Yellow Bernard goes global

Last week I received a much appreciated and very generous package from the men from Yellow Bernard in Hobart. It is hard to know how to properly say thanks –aside from sending them a package of the Czech delicacy of pizza with a hot dog crust (truly disgusting, but in a deeply compelling way) – but this will have to suffice.

A welcome sight!

To provide a little context, a few weeks ago I returned back to my lodgings after a lengthy sit down in a Czech Republic micro-brewery to make the rookie error of logging into Facebook while intoxicated.  (At around $AU 1.50 a pint, the night can quickly get away from you. A bit like whipping cream: if you dare to stop concentrating and allow your mind to wander, you’ve been at it too long and it’s a lost cause.) So, in that beer induced golden hue, I posted, in some sort of colloquial jabber, on YBs Facebook page that the local ‘kavarnas’ had yet to live up to the heady heights of the Hobart scene, and that I though the price of posting some beans over here to Brno was worth it.  To further add to the disorderly conduct, when I revisited my post it appeared my light headed self had decided to throw in a couple of hashtags for good measure to really add some spice to my social networking.

Combine the time difference, a couple of comments and a like or two and the post was stuck.  No morning after cleaning up for me.

Needless to say, David, ever the professional, replied warmly and then emailed a couple of days later to organise the postage. I was chuffed that he was willing to go to the effort and excited at the prospect of having my culture shock soothed by the comfort and flavour of the Yellow Bernard house blend.

A week later, the package arrived with 500g of Gridlock’s finest; 250g of ground house blend and 250 g of the 7000 blend. Now, having procured, as advised, a little plunger for my shared room, I have now sat down to boost my caffeine levels, think of home and write a little post of gratitude and thanks. (I feel perhaps, by now, it goes without saying that the YB blends have travelled very well to my home for the next few months and will be enjoyed immensely by those who may be lucky enough to reach that particular level of friendship.)

Yellow Bernard continues to really impress me with their approach and commitment. Going above and beyond seems to be the standard of care that’s become everyday at that hole in the wall on Hobart’s Collins Street. The locals –  as I’m sure many do –  need to realise their luck at having such an establishment in our Southern home .

It really is something else.

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Childhood revisited at Red Velvet Lounge

Hobart was suffering through a brooding morning, so we decided to enjoy Bronnie’s last day before University resumed and went for a 1950s-esque Sunday drive down to Tinderbox and up through the Huon.  Travelling through the Huon is authentic Tasmaniana: a journey through foggy mist and sweeping apple orchards and the moment after, pouring rain as a doey eyed bovine looks on as it meanders through the thick green pasture.  It is idyllic and inherently peaceful, with beautiful cabins, and wooden boats and yachts floating on rippling rivers flowing into the D’Entrecastaux Channel.

On this particular day, Cygnet’s Red Velvet Lounge was our destination. A fortnight or so earlier, I travelled to Cygnet to visit Matthew Evans at his Fat Pig Farm, and on our way Sadie had suggested we visit Red Velvet Lounge. I wasn’t satisfied that one take away coffee was enough to do it justice, and so we returned.

Someone has some serious interior design skills – it feels like home.

It makes a difference to walk into a place and feel instantly welcome. The staff at Red Velvet Lounge are superb, so much so that I will definitely take the forty minute trip again just to see the friendliest, most helpful Ned Kelly look-a-like I have ever come across. He was erudite and professional- a welcome surprise. There’s something wonderful about walking inside, out of the rain, into a warmly lit, fire warmed café come restaurant in a place close enough to the forests for you to feel them. The softly spoken waiter with a thick European accent and a messy upper arm tattoo was attentive without being overbearing. It is a hard skill to master – the awkward “hurry up I want to go home” moment every waiter suffers at some point. Perhaps my own experience (and shocking tactics employed at times) have heightened my senses to any hints of being rushed. There was no rushing at Red Velvet Lounge. In fact, the warm glow from friendliness caused a rush of blood purchase of one of the etching prints out of the eclectic range hung on the walls.

The afternoon tea was exceptional. My upside down pear cake was moist with hints of brown sugar and cinnamon, reminiscent of apple crumble on a winter’s eve. Great food has the capacity to evoke nostalgia: the quietness of the cake put me in mind of memories of childhood family trips to a friend’s property beside the Huon River, looking down over the water. The place had the romance of the bush and the space of the river, the warmth of kitchen surrounded by the outside. Bron had a confit berry tart which wasn’t adventurous but pleasing enough. The custardy filling smooth and textured – if cookbooks are to be believed, when baking desserts, accuracy is important. That attention to detail was clear in the tart.  The flavour was sweet and verged on everyday, but when the everyday is made with fresh berries and is enjoyed in such a location, it is hard to fault. The success of our sojourn was that it was blessed with the comforts of the familiar. A warm cake or a little sweet tart on a chilly afternoon after a long drive.

‘PIzza Slices’

Both servings were provided with a quenelle of cream that was placed with such attention to detail that I felt bad eating it. Of course, cream must be eaten, and I enjoyed all of it. And I wanted more.  I love the feeling of being somewhere that is truly exciting; where the ingredients are fresh and prepared by someone who cares.

I had a pot of Russian Caravan tea which has a strong smokey and earthy flavour and puts you in mind of the pictures on the front of the tea boxes of camel trains. It’s dirty, like unshaven merchants, burly men sitting in the desert. I know that might not sound particularly appetising but I love it. Drinking tea is a ritual act that needs to happen slowly, and it is this ritual that makes choosing it over coffee worthwhile. A close friend and I recently had a disagreement about the point of providing the jug, and an empty cup  with a little pour of milk to do the mixing yourself. He thinks when you order tea, it should be a bag of Bushells in a mug. Nothing more. But he is clearly wrong: part of what makes food wonderful  is the ritual it involves. It is what makes going out for a meal an event, something to be savoured.

Red Velvet Lounge was the perfect way to spend the last afternoon before the stress and mundanity of assessments, exams and assignments. It should be visited on any trip down the Huon, and even for its own sake. Once you are  sitting in front of the fire, a belly full of deliciousness, you’ll be glad you did.

A photo from Fat Pig Farm

Just a little teaser for an article to come soon. I spent some time with Matthew Evans at his new place at Glazier’s Bay, Fat Pig Farm, today.

I look forward to working through the notes and providing a better insight in the coming weeks but for now, this will suffice.

Thanks to Sime BS for taking this snap of the Wessex Saddleback breeding sow while I chatted to Matthew.

Hot Mother Lounge: the Coast’s own

I came home to Burnie for a few days of comfort last week and visiting one of my favourite local cafés was a must.

Hot Mother Lounge is fantastic. It’s what every regional city needs. Caroline Mulder, the café’s ‘Hot Mother’ is one of those locals that everyone knows. Her son was a ballet dancing, representative prop in Tassie’s high school rugby team.  I’ve always thought it spoke volumes about the kind of person she was, to produce a bloke like that.

She’s set something up that really fits in with everything Burnie can be and should be.  It allows the city’s workers somewhere to go for fabulous coffee and homely treats and it allows those that otherwise might not have tried a barley and beef soup to feel that it’s something they could have a go at.  The lunch bar has built a solid reputation from filling that hole in your belly no matter how big or small.  I’ve generally gone for the egg and bacon tart or the chicken foccacia. Now I know what you’re thinking – “That sounds like nothing special. In fact, I could get that anywhere. Who cares? That’s not interesting food. That’s just takeaway toasties.” But I beg to differ.

It is about homely food, like you wished your mother could make – an affordable lunch in a cosy room with two waitresses that are best friends and will happily partake in some banter, if you’re game. It’s not fine dining, and it’s not going to be for you if you’re after a lot of personal space when having your morning cup of coffee.  It’s not pokey, but cosy. The art on the walls can be a bit odd. One day there’ll be some Lisa Garland photos – her evocative gelatin prints of characters with their collections and next time, it’s poorly drawn flower people but hey, it’s supporting local art and I’m all for that. I’ve participated in my fair share of questionable regional productions, and that’s the way it should be – having a crack should definitely be celebrated.

The recycled bus bench seats are, at times, a little uncomfortable. However, I think one of the things Hot Mother does best, and other places around Tassie could follow this model, is that it doesn’t pretend to be something it is not. Take a Launcestonian friend of mine who visited the coast and Hot Mother one afternoon. He couldn’t quite believe the friendliness of the staff and the quality of the fare. I try to avoid being parochial, but Hot Mother proves that Burnie is not the final frontier; and if it is, it’s still a place where you can get some damn fine food and coffee. Eliza churns out espresso guaranteed to impress with its accuracy of temperature and reliability of flavour.  I’m yet to have a coffee I didn’t enjoy at this little place on Wilson St and I’ll be surprised if Hot Mother doesn’t continue to do what its been doing for the past 5 years or so.

So, if you’re feeling like visiting the Coast, Hot Mother Lounge should be a high priority. It’s up there with Cradle Mountain and Boat Harbour Beach as far as I’m concerned – do all three, you’ll have a splendid day.  Caroline and her team are selling quality food and impressive coffee. It wouldn’t be out of place in a Melbourne laneway but for those us that venture north more regularly than for a weekend after a few episodes of Masterchef, Hot Mother Lounge continues to provide the proof that there’s more here than most would realise.  Give it a go, after all, even though it’s uphill all the way from Hobart, it’s downhill all the way back.

It’s a quick little trip when you have gems like this at the destination.

Passion not a trend.

Yellow Bernard have recently acquired a new house blend. The blend is, I’m led to believe, a mix of a couple of single origin beans aimed at showing off the talents of the roasters at Melbourne’s Gridlock Coffee. I’ve been blessed over the past couple of weeks to share a quiet chat with YBs owner/ manager and have been informed of the approach taken by the Victorian brewmasters. He spoke glowingly of the vibe and the electricity of the CBD cafe, a blend of suit and chic, apparently a must see across the Strait on the next jaunt for all things Good Food Guide.

My boss has a penchant for hazelnut in his coffee, and I’ve realised the reason he bastardises his drink so is because he’s not used to consistency. He’s not used to enjoying the flavours of the coffee brought out by someone that truly cares about what they’re doing.

I insisted on shouting the morning snack this week, and of course, he loved it. It’s that drinkability of the coffee that makes it so hard not to go back. Two double shot lattes later and I’m sure he will think twice about returning to the sub-par establishment he prefers to spend his dollars.

I went back later on in the day to purchase the latte pictured above and continued our earlier chat about Gridlock. Brief as it was, again I was pleased to hear the words tumble from him, in a completely unpretentious, non self-conscious way – “At Gridlock, coffee isn’t a trend, it’s a passion. It’s not about hipsters or being cool, it’s just the coffee. We really liked that and that’s what we aim for.’

If this is what Yellow Bernard manages, Hobart will be better off. Bravo Yellow Bernard, more please

Pigeon Hole delivers as Hobart chill rolls in.

A week or so ago I had the delightful opportunity of being taken to Pigeon Hole, on West Hobart’s Goulburn St, for lunch. Pigeon Hole has been my haunt of choice since I first came across it through my older brother in 2009. It’s the sort of place where you can set yourself for a good couple of hours, pick your way through your meal, enjoy the reliably flavoursome coffee and take in the cosiness of the setting in the foothills of ‘the mountain’.

On this particular Saturday, Hobart was subjected to it’s infamous penetrating icey wind, and I was hoping to get a seat inside. However, my timing was poor and outside it was. Not that it really matters, the communal dining makes any visit enjoyable. A very dapper 40-something gent sat next to us with his bright orange pullover looking well at ease in the blowy Autumn surrounds. It’s part of Pigeon Hole’s charm – the community feel, the welcoming smile of Emma working the machine and Jay out the back in the galley kitchen. Management have done a superb job of selecting their staff – always conscientious, without slipping into annoying, something easy to do.

Pigeon Hole in Autumn

We ordered a soup each – chorizo, cabbage and potato – and a roast chicken, aioli, capers and italian parsley panini to share. The soup was a surprise.  I was expecting a thick, hearty, creamy type soup but the dish delivered was more of a broth.  Not that I see a problem with that.  The chorizo was subtle and the potato a welcome addition. Patey’s stoneground whole-meal provided some extra fill to an otherwise light yet satisfying snack.

The panini was, as always, exceptional.  I hadn’t taken note of the capers on the blackboard menu but I would argue they made this particular combination. This is what Pigeon Hole does best. It gets it’s customers to try something a little bit new in a different setting and make it all the more accessible. The paninis have really cemented Pigeon Hole amongst Hobart’s best, and most lauded, eateries. (Mention must be given to the eggs en cocotte – a superb dish.) As noted in an earlier post, Jay and Emma, the duo behind Pigeon Hole, have recently expanded with Pigeon Hole Bakers, which can only be a welcome addition to Hobart’s culinary scene.

Finally, the coffee. Two lattes were always going to please nursing a weary head. So, obviously, Pigeon Hole is a delight. A must see for any visitor to Hobart interested not only in food and coffee but also those that want to enjoy their day just a little bit more.

I look forward to many more afternoons at Pigeon, it’s a fine little place that has quickly become a local institution. Let’s hope they stay small and cosy – as that’s the way to enjoy it.

What a review! Tassie goin’ global.

What a review! Tassie goin’ global.

Tasmanian’s culinary scene is booming.  Here’s some third party knowledge dropped by a Big Apple foodie.

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