Pop-up food venue in Hobart appears

A lane somewhere with people sitting on milk crates-OMG!

‘Pop-up’ venues are sprouting in our larger cities almost nightly with canny and inventive operators utilizing shared spaces or mobile ventures that operate outside of the conventionally accepted way of trading. Food businesses have been quick to channel this model.
Imagine mu surprise when I stumbled upon a fabulous and unique ‘Pop-up’ food stall in Hobart last week, I believe it to be the first of its kind. Don’t try to track it down though, next week it will just ‘appear’ somewhere else.
Did anyone notice the stall tent erected in the laneway behind Luxe on Sunday morning? Did anyone think the crowd of mostly young hipsters milling about was a bit unusual? I did.
So I ambled up to see what all the fuss was about.
It was a small stall with hand painted signs, lots of stencil art and stylised graffiti all over it. From it, warm pita bread was filled with fragrant lamb or spiced tofu and dispensed to a very appreciative crowd. Two very smiley young woman were serving but were not the owners. They tell me the owner is a guy called ‘el scorcho’ (yes it’s true!), a food guru of sorts and apparently very tekked-up, who lives in the hills near Maydena and every week he intends to do some sort of Guerrilla Food stall in Hobart.
In a smaller tent adjacent, a DJ was spinning lo-fi soul beats whilst a few swayed rhythmically to the sounds. People were swigging from bottles of wine and beer.
I clicked my heels several times.
‘There’s no place like home’, I repeated to myself like Dorothy.
Was this Hobart on a Sunday? Was I lost?
Was Hobart suddenly, erm…Hip?

Where have all the farmers gone?

Today we had a booking from the Southern Tasmanian Farmers group, a collective that had been meeting for a few decades. As they arrived and I’m not being ageist here but I was struck at how old they all were.
Now many of you might be aware that many Farmers are due to retire in the next couple of years and many have already. It’s an apparent reality that younger generations are not taking up where their elders left off. Combine with the uncertainties of climate change and its effects and future global financial spasms makes a life on the land look a whole lot less attractive. Times have changed also. Once one could just specialize in one or two lines but now diversity is the key as it once was generations ago.
When these people finally retire who will fill their places? The seemingly inevitable spectre of us relying on overseas markets to sustain us scares me. Not from some xenophobic reason but more because it makes me uneasy thinking that we might be relying too much on another country to provide us with primary produce, stuff which we grow here now.
I think this looming problem is becoming more apparent to consumers as they educate themselves as to the provenance of the produce they buy. It perhaps is the impetus that fuels many to seek out their own plot of land and try to grow their own gaining the skills required to sustain themselves. Many believe that when the waves of the perfect storm of Peak oil, GFC and the mass migrations of people to the cities finally crash on our collective shores, they will be prepared.
This sound all a bit too desperately whacko to you? It does to me and I’m typing it but I was really struck by the image of all of these elderly farmers and who they were going to pass the baton to?

Salmon racing, a way of life

Above-preparing the salmon pre-race. note the hand priming technique

Above-an exhausted racing salmon after a strenuous training session-in this case an unofficial record was smashed!

I thought it was a myth. I’d heard about it before we arrived in the state but just assumed that it was yet another quirky idiosyncrasy that Tasmania seems to nurture.
However when we arrived in the Huon in 2003 I was dropping my daughter off at her new friends hose and of course I met her parents.
As we exchanged pleasantries outside I found my attention being drawn to the thrashing of water in what looked like a large above ground swimming pool.
‘Oh that’ my host said pointing to the pool behind him. ‘My racing Salmon’
‘Racing Salmon?’ I query
‘Yes, I’ve got three mature racers and four still training, one of the mature ones was runner-up in the state Championships’
‘There’s a Championship, in Salmon racing? I look to his wife, searching for any sign of them having me on.
‘State Championship, but he‘s Champion of the Huon’ she adds.

This wasn’t a joke.
‘So how does one race a salmon?’ I ask, reasonably I thought.
They both share a look which I have come to interpret as ‘Ignorant Mainlander’
Patiently she tells me: the salmon are especially bred to be larger and are given a training regimen which increases their already considerable swimming abilities resulting is very large tail, lateral, pelvic and dorsal fins. The salmon I saw in their tanks looked nothing like the ones that are farmed throughout the region.

They are trained to race along a specially submerged track chasing a small plastic red apple which is dragged along a wire, not unlike greyhounds chasing the electronic rabbit. The tracks vary in length but the rules state they must be a minimum of 1km and no more that 1.2km.
Each time they do a circuit, electric sensors relay this and each ‘lap’ is recorded. The most laps within the required time, usually three 10 minute heats is declared the winner.
The salmon are able to be identified to their owners by the brightly coloured and skin tight ‘wetsuits’. The colours of each house are not dissimilar to Jockeys silks.
I was gob-smacked. I had no idea such a sport existed yet alone such dedicated participants were excelling in it.
Anyway the season is almost upon us so my advice is: seek out this unusual and exciting sport!

It's my opinion, but it's yours for a price

Over the last couple of years food blogging has finally been welcomed into the mainstream. Like all cults, there are splinter groups and within those might even be more specific chapters devoted to a particularly niche aspect of food.

Though we might all front up under the same Jamboree as food bloggers, the issue of paid endorsements by bloggers is a very divisive subject.

It was a smouldering topic at Eat Drink Blog in March earlier this year which seemed to combust with this post soon after and again revisited by this post.

It seems at every corner there is a product eager to be endorsed by a celebrity and I use the word celebrity with a grain of salt.

It make’s sense that some food bloggers are being courted as the parallel between their mainstream acceptability and their burgeoning reach becomes apparent to marketers, they are part of the brave if not all that new world.

Celebrity chefs however, could be argued, are at the parabolic trajectory of this advertising phenomenon, where perhaps we are starting to feel promotion fatigue,
John Lethlean's article in last weeks Weekend Australian seems to indicate this.

Although this latter development might be true, it hasn’t perturbed many chefs from cashing in on their status like SUV drivers untroubled by the looming disaster that is peak oil.
Some have deals with supermarkets, cheese companies, meat and livestock suppliers, choccy manufacturers, coffee roasters, glassware providers, crockery makers etc. I’m sure they have all been made offers that were simply just too hard to refuse as those oily Don Corleone types do have persuasive tongues.

So if you are a chef and a food blogger, surely ticking both boxes puts one fair and square into the ‘next most eligible’ target for some spruiking endorsement?

Before you get too excited and start imagining jangling the keys to your complimentary Jaguar or flicking your hair and smiling toothsomely to the staccato flash-pulses of the fashion photographer while he ‘captures’ you at home, whipping something up suggestively, be sobered that it doesn’t always eventuate like so.

Imagine my surprise when I was approached by a Moistened Towellette company to endorse their range of colour coded hygiene wipes.

WTF!

Hardly Rock and Roll is it AND the pay's rubbish!

They do wipe up well with a refreshing pine-tang fragrance though.

My Tasmania, not perfect, but close

below: picture of disgruntled commenter on Rita's Bite

"Oh for goodness' sake stop whining!"

I have been absorbing the comments on Rita’s Bite concerning the state of play in the Tasmanian dining scene. Many of her readers bemoan what they believe are the very poor standards of food, service and ambience in our restaurants that pass for the norm here. A few have stated that compared to the rest of the country, our restaurants are way below par. Some have even suggested that we are in the midst of an industry crisis with one commenter saying they know of 40 chefs that have worked in Tasmania (I’m presuming that these chefs were not originally from Tasmania) who all agree on terrible service offered by suppliers, cant get quality staff and the locals don’t appreciate their food, preferring ultra simple cuisine and this has caused them to move back to wherever they came from. It paints a pretty grim picture.

However.

It occurred to me that I must be in another Tasmania, some sort of Tasmanian parallel universe?

In my Tasmania, my suppliers are helpful, enthusiastic and offer some remarkable produce.
In my Tasmania, the people I have worked with are lovely, professional and motivated.
In my Tasmania my customers seem to enjoy the food, service and ambience we provide.
In my Tasmania I can get amazing local produce consistently

But nothing is ever perfect and as Budda says: Life is suffering.

Sure, there are some obvious shortcomings here occasionally and we should always aim for betterment in our industry but I can’t imagine living and cooking anywhere else that beats this place.

I really don’t see the point in bleating about this perception that we are a backward culinary state. If some of these commenters are working within the industry, then might I suggest they just lead by example and get on with amending these alleged short-comings. The fact that many of them remain anonymous highlights that it is very easy to opine without consequence or scrutiny of their own businesses and or positions.

Just my two bobs worth.

Thank goodness for spelling pedants

Had to laugh.

Last night a good friend of mine came in for dinner with some of his mates. He is a noted menu spelling and grammar pedant who is shocked the lack of care that so many restaurants take when compiling their menus.

Now people might call me a lot of things but Steve the excellent speller or Steve the master of grammar aren't two that I hear frequently. In fact Rita has for years lambasted my shamefully sloppy menu oversights even though I protest that we are always on the fly.
Not good enough, no excuses. Of course she and others are right.
So imagine my surprise when my learned friend congratulated me on the faultless spelling of the evening menu.

I nearly fell off my perch.

I couldn't bask in the glory for too long though and had to reveal that I now get at least two people to check the menu before I press print.

Delegate. Thats D. E. L. E. G. A. T. E. delegate

Match fixing & other revellations

The cricket world the last few weeks has been reeling from the allegations of match fixing. Several high profile Pakistani cricketers have been named and are helping the authorities with their ongoing investigations. At its heart, it seems the low pay rates and conditions are responsible for the making the lure of illicit earnings more attractive. Whilst not condoning cheating I can understand that someone not paid their worth might choose to increase their earnings albeit beyond conventionally accepted methods. But it’s important to acknowledge that this reality has been around forever and it’s naive to think otherwise.

How many if not all business transactions, deals, mergers, acquisitions or whatever, are done every day without some sort of dubious and questionable morally acceptable outcomes being employed that benefit the parties concerned?

In fact, I have come to believe that this is the norm rather than the exception to the rule.

It makes me laugh that some poor underpaid, underappreciated Pakistani cricketers have been made the scapegoats for the world’s moral failings. What makes it particularly and sweetly ironic is that they, as cricketers, are representative of that uniquely British brand of ‘soft-colonialism’ by which its devotees are required to upkeep the traditions of good sportsmanship alive and attractive to other disciples.

It seems a tad arrogant to think one can ‘bolt-on’ some sort of simplistic and rigid ‘honour-code’ to a colony without taking into account the complexities and head spinning differences that one particular country might have.

I want to draw the readers’ attention to the world of hospitality for a moment as I was shocked by the front page of the Mercury today.

Not because it was an expose on the rights of an individual being abused.

Not because it was highlighting the disparity of the National Fair Work guidelines and the daily realities of how many small businesses are dreadfully out of touch or choose to be.

Not because the business in question was operated by people of Indian background, even though the Mercury had published several stories of similarly inclined businesses that had apparently breached these new Fair Work awards but their nationality was not mentioned, nor were they get photographed

And least not because of the general acceptance that people in the hospitality industry are well acquainted with ‘cash’ payments.

No I was shocked that this, small business story, though alarming and also undoubtedly troubling should overshadow the immensely disturbing and ongoing news of the David Jones sexual harassment case.

Here is a company, one whose history interweaves with that of our nation, which is alleged, to have a history of sexual harassment and the subsequent covering up of said offences.

Why is this not front page news?

Why are we expected to overlook an apparently institutionalized culture of sexism at the highest level yet judge the questionable exploits of a very small business in the same breath?

To me, the former needs us to really evaluate what we think is acceptable on so many levels of not only corporate responsibility but expectation on a society level whereas the unambiguous exploitation of a worker in the latter, is a relatively easy one to address.

What I find abhorrent is the notion that while many of us accept that violation of human rights are rife in the world , in this case the paper chose to play the racism card by portraying the Indian business owners who are exploiting their workers yet there are examples of Anglo Tasmanians doing the same.

Balancing my mostly optimistic view of the world with my DNA which is that of a dyed in the wool cynic is at times I admit, a challenge but I will leave you with this:

Our most Illustrious chef in history Escoffier was sacked during his career for stealing.

At the time did anyone insinuate he was a ‘Thieving Frenchy’?