Grounded in place
I’m Tasmanian through and through. My ancestors came to Van Diemen's Land as convicts, and when their time came to be released, they received land behind Hobart where they grew berries. Food abundance wasn't something that happened to them. They had to create it, and that legacy shaped my parents relationship with food, the land, and it’s the legacy that has grounded me.
I grew up in Southern Tasmania, on the beach, on boats, in a family that camped every school holiday, and fed everyone who walked through the door. My grandfather tended the vegetable garden, and what I learned from him was more than gardening. It was the sense of wellbeing and groundedness that comes from caring for the land and appreciating its bounty.
Seasons and tides
Food was never separate from life in our family; it was woven through everything. Cooking with the season, wasting nothing, feeding whoever turns up at the door taught me the value of connection. It’s not a food philosophy I’ve adopted because its trendy, it's just how I grew up. It's in the ground, in my family, and on Flinders, it’s in the tides, the seasons, and the rhythms of island life.
I am immensely proud of living on Flinders and the food experiences that I offer from this remote corner of Bass Strait. Welcome to my haven.
Connection
I trained at one of Hobart's original wine bars, one of the first in Tasmania. There was a kitchen garden out the back and game hanging in the cellar. I won apprentice of the year, then spent the next three decades cooking everywhere I could: vineyards in Tasmania and Victoria, restaurants and cafes in Melbourne, and catering across Australia.
Cooking has also allowed me to travel. I was Head Trainer at KOTO, a renown social enterprise restaurant in Vietnam, and once found myself preparing a barbecue in a racing pit in the USA, where I ended up having a gin and tonic with Paul Newman. But that’s a long story for another time.
Determination
I ran a little food shop in Whitemark for a few years. Running a food business on Flinders is a challenge because of its size and the seasons. To me, it was the “Little Shop That Could”. It taught me everything: what works, what doesn't, and what people do and don’t want to eat on this island. The green pie became its own legend and the rhubarb danishes were out the door before they could hit the display cabinet.
I am planning to write the cookbook — the recipes, the lessons, and the full story of the Flinders food journey that brought me here. Sign up to my occasional newsletter and I’ll keep you updated!
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