Australian Cuisine: What, Where & Why

Australian Cuisine: What, Where & Why

Australia simply didn't have time to sit back and wait for a homegrown cuisine to evolve in the traditional way. So we borrowed an Anglo-Saxon way of eating that had little to do with where, what, or who we happened to be. We learned, of necessity, to include what was in our natural larder.

The incredibly vast landmass of Australia means that somewhere in the country is a microclimate that is suitable for producing whatever we feel like eating, from the tropical fruit and sugarcane fields of northern Queensland to the grazing pastures and citrus groves of the temperate Riverina and Riverland areas, to the cool-climate dairy products of Victoria and Tasmania. It also didn't take us too long to realize that a country surrounded by water is a country surrounded by oysters, clams, crabs, lobsters, prawns, and fish.

The next great influence came from the southern Europeans who came to this country as refugees after World War II. Many were Spaniards, Greeks, and Italians, people who had lived with coastal breezes in their veins and whose lives and foods had been warmed by the Mediterranean sun.

But the emergence of a truly identifiable Australian way of eating came when we finally realized in the late 1970s that it was actually Asia's doorstep we were on, and not England's. These Asian and Mediterranean influences, together with a continual drive for superior produce and a spirit of experimentation, are the major factors that continue to define Australian cuisine. Key dishes can immortalize indigenous produce, such as rare-roasted kangaroo with baby beets, or steamed barramundi with soy and ginger. At the same time, they can totally transform more universal ingredients such as char-grilled Atlantic salmon with preserved lemon and couscous.

But Australian cuisine is no slammed-together grab bag of fusion techniques or ingredients. It's brash, easygoing, big-flavored, fresh, and thoroughly natural. It's Japanese-born Tetsuya Wakuda's impossibly silky ocean trout confit with trout roe and konbu seaweed at Tetsuya's in Sydney, or Malaysian native Cheong Liew's bravely conceived braised chicken with sea scallops, veal sweetbreads, roasted fennel, and black moss at the Grange restaurant in Adelaide.

This is the sort of cooking that has made Australia a modern culinary force, and stamped Sydney as one of the three current food capitals of the world, along with New York and London. Let the academics ponder if it is a true cuisine or just a lifestyle. The rest of us will do the only sensible thing: head off to a great Australian restaurant and make up our own minds.