By Barbara Santich
At the First Symposium of Australian Gastronomy the
password was loud and clear: Brillat-Savarin. Decipherment was more difficult
at the Second Symposium, among the murmurings of Athenaeus and Epicurus and - sotto voce - foodie, although the
symposium had an official, and occasionally addressed, theme: Foodism -
Philosophy or Fad? Debate on this question seemed to founder, no doubt because
the perceived notion of foodism implied a total lack of any philosophical
foundation, and the informal discussion planned for the drinking party after
the spit-roast lamb dissolved into a crossfire of airy questions (can writers
cook? can cooks write?) which abruptly ceased at the well-staged entry of the
drunken revellers (who represented either Alcibiades or the party-ers who
followed him through the open door). The audience was momentarily stunned and
deceived, some angry at the interruption, some amused, some completely taken
in; 'My, you sobered up quickly!' was a comment to one of the actors.
The foregoing perhaps trivialises the symposium, at
which important contributions were made: an outline of the gastronomic
tradition established by Athenaeus, and continued by Platina and Brillat-Savarin;
an exposition of the philosophical doctrines of Epicurus; and the postulating
of a theoretical foundation for gastronomy. The vague musings of the first
symposium, as to whether gastronomy was an art, or a science, or somehow both
at the same time, appeared to have yielded a result; several speakers had
arrived independently at the same conclusion, that gastronomy was neither an
art nor a science but rather an ethic, a guide to an art of living.
Not all the papers were so philosophically abstract.
One of the more important presentations concerned Aboriginal food traditions,
which, significantly, showed a gastronomic awareness. Another reported on the
possible commercialisation of the quandong, one of the few enjoyably edible
indigenous fruits (cooked, it is said to taste like a mixture of apple and
rhubarb cooked with strawberry jam). Yet another suggested how restaurateurs
might help their customers stay under the legal limit for blood alcohol without
detracting from their pleasures.
The meals at the symposium are intended to say as
much as the formal sessions. Thus, preceding a discussion on markets was a
visit to the soon-to-be-relocated wholesale market (eerily empty, save the odd
parked car and a large cage of pumpkins) and a 'butcher' of beer in one of the
market pubs (entered from the market through a secret side door). Lunch was at
Ruby's Cafe, a market institution which, under the original Ruby (Jones),
served hearty steak-and-eggs breakfasts to the farmers. The market theme was
carried through by the serving staff, costumed as carrots and slim yellow
bananas and curly, green-headed broccoli.
The following day - in perfect spring sunshine -
lunch was a relaxed, on-the-lawn affair at Carclew, a stately if eclectic
mansion in North Adelaide where the formal sessions of the symposium were held.
The foods all related to the papers presented that morning: thus, a selection
of quandongs, pistachios and macadamia nuts; a platter of fresh asparagus with
a dressing of tomatoes, fresh coriander and spices; pickled vegetables, Middle
Eastern style; couscous; a cheese board garnished with a grotesque and phallic
cucumber 'sculpture', the cheeses all stuck with little flags ('Hi! I'm
Sandray!'); and a dish of the ultra-modish kiwi fruit and tamarillos. To explain
the relationship of each of these dishes to the words that went before would be
tedious; besides, the Proceedings give all the answers.
It would be wrong to assume the symposium was one
big binge, starting with the Pie Tea, to which participants contributed pies of
their own making, ranging from a Pheasant and Chicken Pie to an Apple Pan
Dowdy. Acceptance of the gastronomic ethic implies moderation and
discrimination, both on the part of the participants and the providers, and the
organisers would be failing in their task if they ignored the principles
(naturally, they didn't!). The meals were an integral part of the symposium,
but equally important were the paper presentations and the ensuing discussions,
and the camaraderie of an event at which restaurateurs and doctors, scholars
and cooking teachers, caterers and writers can meet and exchange ideas.
The final session looked back over the eighteen
months since the First Symposium and to the future. Among the offspring of the
First Symposium were the planned gastronomic directories for the Barossa Valley
and Melbourne areas, and the Symposium Newsletter. Plans for the future extend
to a third gathering, probably in Melbourne. Then, to conclude: The Australian
Dinner - 'fifties' hors d'oeuvres of things stuck on toothpicks stuck into
oranges, and bacon-wrapped prunes; then a selection of local seafood, lightly
steamed, with sauvignon blanc wines from Hardy's and Wirra Wirra; then roast,
rare kangaroo ('best piece of beef I've had for years!' was one comment) with
Blue Pyrenees Estate and Mount Mary Vineyard Cabernet; and a dessert of
quandong tart, with the Hardy collection beerenauslese. Throughout the dinner,
the soft and gentle wafting of a harp, and before dessert, a dramatic interlude
- impressions of eating in Australia, selected from Australian writings over
the past century.
Richard Twopenny wrote, in 1883, that if the French
eat, and the English only feed, then the Australians merely 'grub'. He could
never say the same about contemporary Australians - or could he?