mascarpone and blackberry cake

Amidst my Australian book launch frenzy and the heat wave of late summer crashing its way through the beginning of autumn, there have been berries. First blueberries, which are quickly heading out of season, then raspberries, which my daughter will gobble before anyone else even has a chance to look at them. And finally blackberries, which she won’t touch, so I get to have them. I even attempted... Read More

florentine-the-making-of-IMG_7371

It’s officially out! We launched Florentine last week and the cookbook has started arriving on shelves. It’s finally out there. Now that it is, and this huge project, which began two years ago, is out there for everyone to see, I feel the urge to talk about the wonderful people who I worked with to make it what it is, because it is very much a collaborative project — from the publishing... Read More

Lunch at Baciarino

Imagine a hill side covered with oak and olive trees that ramble down to the sea, and a 180 degree view of these rolling, lolling hills that fade into the distance to that thin, silvery sliver of water on the horizon. This is what you see when you step out of the door at Il Baciarino, a beautiful hideaway of four very private, very lovely hand-built cottages (hand-built, yes, because modern tractors... Read More

Florentine the cookbook

Two years ago I received an email from a publisher asking if I would like to make a cookbook. It was a wild, far fetched dream of mine come true. And finally, it’s here – an ode to the city where I met my soul mate, started my blog and feel most at home. To celebrate the release of the book, I have a series of events lined up in Melbourne, Sydney and Canberra. They are the sort of things that... Read More

Martini Rosso Cocktail

Exactly ten years ago I noticed this cute boy behind a bar noticing me. It was a freezing February afternoon in Florence. I had just flown in from summery Sydney and my friend Audrey, a striking French girl, was insisting I come out and meet her for a drink. Despite my excuse of jet lag, she wouldn’t let up. And she’s quite the persuasive type. So I dragged myself out of my cosy, shoebox... Read More