharf on a Friday afternoon with a beer and a few mates.

Deborah and Grant Clark own and run Clark Oysters on the Shoalhaven River in Greenwell Point, NSW. They grow and sell both Sydney Rock and Pacific Oysters. Clark Oysters were very kind in donating their oysters for the Lean and Meadow Sunday Oyster Roast (more coming soon!). They were delicious. You can find Deb and Grant at the Kiama Farmers Market every Wednesday afternoon. 

Moorabinda Station Part I - Our Weekend with the Dailys

For more Moorabinda photos and stories, click here for our Weekend With The Dailys E-book!

We passed the last town a while back. Now, as we followed the black lick of a line out deeper into the south, out to the west and into the Dumaresq Valley, we watched the landscape blur. The limbs of trees sagged heavy with prickly pear, mistletoe and wattle. We couldn’t help but forage. We stopped to pick some of each, reaching, jumping high up for the best branches and tasting the pears and their prickles on our lips. Our bounty was rich, but knowing the place and the people we were about to meet, our bounty was about to grow richer.

Driving into Moorabinda Station, we were greeted with the quintessential beauty of a rural, wintry Australia. Rusted metal gates, corrugated iron and a huge wool shed come dance hall come whatever. There were ancient towering gums and kelpies lying beneath them. Utes and farm houses and thousands of acres with neighbours nowhere to be seen. There were also shearer’s quarters, a place for us to sleep and make our home for the next two nights. Here, rustic and wooden bedrooms opened out to one long veranda. The common place was the kitchen, with an old wooden farm table tucked between the wood fired stove and a stores cupboard. There was also a dining room fixed alongside that housed a long dinner table, which in the evenings was full of flickering candle light and warmth from an open fire.

There was content here to feast on for the whole weekend. Our company, nine likeminded ladies (most somewhat new but all very dear friends) came together to do just this. To share the time away, to live slowly, to photograph and to feast. We cooked, we talked, we ate. We tended to wheelbarrows of wattle and our other foraged bits, sipped hot toddies by the campfire and stared at the stars. We learned what it means to wake early and build a fire on the wood fired oven before we could have tea. We ate brunch on the veranda, searched for brumbies on the station and killed and prepared chooks and ducks for our dinner on a farm nearby. Our days were full, full, full. And our evenings were slow and long and delicious. We couldn’t possibly want for anything else.

Out here, among the wintry rural landscape, everything felt calm. There were moments, so many moments, where it was nice to stop and remember just that. That moment. For its smell. For its goosebumps. For its rhythm. Ichi-go ichi-e was so apt right here. This weekend, so special but soon gone, was a place to be present, fully. And so easily done. The bounty here among us was just so very rich.

These were our friends, this was our food and this stunning place was ours for the weekend.

A big thanks to Philip and Julia Markham for letting us stay on your farm. To Paul and Jenny Magna for the birds, for the pizza and for the inspiration. And the biggest thanks of all to Annabelle, for preparing it all, for letting us come visit and for giving us a glimpse into your daily life.