THE WIZARD TASTES OF OZ
Kathy Lette swims with dolphins – and hangs out with koalas – as she works up an appetite for a foodie odyssey in Victoria
ARE there any sharks?’ I asked, as nonchalantly as an imminent cardiac arrest would allow. ‘Only one way to find out,’ the laconic Aussie captain grinned, just before he gave me a gentle nudge off the back of the boat and into Victoria’s Port Phillip Bay.
I grabbed hold of the knotted rope trailing behind the motor launch and dangled there like live bait, as the boat bumped through the choppy water.
As if I weren’t in enough of a flap, it was then I saw the fin slicing through the waves. Hmmm, did my travel insurance cover gaping chest wounds, I thought as the fin torpedoed towards me.
I’d just emitted a scream to rival the woman in the shower scene from Psycho when, at the last moment, the huge creature leapt out of the sea… And it was then I saw the reassuring, toothy grin of a bottle-nosed dolphin. Can animals smirk? Because I’m sure I saw it chuckling snidely.
‘Look down!’ the skipper bellowed from the back of the boat.
I shoved my goggled head under the water and gasped. A whole pod of dolphins were turning and churning and zooming around me. Their precision aquatic choreography could have been designed by Busby Berkeley.
The dolphin display was so captivating that I completely forgot to be afraid. For the next few hours I was utterly absorbed in my under- water world as we shadowed the playful pod around the bay.
By the time the skipper hauled me back on deck, the experience of swimming with wild dolphins had left me elated. I suppose you’d have to call it an en-dolphin high.
My only task now was to peel off the wetsuit, which was so tight I was worried I’d be pinged into the air all the way back to Blighty.
As I clung to the boat mast, it took the whole crew to prise me free of its rubbery embrace.
Once dry it was time to wet my whistle. Clearly the local dolphins are called ‘bottle-nosed’ because they live off the coast of Victoria’s prime wine district. The Mornington Peninsula is a magical, emeraldgreen enclave only an hour out of Melbourne. The lush promontory is dotted with boutique vineyards.
Of course, it’s not that I wanted to spend a glorious, sun-drenched day meandering from one mouth-watering wine-tasting to another, but the hot Aussie climate makes hydration essential. It’s imperative to your health to keep drinking. Doctor’s orders! And surely grapes also make up one of your five a day, so that cheeky little sauvignon blanc is practically a health drink, right?
THE rough- and- ready charm of the Aussie vineyard-owners, with a humour as dry as their vintage vino, makes it hard to tear yourself away. But once I’d finally quenched my thirst for witticisms and wine, it was time to explore some more of the great state of Victoria.
Australia is an ancient wilderness with the most unique and exotic wildlife. Penguin- watching on Phillip Island is Australia’s biggest tourist attraction after the Great Barrier Reef. Up to 600,000 visitors a year watch this extraordinary evening ritual when 34,000 penguins waddle from the briny back to their beds. With such a huge audience, it’s no wonder the little birds make the effort to dress up in their dinner jackets.
I next meandered north by car along the ruggedly beautiful coast on a historical road carved into the escarpments by First World War veterans through charming seaside towns and golden, uninhabited beaches.
The Great Ocean Road along the south-west coast is perfumed by the resinous tang of forest, the wind a warm caress of eucalyptus, laced with the spicy scent of sea spray. The trees are dotted with koalas.
But what I’d really come to see were the giant limestone sentinels known as the 12 Apostles, one of Australia’s most celebrated natural landmarks.
The sun was sinking into the Southern Ocean in a tangerine and t urquoise bl aze when I first glimpsed this legendary set of pillars formed by erosion of the surrounding cliffs. In fact, that erosion now means t here are only eight left, but hey, the remaining ones are so evenly placed amid the churning sea that they appear sculpted.
It has always seemed to me that helicopters have one major design error, ie, no wings. But it proved the most breathtaking way to appreciate the geological grandeur below. I gaped in awe as our little chopper buzzed, mosquito-like, around the towering columns, the mighty waves trundling into shore below.
An hour inland lies Birregurra, a
sleepy country town that boasts not just a luxurious hotel but also one of the world’s most innovative restaurants, called Brae.
Many of the dishes included ingredients I’d never tasted before – quandongs, cackleberries, desert yams, mulga apples – making my meal more ‘quiz-uine’ than cuisine.
But these indigenous ingredients, eaten f or t housands of years by the Aborigines but shunned by British settlers, are being rediscovered by adventurous chefs.
The term ‘bush tucker’ may evoke ideas of nibbling on a roo poo pellet in a witchetty grub sauce, but the reality is a creative, fine-dining concoction of delicate delights. What would chef Dan Hunter serve me next, I wondered, about eight courses in? Steak and echidna pie? Vegemite-dipped dingo donger?
Anything was possible. But who cares? It’s best to just let this awardwinning chef have his delicious way with you.
THE state of Victoria is proof of mother nature’s magnanimity. And at its heart is marvellous Melbourne – the southern hemisphere’s culture, comedy, cuisine, cafe and coffee capital. Especially coffee. Melbournians go into meltdown if they’re more than 5ft from a barista.
The city’s sophistication stems from the fact that it was once the richest city in the world. The Victoria Gold Rush in the 1850s brought people pouring into Melbourne from all over the globe. The population grew from a few thousand to half a million overnight.
Where money goes, culture and cuisine will follow. During the 1880 World Fair, normally snobbish British critics raved about the town’s pace and panache. More French champagne was drunk in Victoria than anywhere else on the planet.
The Hotel Windsor started its High Teas in 1883, pre- dating the Savoy. And the Hopetoun Tea Rooms’ floorto-ceiling mirrors were packed in honey to survive the journey from Europe, with horses deployed to lick them clean after they were unpacked at the port.
Now, as a Sydney girl, I’ve always been biased about t he bedazzling beauty of my hometown. If Sydney were a celebrity, it would be Beyoncé. But Melbourne would be Bjork. Yes, Sydney’s the supermodel of cities, but Melbourne’s the quirky, indie girl with the great personality who grows on you.
As a consequence of the Gold Rush, Melbourne is a human minestrone – the city’s home to more than 180 nationalities and 200 languages.
What keeps all these people here? The fact that Melbourne usually wins the accolade as the world’s most livable city, ticking all the boxes for lifestyle, friendliness, culture, public transport ( inner- city trams are free), safety, access to health and education and excellent cuisine.
Melbourne should be renamed Smellbourne, as piquant curry, coffee bean, Thai spice and cheesy fragrances constantly waft streetwards.
For foodies, it’s epicurean aromatherapy. Every city corner offers a new taste sensation.
Ganache make honey chocolate from their own beehives on the roof. At Fitzroy’s Lune cafe, an astrophysicist applies her science degree to making the ‘world’s best croissants’.
But of all of Melbourne’s gastronomic highlights, Attica is the most mind-blowing. There’s a three-month waiting list to dine here, so book early and don’t eat for about a year beforehand. Also make sure to order the degustation menu – this 12- course experience is incredible.
‘All you need to dine with us is an empty belly and an open mind,’ the maître d’ said by way of greeting, and he was so right.
With every new dish, my normally robust brain cells would stagger about bumping into imaginary furniture, mumbling ‘OMG. How can anything taste this good?’
With a different waiter for each
course, plates are deposited and then whisked away with military precision. The cuisine is wittily inventive. For example, the scallops came adorned with a shell depicting a grinning portrait of Lance, the fisherman who’d caught them that morning.
‘It’s a shell-fie,’ I told the waitress, who was now busy dishing up my kangaroo carpaccio… and let me pouch this in no uncertain terms – ‘Yum!’
‘ I’ll definitely be leaving with a spring in my step,’ I tried to tell her, but another waiter was now presenting an array of puddings so perfect they’d induce a heart attack in a sloth. Clearly there was a matching wine served with every course, which explains the deteriorating banter.
At the end of the evening, guests are given a tour of the kitchen and garden to meet the award-winning G. L. G. (Gastronomic Love God), Ben Shewry. Ben then gave us all a magical elixir from the herb garden through which we were strolling.
The gold rush may have ended, but Victoria is still full of nuggets – namely the legendary, laconic locals – national treasures, all.
I heartily suggest that you hit the road and see what gems and rough diamonds you unearth.
Just make sure you swim with the wild dolphins first, because, after sampling all of those gastronomic delights, if you are thrown off the back of the dive boat at the end of your trip, the Japanese will harpoon you as a ‘research’ whale.