The year is 1788, and you, being a fellow of good standing in the colony of NSW, are cordially invited to toast King George III’s birthday with Governor Arthur Phillip at Government House. The menu may include local alternatives to

Where I grew up, the sponge cake was king. I remember this being especially true on birthdays. We would swing by the Women’s Work Depot after school, spend a few moments perusing the cakes that had been delivered by a

Seven years ago when I left Queensland’s Gold Coast, where I studied, I left behind a culinary wasteland: milk bars where the air was thick with vaporised fat, fish and chip shops with blue and white-tiled walls grouted deep with

From its creation, the humble hamburger was defined by precisely that: its humbleness. In the popular imagination, at least until recently, it existed in two forms: the sloppy joe preferred by Archie Comics’ Jughead Jones, the unassuming hamburger of the

Every big city runs on coffee: it is the lifeblood of the office, the boardroom, the stock exchange. A morning without it, as the saying goes, is like sleep. And sleeping is something that many big cities like to assure

Everyone at the table sits silently while the bar’s proprietor sizes me up. His eyebrow is cocked and the corner of his mouth is tight with a mix of suspicion and concern. Five minutes ago I asked him which was his

There comes a time, in the life of a drinker, when a keen but essentially dilettantish interest gives way to full-blown obsession. For one reason or bottle or another, you suddenly find yourself thinking about wine more often, and at