Last weekend I drove down to Hynam and spent a couple of days with my brother and sister-in-law at Langkyne, the property I grew up on. Just three-and-a-half hours south of Adelaide, it's always nostalgic going back and I am thankful that I am still able to revisit my childhood home, which is full of happy memories. At first light on Sunday morning I crept out of the house, pulled on my rubber boots and went for a long walk around the vineyards and across the paddocks, as I always do when I visit. There is something incredibly special about being under ...
On Toasting Forks & Wood Stoves
The house is still asleep as my father lights the fire in the slow combustion stove; an Everhot that lives up to its name. A barrow load of wood sits outside the back door to fuel the day, red gum swiftly split with an axe. By the time he has fed the sheepdogs and milked the cow the kitchen is warm and the coals are red hot. He slices a loaf of bread, threads a slice onto the prongs of the long toasting fork, opens the door to the fire and gently holds the bread near the coals, not too ...