Heading for a visit with Sally Wise, Jill and I set out for Eagleneck, on the Tasman Peninsula. As we are greeted at the kitchen door, our eyes are directed to the array of baked goods on the counters; bread, brioche, scones, a cake. Jars of preserves await stowing. In a glance, I see that Sally is using mason jars to store her dry goods; later I discover larger, matching tubs of the same items in greater quantity. We wander out (taking advantage of the “communal scuffs” to avoid soiling our shoes with animal droppings) to visit the chooks, and gather a still-warm egg. Completely unexpectedly, we are presented with a lunch of sumptuous array. Blackberry and raspberry jams, zucchini pickle cheese spread, aoili and pesto are “whipped up” while we chat. Other preserves are served right from the jar. All the while, Sally declines to sit and join us, but chats about her recent work, a fourth book release. She gathers copies of all four books, signs them and hands them to me. And, she seems genuinely grateful for the copy of Vancouver Cooks Two, which Neil has managed to have signed by the board members of the Chefs’ Table Society. We discuss the possibility of using the herb asafoetide to add flavour to goods made to accommodate garlic and onion allergies. It seems that Sally has been cooking to accommodate allergies for a long time; gluten-free and dairy-free is the theme of one of her books. Stuffed to near-bursting, we bid our farewells; jars of preserves are pressed into our hands. Sally’s son, Allistair, owns Sweet Envy, a cafe in a neighbouring town; I promise to drop in during the weekend. Sally is the guest on the Saturday morning radio program, which Jill assures me will have time to listen to.
Our drive home is leisurely, around the Peninsula, via Port Arthur. At Nabeena, we stop in to ask Rosa about her sauerkraut. In Rosa’s absence, her husband, Branko, described the process of coring the cabbage before stuffing with salt, then packing the heads into a small barrel/crock and covering with boiling water. The barrels were covered and set aside for 15-20 days, and had just been emptied; we were not treated to any visual clues as to the process. Approaching the drive at home, we notice Hans and Diana in the meeting room of the Rectory, a sign of something gone awry with access to the apartment. It turns out that they have waited only an hour. Diana is dispatched to shower, and Jill and I regale Hans with our preserving stories.
Dinner at Barilla was a seafood delight. We started with fresh oysters from the farms of Barilla, seared scallops on cauliflower puree (incredibly silky, if I may say), and chicken and herb terrine. This was followed by crispy skinned salmon (one of the mainstays of Tasman aquaculture) with falafel and rocket/feta salad x 3, and a pan-roasted boarfish for me, accompanied by zucchini fritter and rocket/parmesan salad with delightfully tart pickled shallots. It was quiet for a Friday night, although word has it that dinners usually wrap up here before 9. We were one of 2 tables remaining at 9:15, and the last table to leave. Service could be described as polite but unattentive.
It was another great day.
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