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Third Time’s a Charm

Page 25

by Carrie Clarke

“Look at that. What a beauty.” I pop the net under the thrashing body of the large fish. “How appropriate that you should catch an English perch.”

Jasper looks stunned.

“Do we have to throw this one back?”

“No. First, it’s plenty big enough to eat. Second, English perch is an introduced species and is considered a pest, so we’re not allowed to throw it back. Lucky for us, it’s great eating fish. So breakfast is sorted.”

“Does that mean we have to go back now?” I’m surprised to realise his expression suggests he’s not ready to head back to the winery.

“Not if you don’t want to.”

His eyes track across the fast flowing water to the opposite bank.

“Yeah, actually I’d like to stay a bit. It’s peaceful out here on the water.”

The childhood chant I once used to remind me which way to turn a tap comes to mind. Righty tighty, lefty loosey.

I believe I’ve just witnessed a turn to the left for Jasper Spencer-Jones. And it looks good on him.

Chapter Fifteen

Jasper

Icaught a fish. A damn big one.

That’s not something I ever expected to say. My father and I didn’t have a let’s go fishing kind of relationship.

I also never expected to have to handle baitworms. But since that less-than-pleasant experience resulted in the delicious fish I’m now consuming beside the campfire, I’ll let the grossness go. If I ever get the smell off my hands.

We floated on the river for another half hour or so after I landed my haul, not talking. Just being. Louise caught a couple of carp, which are no good for eating but also can’t be thrown back into the water because of their pest status.

Australia takes its biosecurity very seriously, and until this road trip I hadn’t really understood.

Being so isolated has given them the opportunity to protect their natural environment, their unique flora and fauna, better than most countries. Unfortunately, before anyone realised the damage they would cause, lots of non-native species, like rabbits, foxes and carp, were introduced. And they’ve flourished. To the detriment of the native wildlife.

These days, Australia has a lot of laws and processes in place to try and control these pests. Having seen the land, and spoken to some of the people who live and work on it, I get it now.

“Anyone who tells you fresh-caught fish cooked on an open fire isn’t the best thing ever is a lying liar who lies,” Louise mumbles over a mouthful of flaky white fish, which the chef has fried in butter in an ancient, battered frying pan on a campfire, after spritzing it with lemon and a few herbs.

The fish is accompanied by delicious campfire potatoes and a crusty, steaming damper. It’s without doubt the best breakfast I’ve ever had. Even surpassing yesterday’s amazing steak and eggs.

“I have to agree with you there.” I hold up my coffee mug in a toast.

“I was thinking we could maybe include recipe cards in the pairing programme. So we’re not just telling people what to put with the wines and cheeses and such, but how to cook things that work perfectly with them, and grow in the local area of the winery. I’m working on sourcing some herbs and spices used by Indigenous cooks. What do you think?”

“That’s a great idea. The more value we can add, the better. Especially if it’s things not normally available in your local supermarket.” With each day that goes by, I see more and more value in Louise’s idea. It won’t be the one silver bullet to save the company, but it could certainly be a central pillar. Even if you put aside the potential, Louise’s enthusiasm is infectious.

“Yep. Foodies and winies will love it.” She grins.

I’ve just taken a mouthful of coffee. I try to hold back the laugh, but some dribbles down my chin. At least I didn’t spit it across the fire at the winemaker, Grahame, who is chortling himself at Louise’s nickname.

“Winies? I think we need to come up with a better descriptor than that.”

“Cork dork?” Grahame suggests.

“Grape Nut?” Louise adds. “Oh, I know. Wine Diva.”

The staff, who have joined us around the fire for breakfast, all crack up, including me. I can’t remember the last time I had a good belly laugh. Every muscle unlocks, softens.