A superb blue sky day just outside Hobart, soaking up the green and blue of a blueberry orchard. Carl spends every day there. He knows he’s a lucky man.
Walking home laden from the Bathurst Street Farmgate markets, pastries waft into my brain. Daci and Daci pastries in fact.
I took in bucolic, rolling countryside with an old shearer’s quarters and shed at the top of the hill, with TWAMLEY FARM painted proudly on the roof.
Hobart is like a great lady of the burlesque. She’s constantly teasing, revealing, and always her colourful history informs the smallest detail.
A cosy sit by the fireplace, even in summer? Great pizza, flavours, and atmosphere. Hearth ticked our boxes and then some.
If there’s too much confusion, you need relief, and what better than some really good comedy? Even better still if it’s Jokers at the Polish Club.
If you want a change from the street food at the Farm Gate markets in Bathurst Street, where do you go? Ha, just round the corner and into Criterion.
Ever wonder what fruit picking as a job is like? It’s a hard way to make a living. And picking strawberries, so soft and low, must be the hardest.
Behind the farm gate or over the fence and down the lane? Hobart’s Bathurst Street Farmgate Market delivers the goods in spades. Literally.
This was a birthday lunch, and with two dear friends visiting from Melbourne, the celebration called for a special place. Frogmore Creek Vineyard it was.