This book is dedicated to my incredible family, whose love of fine produce, preserving and cooking is a constant source of inspiration.
I have long wanted to write a sequel to A Year in a Bottle and for the last year I have been well situated to do this, living in these valleys of incredible abundance.
A Year on the Farm is a book about a tree change from a seaside existence, a whole new way of life with a view to a productive future. It follows our first year at our property in Molesworth, mapping the seasonal fruits and vegetables as they passed, and the recipes that we developed along the way. It tells of the school we set up, the people we met, the animals on and around the farm, and our quest for produce.
The back of the book reiterates basics about preserving, and extends those sections from A Year in a Bottle . I have learned a great deal through experimentation and have simplified many of the methods so there is more helpful information, and more tips and tricks for achieving optimum results. The troubleshooting charts have also been updated and expanded.
There are hundreds of new recipes, and a handful that originated in A Year in a Bottle have been modified so they are more easily prepared. I also provide recipes to show how best to use preserves in everyday cooking, not just as a jam on toast or a scone, or a pickle with meat or worse, to leave them sitting unused on the shelf.
There are many recipes for cordial syrups. These are very easy to make and far better than serving people, especially children, additive-laden cordials. Homemade, they can provide nutrients in an easily consumed, acceptable, digestible form.
I have given the methods best suited to bottling each individual fruit. After decades of experimentation Ive worked out the specific temperature to coax the best from each of the respective fruits, by way of appearance and the retention of nutrients.
This last year has certainly been a grand adventure with inevitable challenges along the way. It has most definitely been a learning experience, one of the richest of my life, and I wouldnt have it any other way.
My family and I lived at Eaglehawk Neck, an idyllic corner in the southeast of Tasmania, for over 15 years. Our small brick cottage was where my husband Robert and I brought up our youngest three children and watched them grow into adults with careers and lives and families of their own. The house was set on a steep hillside. The property was a mixture of wetland, rainforest with massive trees and a large cleared area around the house.
From our front balcony we could look out over the ocean to tiny Clydes Island, around past the famous Tessellated Pavement and beyond past the surf beaches and round to the Blowhole. It was an enchanting spot where wildlife abounded. By day wallabies fed near the back door, unafraid, catching the hulls of seeds that dropped to the ground from the parrot feeders we set out each morning. The bird life was a constant moving kaleidoscope of colour and personalities. In summer the cool afternoon sea breezes shielded us from the soaring, intolerable heat, and in winter we never saw a frost. The colder months were my favourite the sea roared and thrashed itself against the massive cliffs, dislodging boulders and changing the seascape in its fury, moving the sand and throwing mounds of seaweed onto the beaches.
However, there was no denying that we were getting older and our children expressed concern for us, encouraging us to think about moving closer to town. It was a great pity: I loved the place. However, I acknowledged their point these days our legs complained about the trudge back up the hill from our weekend walks down to the picturesque Lufra Cove.
There were other reasons too, that crept into mind from time to time.
For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to have a little cooking school. Nothing grand, just a handful of willing participants having fun in a warm and hospitable kitchen. Here Id indulge my favourite types of cooking: preserving, which always gives me that warm sense of plenty, and leads to pantry shelves full of treats for the leaner months; slow cooking, which I love for its nostalgia and convenience; baking with yeast, making sweet treats, gluten-free cooking, which helps the many people who cannot tolerate wheat, oats, rye and barley; and my area of special interest, convict and colonial-era cookery.
It would be a school for the everyday person who just wants to learn, or who simply loves to cook. The school would showcase the abundant wonderful produce we have in Tasmania, increasingly available from farmers markets and farm-gate stalls. The island is a delight for the casual or more serious forager berries, herbs, apples, pears, quince, edible flowers and more are ripe for the picking along riverbanks and down country lanes.
I had tried setting a school up at Eaglehawk Neck but the logistical obstacles defeated me. No suitable land was available, and sufficient tank water would be an issue. Potential participants may well have found the trip from Hobart daunting and chosen instead to bypass us on a day trip to Port Arthur.
This speculation stemmed from the fact that, for as long as I can recall, I have loved to cook. Even more than that, I have a compulsion to cook. Perhaps the seeds were sown in my grandmothers kitchen, where she obviously revelled in baking for family, who frequently came to visit. The aroma of cooking, her good nature, the sense of hospitality, the happiness she showed when sharing the food she had made Im sure they all played their part. She often chatted about her childhood, showed me photos of her parents bakery and the delights they used to bake in early Hobart.