Squirrel Pie (And Other Stories) by Elisabeth Luard

Author:Elisabeth Luard [Luard, Elisabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781620409978
Google: CrlirgEACAAJ
Published: 2016-04-05T10:43:55.791794+00:00

Sunsets are spectacular everywhere on the island, but in the west, a coastline rimmed by pink granite cliffs capped by dense green forest beneath which blue waters churn white, the sun drops like a stone in a blaze of ruby and gold to the end of the world.

The stormy west coast is mountainous, heavily forested and still sparsely inhabited, attracting backpackers and nature-lovers to camp out on the beach or take advantage of the little settlements of rough shelters left over from the days of the convict shipbuilders. One or two of the abandoned settlements have been converted into boutique hotels, where adventurous chefs from the mainland are experimenting with forest gleanings.

As soon as the bus turns off the highway on to a bumpy forest track through eucalyptus woods, it comes to a halt at a pretty whitewashed lodge surrounded by a cluster of log cabins. When we descend from the bus and make our way into the lodge to collect our room keys, Margie has an announcement. There is news, both bad and good.

The bad news is that the chef is away on the mainland at a bush-tucker conference, where his expertise in forest gleanings is expected to cause a sensation. The good news is that, to make up for any disappointment caused by the unavailability of the featured expertise, drinks are on the house and dinner is on the barbie.

Mention of the barbie gives pause for thought. But with good humour and Tassie’s appetite for indelicacy restored, the announcement triggers a short burst of tasteless barbie jokes.

Dinner on the barbie, Margie continues with a frown at the more unruly of the jokesters, will feature hamburgers and sausages with – accompanied by a quick glance in my direction – a vegetarian option.

I laugh appreciatively as a demonstration of a Pom’s ability to take a joke.

‘Good on you,’ whispers Muriel, patting my hand. Muriel is an enthusiastic admirer of The Two Fat Ladies, recycled on loop on Tassie’s TV station. When I admit to a passing acquaintance with the famous ladies, both sadly deceased, our friendship is sealed.

The mood among the group is further lifted by cans of cold beer and glasses of chilled white wine embellished with small blue flowers. These I know to be a member of the flax family, one of the few edible plants recognised by the settlers, valued for its oily little seeds as a source of frying-oil.

Muriel, asked for confirmation, agrees that this is indeed so, although her mother told her that pounding the tiny seeds was hard work for little gain. Her grandmother, she adds, used the fibrous stalks for weaving sturdy linen cloth of a far higher quality than is available today.

Refreshed and cheerful, the company disperses to inspect the accommodation in anticipation of unlimited free drinks and a hot meal of recognisable provenance.

The cabins have been comfortably modernised and equipped with en-suite shower rooms. A shower is more than welcome, and by the time I rejoin the group, the party is already in full swing.

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