SMALL WONDER
Hobart’s tiny neighbourhood gem offers relaxed paddock-to-plate dining, writes KARLIE VERKERK.
There must be something in the water, and the soil, and the air, in Tasmania. Well, it’s no secret to locals, but us mainlanders are starting to catch on. The creativity and talent thriving in our most southern state seems particularly palpable right now. Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve had time to stop and smell the roses in our own backyard. Whatever the reason, it’s enough to make you want to book a flight to see what all the fuss is about.
Once you do, your first stop should be Templo – a teeny, tiny Italian-ish eatery unceremoniously wedged between a car park and a dry cleaner. It’s wonderfully approachable and unfussy, and has become something of a modern classic among Hobart’s dining enthusiasts. Of course, there are newer, shinier places in town, but they’re yet to nail the just-dropped-intoa-mate’s-place vibe that you get here.
To say the 20-seat dining room is compact would be an understatement
– I have seen bigger studio apartments in Sydney – nevertheless, it’s a drawcard not a deterrent. When you’re huddled inside, sheltered from fierce katabatic winds, seated shoulder to shoulder with charming Taswegians, there’s really nowhere else you’d rather be.
Take a peek into the kitchen, which is even smaller again, and you’ll be amazed by the quality of food being produced. There’s real collaboration happening between chefs Sam Smith and Ryan Watson, who craft seasonal dishes that continue to strengthen Templo’s paddock-to-plate ethos. Whether it’s a stack of glossy roasted carrots atop anchovy cream, or leeks that have been cooked down to buttery, translucent ribbons, each dish oozes with appreciation; something that can only be achieved by people who truly care about where that particular vegetable came from, and the story behind it. It seems simple, but it’s not easy to get right.
The chef’s menu is scrawled on a blackboard above the pass; there are five courses that change weekly and you have the option to add an extra off-menu dish, if you feel so inclined. Take my word for it, always order the extras. Today it might be locally caught mackerel, chargrilled and served escabeche-style. Tomorrow, a gracefully cut beef tartare.
One thing is guaranteed, there will always be a plate of pasta in the mix. Perfect parcels of cappellacci perhaps, which are filled with delicata squash from Fat Carrot Farm no more than 30 kilometres away. Or a squid ink spaghettini, where the squid is cut into long, thin strips so that everything combines in a sexy, slippery tangle. Italian food is romantic after all.
Wines favour low-intervention labels, and the drinks matching offers an opportunity to try something you may not have tried before.
Otherwise, in true neighbourhood style, you can bring your own bottle for $20.
So I guess the secret is well and truly out: the water is pure, the soil is rich, the air is clear, and the food is damn tasty in Tasmania.