by Martin Field

Nuts are a favourite accompaniment to wine. They are delicious when served with bubbly and other aperitifs and a plate of nuts and dried fruit is obligatory when savouring a vintage port after dinner.

But did you ever notice that in any bowl of mixed nuts, in shell or not, certain varieties are always eaten in exactly the same order of preference?

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by Martin Field

Pickled eggs ‘n Scrumpy
I was telling Beery Mag about getting legless on scrumpy (a strongly alcoholic rustic cider) on the morning of a mate’s wedding many years ago.

We rode borrowed motor bikes down narrow hedgerowed lanes near Rockwell Green in Taunton, Somerset, and stopped for morning tea at a quaint little tavern that sold cider.

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by Martin Field

Barbecued lamb flaps in Alice Springs
Lamb flaps, as I remember, were barbecuing over a smoky wood fire, near the old water hole at the Alice Springs Telegraph Station. Our hosts were members of the Pitjantjatjara and Tangentyere people and one of the guests was Peter Brook, visiting the Alice following his involvement in the 1980 Adelaide Festival.

As dusk turned to dark, a local guitarist played Slim Dusty songs and we sat around drinking beer and wine, chewing the fat and gnawing the lamb in the sandy, waterless, riverbed.

Afterwards there was a party in town in honour of Peter. He asked if he could get a lift there with us.

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind riding in back of the Moke with Kali the Blue Heeler.’ Here I should mention that there were no seats in the rear of our yellow Mini Moke, rather an uncomfortable metal shelf, and no seat belts.

He didn’t mind, and we were treated to the sight of this eminent director, no doubt used to more luxurious transport, crawling onto his uncomfortable ‘seat’ while the dog licked his face in welcome.

He survived the trip and we partied on.

by Martin Field

Two Faces Restaurant
In the early 1970s, Two Faces was Melbourne’s, perhaps Australia’s, best restaurant. Run by that great restaurateur Hermann Schneider, it offered a classic European menu and an extensive, cosmopolitan wine list.

I well remember my first visit, around 1974. I was so intimidated by its reputation for being expensive that when I rang up to book a table I asked how much a dinner for four with wine might cost. I can’t remember the quote, but it was just affordable.

Four of us turned up in the classy dining room, which was decorated elegantly and conservatively with dinner-suited waiters. The menu listed one dessert as, ‘Mangoes in Champagne’. Two of our party asked the waiter if they could have this as an entrée. ‘Certainly Ladies,’ he replied.

Back then, it was not possible to obtain fresh mangoes in Victoria, due to plant and fruit fly quarantine laws. My pushy friend Claire said, ‘We don’t want them if they’re not fresh, I don’t like tinned mangoes.’

‘Madarme!’ He was horrified at the suggestion. ‘Madahme,’ he accentuated the last syllable as he glanced around conspiratorially. ‘Madame,’ he whispered. ‘It is illegal… but they are fresh.’ Then, even more quietly, ‘We fly them in on a private plane.’

This was the beginning of a magnificent dinner, accompanied by excellent wine. We went back over the years for special occasion dinners and damned the expense.

by Martin Field

Cr̬me fraiche frequently pops up its tangy head in recipes broadcast on English TV cooking shows, but when you go to shop for said recipes this vital ingredient is rarely to be found Рat least on Australian supermarket shelves. When you do find some, it is usually packed in tiny containers carrying a boutique brand name and a hefty price tag.

We asked Beery Mag, our R&D chef for an easy recipe for making crème fraiche in the home kitchen. As usual, she came up with the goods.

Beery: ‘This essential ingredient is not literally fresh but is actually a lovely drop somewhere between fresh and sour cream. To make a batch take about 600mls of fresh cream – though not that hideous thickened cream made with gelatine. Gently heat the cream to body temperature, about 37 degrees centigrade. Use a thermometer – preferably not a rectal one – or a clean finger to test.

‘Stir in about a quarter of a cup of cultured buttermilk. Leave it covered – a soup thermos flask or a yoghurt maker is ideal – at room temperature for 24 hours, then refrigerate. The cream will thicken somewhat and acquire a delicious, slightly acidic tang along with a buttery nutty flavour.’

She advises that her faux crème fraiche will keep in the fridge for a week or more and reckons you can use it in any savoury dish in place of cream and that it goes wonderfully with fresh strawberries. Another of her tips is to create a dessert topping or sauce by beating a cup of the chilled faux crème fraiche with a third of a cup of chilled botrytised white and half a teaspoon of pure vanilla essence. Yummy.

‘Use the leftover buttermilk in place of milk when making pancakes and muffins. They’ll taste just gorgeous’ added Beery – who tends to gush occasionally.

by Martin Field

‘Do you miss Melbourne?’ It’s the main question Melbournians and others ask about our move to Noosa. ‘Nah.’ I answer. ‘Could be a greater range of ethnic restaurants up here. But nah. The things I like about Melbourne are just fading away as I become more acclimatised to the sub tropics, the warm surf and the local lifestyle.’

And the local attractions are many. For example, it’s only a short stroll to the Sunshine Beach Surf Club for a pot of Coopers Pale Ale and a spot of whale watching from their terrace bar. And then there’s the Noosa Farmers Market. We go there every Sunday morning early. Early because the bloke with the perfect tomatoes for five bucks a kilo sells out quickly.

One of the delights of the market is watching the customers. Many locals of course, and tourists from all over. Kens and Barbies from Miami or Noo Joizy in matching candy-striped playsuits. And there is a certain Noosa type that always catches the eye.

Take a typical couple: one’s hair is shortish and permed, bottle blonded with shady roots. The face bears a jaundiced solarium tan and a smile that is really a grimace, driven by one too many facelifts. The eyebrows for the same reason are raised in permanent enquiry. Unfortunately, the taut skin above is belied by the turkey wattle below. The body is typically clad in a colourful but saggy top and a pair of ‘does my bum look big in these?’ designer jeans, best worn by teenagers. As for his good lady wife…well, enough said.

Strangely, when I described this species to our Gold Coast friends they said they were probably from Toorak. Our Sydney friends said they sounded like Gold Coasters. Our Melbourne friends said they’d met many people like that from Sydney’s north shore. You just can’t tell.

And, as you wander through the crowded stalls, a strange but likeable fragrance wafts by. A whiff of frying pancakes blends with the pungency of patchouli oil adorning ageing hippies down from the hills. This in turn mingles with a miasma of Chanel No 5 dabbed extravagantly on Noosa socialites. Next you notice the rich roasting aromas swirling from the Auswana coffee stand, along with top notes distilled by the hot morning sun from the multitude of surrounding eucalypts. Just having breakfasted, your nose is already triggering thoughts of what’s for lunch.

Noosa is a noticeably expensive area but the prices at the market are surprisingly low. Sourced from the Sunshine Coast and the hinterland, much of the fruit and veg is organic, or at least spray free, and often cheaper than that sold at local supermarkets – and presumably much fresher.

Last week we bought eight Tahitian limes for $2. Three beautiful big fresh ears of corn for $2.50. Some ‘Swiss’ style Tilsit from the Fromart cheesery for $31 the kilo. Then there were the punnets of strawberries, netted bags of macadamia nuts in shell, tangy passionfruit at giveaway prices, free wine tastings and other lovely stuff in abundance.

The Noosa Farmers Market is a feast and it’s fun. If you’re in Noosa for any reason at all, you cannot afford to miss it. Sundays until noon at the footy ground, Weyba Rd Noosaville. Plenty of parking.