Local Milk Retreat Gotland, Sweden

Photos from a very special week spent on the Swedish island of Gotland back in June.
I found myself there teaching photography alongside / spending time with dear friends at one of Beth Kirby's famed Local Milk Retreats. An absolute honour on its own, let alone the sweet and raw feeling of celebrating a Swedish midsummer here - in utter heaven. Think picnics and horse riding on the beach, wild flower midsummer crowns, cobble stone wanders around the medieval town of Visby, stopping for lunches full of fish and fresh pressed cider, morning yoga, afternoon fika, dinners in the forest and inside tall, white greenhouses, farm tours of endless asparagus and strawberries, flickering candles in windowsills, grey fleeced Gotlandic sheep, a group of incredibly talented women, and evening sleeps and day time relaxation at the breathtaking restored 1700's farmhouse, Hotel Stelor. Possibly the best summer ever.
One million thank you's to two of the most generous people I know - Beth, who held such grace and energy being 7 months pregnant at the time and Matt who successfully got me into drinking both coffee and beer - for an unforgettable and soul nourishing time spent together in one of my favourite places on this earth. 

Interested in joining in on a retreat?
Beth has multiple beauties a year, here.
I'll be teaching alongside an all star lineup at a workshop/retreat in Burgundy, France this August. Information and tickets, here. 

Wild Food Supper

My favourite kind of food is food that has a story. An honest and inspiring story. Food that can be traced back to where and how it grows and especially who grows it. Sometimes nature grows it all by itself and that food is simply grown wild. To me, this is the very best and honest type of food. I get goosebumps just at the thought of it. I picture gumboots on, secateurs in hand and the thrill of the hunt for untouched, region specific and completely in tune with the seasons food. In the late Autumn around coastal NSW Australia, this means finding everything from wild Warrigal greens and lemon myrtle, neptunes necklace and dandelion, wild pepper and fennel seed, rose hips, slippery jacks and stinging nettle. To me, food and it's accompanying story doesn't get any better. Wild food is always exhilarating to get a hold of and once found, its story is best continued to be told in an unfussy, pure and honest way. Simply prepared, cooked simply too and laid out on the table family style, for friends to simply enjoy and eat. 

Earlier this May, myself along with co-hosts Aaron Teece of Studio Neon and Annabelle Hickson of The Dailys, dreamt up a wild food supper to do just this. It was late Autumn and the perfect opportunity to draw on all things wild from the regional radius between the Highlands and the Hawkesbury. It was held at the Balzac family's stunning 1880's converted church on the Colo River. Aaron planned an insane wild menu and was head chef and forager for our afternoon. A long banquet table was made specifically for the occasion, and we set it up outside with alfresco dining, candles and Hawkesbury stars in mind. Annie transformed the table into a wild foliage wonderland with a spectacular installation complete with long gum leaves, grey wattle, prickly pear and twinkling lights (Annie never ceases to amaze me with her creative plant genius). We dressed the table with moss covered twigs, oyster shells and fabric wrapped bento gift bags for each guest - with a glass tube of homemade wild fennel salt and a jar of The Husk Mill cacao tea inside. The most beautiful handwritten menus also graced the table, calligraphed by the ever generous and stylish Caitlin Melling.

As guests began to arrive, we greeted them with craft cocktails made with local Poor Toms Gin, lemon myrtle syrup and wild rose hip jam. The cocktails accompanied a starter menu of coal baked oysters with seaweed butter, Aaron's fresh baked focaccia and servings of soft shell Hawkesbury school prawns collected the day before from Gary up the road. Before we sat for supper, we all went on a participatory guided foraging walk led by Aaron, where we were introduced to the likes of wild grown wood sorrel and dandelion. The bridge then led us across the river to an overflowing organic orange orchard, once owned and recently sold by the Balzac's family friends, where we were able to fill up our baskets with as many navels and valencias as we could carry. With baskets heavy and overflowing, we all wandered back in the last of the afternoon light to be welcomed by a festoon light lit church, a cracking fire, pre dinner drinks by local winery, Logan Wines and a long banquet table lit by flickering candles. We sat for supper and out came our wild meal! Aaron indulged every one of our senses with unfussy, flavour filled and honest plates of nettle and potato soup, wild weed quiche, emu with nasturtium, tuna with Warrigal greens, wild rabitt with dandelion and orange eton mess from our citrus picking stint in the orchard. The wine continued to flow and the table hummed with the sweet sounds of chatter and clinking plates. 

It's evenings like these that I only wish we could pause. It was such a thrill to watch our supper and our wild food story unfold. I am ever so thankful to Annie, Aaron and Caitlin, our supper sponsors and particularly all our guests who made the trip to the Hawkesbury to dine with us and spend the afternoon. It was so great to meet you all, and I hope we all get to dine together again. 

There is hope to hold more of these events in the future - so please do keep and eye out here and here if you would like to join us for the next one. For now, I'll let the photos tell the rest of the story and keep you full on all things wild until then. 

Daily Plenty Workshop

It’s difficult to summarise four rather spectacular days into one blog post. Perhaps that’s why it’s taken me the best part of five months to share photos from the Daily Plenty workshop from last September. Pulling up each image brings with it such vivid, joyful memories. But that’s why we take photos most of the time, isn’t it? So we can look back, no matter how many months have passed and allow the photographs to take us back for a bit and make us feel like we were there just yesterday.

As you scroll through these photos you will have to imagine all that was going on in the background during the rest of the four days here at Moorabinda Station. All that couldn’t simply be compressed into photographs or into this post. Imagine Annabelle Hickson and her children showing us through their garden, where a broody hen took care of little baby chicks and golden afternoon light strew across groves of budding pecan trees. Imagine Caitlin Melling in all her spring time glory, on the old wooden and corrugated iron veranda, arranging cream cans, rusted tin chests and buckets full of cascading purple wisteria, dancing heads of dusty pink hellebores and budding stone fruit blossoms. Imagine Luisa Brimble putting down her camera and picking up the tongs, calling out ‘next!’ as she heated pita bread to over the evening camp fire and handed them to a line of hungry people to make an ice-cream coned shape souvlaki of slow cooked lamb and salad. Imagine Megan Trousdale arriving with boxes of enamelware and aprons, brewing pots of coffee while standing in hushed window light and soaking up honest and heartfelt words to write down later. Imagine Sarah Glover, waking at dawn to pre-heat the wood fired oven in the original shearers quarters kitchen, where she would go on to make the likes of eucalyptus infused biscuits, duck egg meringue, breakfast cinnamon buns, upside down plum and sage cake and wallaby raggu. Imagine the long tables and picnic blankets full of people and chatter and roaring with thigh slapping laughter. Imagine the quiet moments too. Sunsets beaming through mountain gaps of the Dumaresq Valley, morning light filtering into rustic, wood paneled bedrooms and momentary midday naps, snuggling into pure linen sheets. All the generous, full and appreciated moments that come from being on a rural property miles from nowhere, without phone reception and with very little connection to the outside world.

Another exciting thought to imagine is that in three short months, we will be back here – the whole team – creating similar moments all over again. A second workshop. A KITCHEN STORIES + COOKBOOK CREATION workshop.  Sarah will create and make a mind blowing menu for us, recipes inspired by the local area and country scene. Caitlin Melling will be styling up a storm and sharing her tips and tricks. Luisa and I will be teaching photography and offering guidance behind the lense.  Megan will be there with props from her Nundle store and shedding light on the written word and getting published in the editorial world. And of course Annie will be opening and sharing her beautiful haven with us – flowers, photography, country life and light. 

If you would like to join us - and we would very much like to have you – then tickets are now on sale for this workshop – KITCHEN STORIES + COOKBOOK CREATION. As this post goes live, only a few tickets remain, so please jump in quick if all this imagining has made you want to come with. 

For more information, head on over here.  

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!