Retrospective Review - A Love Letter (or elegy) to Van Bone
House guanciale, white asparagus, and a recipe for chicken liver parfait with cherries
Note: This trip was taken September of 2023. Some things may have changed about these venues — this is a retrospective recount, some of which was written then, some written now.
When we returned to the mainland, I wondered how long it must take for things to ship to the little island of good air. Such mundane thoughts are superseded by memories of dishes cooked with produce that trumps most things I’ve eaten this year (and it’s October!). Tasmanian restaurants are completely different to Melbourne, Sydney, and most of all, Brisbane restaurants. The seasonality that is harped on about nowadays was palpable at the places we dined.
(On that, I feel like ‘seasonal menus’ has been thrown around and reduced to a dry, brown layer of fat and salt. Yes, it can mean changing a menu every season, and sure, every restaurant should say they have a seasonal menu if they’re making an effort, however, there is nothing seasonal about having the same ‘dressed leaves’, kingfish crudo and grilled spatchcock all year around — only to change the sauce or garnish once every six months.)
Most of the food I ate in Tasmania made sense. Often, when a dish feels so stilted and out of place, it’s, “confusing” or “doesn’t make sense”. This can be to do with the dish’s components being paired poorly or the dish’s nature in the venue’s context.
For Tasmania, maybe it was the soil, maybe it was the air, or maybe it was the company. Regardless, that is a perfect equation for a great dining experience: good soil, good air and a loved one.
When I got home, I had come to terms with the fact that I wouldn’t eat at a place like Van Bone for at least a year (2025 sidenote: or ever again, since they’re now closed). Heartbreaking? Yes. Humbling? Also yes.
If you ever get the chance to go there (2025 me: again, sorry you won’t be able to. You should be sad), I would seize it with both hands.
Farm-to-table concepts have been around for a while now, but the finesse at this place makes you wonder if some of the other restaurants boasting their FTT concept even deserve to.
Things I loved about Van Bone:
The paper-thin guanciale (so shiny and translucent, like resin) draped over asparagus and hollandaise reminded me that cured meat doesn’t always have to be a thick and mouthy experience. Also, house-cured.
Why don’t more fine dining restaurants have a draw of grandmother’s antique cutlery?
A bee’s knees cocktail made with Their House Honey.
Golden squash as decorations — it makes a lot of sense.
The local duck. As local as it gets, this duck tasted like no other I’d ever had. Surprisingly lean and very gamey. The owner, Laura (a very charismatic and warm host) during her spiel pointed into the near distance to indicate where the ducks lived.
The garden walk before dessert. We saw the chickens (one was stuck in a blueberry bush) and their beautiful veg. The view of the Bream Creek horizon was unmatched.
Hands down the best dessert I’ve had (in this country — Rita in Wellington is first worldwide): a malt bread ice cream with honeycomb and the duck fat caramel. I think about it a lot.
It is soul-crushing that this venue no longer exists. For someone who’s visited Tasmania a handful of times, Van Bone felt like a true personification of everything good it has to offer. It had a kind of no-frills elegance I’d never experience before — and when paired with the landscape and the brisk air, makes you sad it won’t last forever.
Other great places in Tasmania of note include:
The white asparagus and cuttlefish dish at Dier Makr — a wonderful degustation restaurant (and very anti-John Lethlean as evidenced by a blackboard).
The Templo communal table. Though small and sits about four people, the vases are placed strategically to offer some privacy if you’re two groups of two, and if you’re lucky to be the ones facing the pass, you can see the chefs cooking from a hole in the wall the food comes out of.
Cyclo Vietnamese Restaurant in North Hobart. We got takeaway here whenever we didn’t have a reservation somewhere (2-3 occasions). Fantastic combination pho.
Lucinda wine bar’s chicken liver parfait. I made my own version last Christmas because I often think about the brilliance of pairing liver parfait with cherry jam/coulis — recipe below.
The potato rosti at Trumpet Room.
Chicken Liver Parfait with Cherry (inspired by Lucinda Wine Bar)
A creamy chicken liver parfait with saucy cherries — not quite a jam or a coulis, but juicy, sticky cherries reduced in their own sauce. Excellent with a glass of chilled red and a few olives.
Serves: 2
INGREDIENTS
500g chicken livers
8 TBSP unsalted butter
2 sprigs thyme
1/3 cup dry sherry
2 shallots, finely minced
2 TBSP EVOO
2 cups fresh cherries, pitted
1 cup sugar
Lemon juice
Salt and pepper
Sweat the shallots down in EVOO in a medium pot. Add the thyme, sherry and livers and cook until just pink inside, 5 minutes. Remove from pot and blend with a stick blender or in a food processor, adding cold butter one tablespoon at a time. Season to taste.
For the cherry element, cook pitted cherries with sugar and lemon until reduced, on med-low about 15-20 minutes. Set aside to cool.
Plate with parfait on the bottom and cherries and their juices on top. Eat with toasted baguette or seeded cracker.