This was published 13 years ago
Red Feather Inn, Tasmania: School is in, with saucy bits
The Red Feather Inn's decor is distinctly Provencal.
The Red Feather Inn combines French-style luxury, convict history and a chef who loves to share his passion for paddock-to-plate cuisine, writes Sam Vincent.
IF IT'S true that people grow to resemble their pets, Lee Christmas is in deep trouble. The head chef and manager at Tasmania's Red Feather Inn, Christmas rears Wessex saddleback pigs, a breed of mud-stained scrap-snuffler that won't be winning any beauty contests at this year's Royal Hobart Show.
"That may be so," Christmas says, "but they certainly taste beautiful!" Christmas, you see, has a passion for pork - a passion that overrides any sentimental attachment to his pets (one boar is even named Barry White), meaning this rare breed, known for the charcuteries they produce, features regularly on the inn's menu.
It's all part of the philosophy at Red Feather Inn, a boutique hotel and cooking school with an emphasis on paddock-to-plate cuisine sourced from the establishment's nearby farm and potager garden. Occupying a restored Georgian coach house in the Launceston satellite of Hadspen, the inn first opened its doors to travellers in 1844 as one of the major rest stops on the road south to Hobart Town, a role it played for nearly 150 years before falling into disrepair in the 1990s.
Lovingly restored by Cordon Bleu-trained chef and Francophile Lydia Nettlefold, Red Feather Inn reopened in 2008 as a luxurious getaway with a distinct Provencal flavour. The three convict-built sandstone buildings accommodate 14 guests in five rooms: three two-room suites with king or queen-size bed, en suite bathroom and dining room; and two deluxe rooms with these features plus extra space.
Each suite has a distinct theme (the Library Suite, the Garden Suite, the Red Feather Room) but all evoke images of southern France, with crystal-drop chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, Alessi wall clocks and framed Provencal linens decorating the hallways.
I'm staying in the Library Suite, where a plush bedroom decorated with antique furniture opens to an en suite dominated by a vast freestanding bath-tub; the adjacent shelves brim with Molton Brown bath treats. Downstairs on the mezzanine level, a kitchenette stands beside the living room, one wall of which is packed with books (en Francais, bien sur), though instead of Sartre or Saint-Exupery, airport novels are the order of the day. Even the telly has a French flavour: when I press the remote the news from Paris blares into the room via SBS Two.
Having arrived late on Christmas's night off, I find the kitchen is closed, so he generously lends me his GPS and books me a table at Stillwater, Launceston's - and arguably Tasmania's - premier restaurant. Housed in a converted mill on the Tamar River, Stillwater's interior, wine list and menu wouldn't be out of place in a trendy Melbourne or Sydney eatery, reflecting Launceston's status as a foodie centre.
I order the $85 menu consisting of an entree of seared Spring Bay scallops on silken tofu followed by a main of braised Harris Farm rabbit tartlet, both of which are delicious. The highlight of my meal, however, is dessert: rose-water panna cotta accompanied by Lindt chocolate pave, pistachio and Tamar Valley rose-petal praline, served with rose-water mousse.
The resulting taste combination is velvety smooth, rich and as refreshing as a skinny dip on a hot summer's day.
Back at the inn, I awake the next morning to the cooing of turtle doves outside my window and a pang of panic I haven't experienced since I was 18: I'm late for school.
Getting Saucy is one of 17 cooking classes offered at Red Feather Inn, taught by chef Christmas in a cottage overlooking the inn's carefully manicured garden. After wolfing down my breakfast (Bircher muesli and stewed fruit; eggs and Wessex saddleback bacon is available upon request), I rush over the lawns to the classroom where three other apprentice cooks have already donned aprons and are peering over an aromatic cooking pot. In a kitchen just as Gallic as the inn (copper pots hang from the rafters; paintings of fromage decorate the walls), we watch as Christmas stirs three pots: chicken, fish and beef stock. These, he informs us, represent the basis of most savoury sauces and when combined with "roux" (thickener of butter and flour), they make French-style veloute.
Christmas is a man on a quest to bring sauce-making back into the repertoire of Australian home cooks, something he thinks has been lost due to "wanker chefs who deter people from having a go, with all their talk of 'jus' and 'infusions' ". In reality, he says, it's not that hard, "once you know the tricks".
Learning those "tricks" is what the class is all about. Notebooks to the ready, we peer over Christmas's steaming pots, listen and learn. We are told of the "holy trinity" of stocks - celery, onions and carrots - and that in order to make a clear stock you must continually "skim the scum" off the top and avoid boiling the liquid. Veal bones, we learn, are better than beef bones because they have less fat; a roast-chicken carcass has more flavour than raw bones and when it comes to bone colours, black means bitter. It feels as if a magician is revealing his secrets to his audience.
After a quick lunch of baked blue-eye cod served with Christmas's fish veloute, it's time for the apprentices to take over the kitchen.
Our aim is to make that nemesis of many a Sunday-morning amateur chef: hollandaise.
The key, Christmas says, is to carefully emulsify the yolks, vinegar and butter without overheating it, thus avoiding ending up with scrambled eggs.
After one perfect attempt by apprentice one and a (scrambled) failure by apprentice two, I'm up to the cooking plate, as it were. Like a pushy parent yelling from the sidelines, Christmas urges me on as I furiously whisk the yolks with a dash of vinegar, all the while keeping an eye on the saucepan of hot water beneath.
As I carefully add the melted butter, a ghoulishly bright sauce begins to emerge - success! I stop whisking, taste and am reminded of what Christmas said about his pigs: not pretty but delicious.
The writer was a guest of Tourism Tasmania.
Trip notes
Where Red Feather Inn, 42 Main Street, Hadspen. (03) 6393 6506, redfeatherinn.com.au.
How much Double rooms from $295 a night including breakfast; cooking classes from $195 a person.
Best thing The mammoth bath in the Library Suite. It doesn't so much resemble a washtub as a dinosaur egg cut in half.
Worst thing Poor garden lighting means I have to resort to mobile-phone-illuminated hedge vaulting to get back to my room after dinner.
Don't miss Splurging at Stillwater. stillwater.net.au.
- Sun-Herald
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