THE AMERICANS ARE COMING!
It couldn’t be a more Australian setting. The Melbourne Arts Centre its illuminated spire atop its dome—the blue hue beaming a subliminal message of cultural significance across the city—nestled against the Yarra River and overlooking the Botanical Gardens.
Traditionally though our hosts tend to champion another city; the New York Times is in town eager to solicit some Australian allegiance. The Times are setting up an Australian Bureau, and their aim is to promote a keen interest in all things Antipodean. Their planned expanded coverage will include global issues directly impacting Australia, and they have identified key issues as climate change, migration, gender, international politics and economics. But if your desire is to entice a Melbourne audience then there can be no better accomplice than food. Their bait successfully identified; the Times spares no effort in securing their prey.
Local New York Times subscribers have been invited to an evening of conversation with Ben Shewry from Melbourne’s Attica Restaurant and Sam Sifton, the food editor of the New York Times. The initial seduction looks to be successful, and a couple of hundred people throng the lobby of the venue.
It is a chilly Autumn evening, and black is the colour of choice. Tousled yet choppy haircuts and artfully placed highlights abound. Handbags have a hipster edge, but their leather affirms at least a brush with an unknown high-end designer. An array of expensive eyewear belies an audience less millennial and more baby boomer. If liberalism can claim a fashion look, it is on full display this evening. I doubt many Trump supporters are in attendance.
Ben Shewry, from Attica, keeps faith with this trend in a black suit with a T-shirt but the blue suede shoes reveal a hint of individuality. Sam Sifton is in a conservative mode with a tie and jacket juxtaposed with a pair of casual beige chinos. Perhaps a subtle nod to counter current thinking that conservatives and liberals cannot work together?
Ben believes you should be true to yourself. Never follow the crowd and don’t copy. Possibly that explains those blue suede shoes? He has a passionate interest in the disconnect between local indigenous ingredients and cuisine in Australia. He is adamant that Australia has spent 250 years worshipping ingredients from afar while ignoring our own and he is curious why? He ponders if guilt is the reason. Ben though has no plans to tell people what to do. Lecturing customers is not something he aspires to, and he believes it often results in the opposite effect. Restaurants mired in pomposity do not appeal and only succeed in making the restaurant feel self-important. Sam vehemently declares he has been to that restaurant in various forms and not once did he enjoy the experience. Ben's philosophy is if you taste something you like you will want to find out more about it, and he and his staff are always happy to oblige if asked. Pull them in with seduction, not with instruction is their mantra.
The garden he set up at Rippon Lea Estate is a tribute to indigenous Australia plants. Sam recalls a tour he took with Ben. "What about the mission impossible plum Ben?"
To Sam, it was an entirely good plum, ready for eating. But Ben is more exacting and demands the plum is harvested at precisely the right moment and eaten within a few hours of picking otherwise the eucalypt notes can be too intense. It turns out timing is everything. Could the plum be a metaphor for life?
Ben wants to use indigenous food to wake people up and engage them in a new yet old Australian food heritage. He recounts the challenges of trying to buy indigenous ingredients when he began. How could it be easy to buy Thai basil but not a local quandong?
Sam takes questions from the audience. “ What does Ben think of the food blogger versus the food critic?” Sam is obliged to make a comment. After all, he was the New York Times food critic for 2 ½ years. "There are restaurant critics, and then there is the madding crowd. Two separate things!" Ben reveals it was the Australian Good Food Guide that made him move from New Zealand to Australia years ago. The description of the food and restaurants convinced him it was the place to be. Sam unsurprisingly concurs on the importance of food critics. “Are phones problematic in restaurants? Are photos a problem? Should they be banned?” an audience member asks. Ben thinks not, but he does believe it creates unrealistic images on Instagram. "Food is not always beautiful although we spend a lot of time making it that way," he says.
Sam wraps up the discussion, and the audience meanders through to the bar. The hospitality is impressive. Copious amount of free prosecco and cabernet sauvignon are flowing, and the crowd are more than happy to imbibe. A seemingly endless stream of dim sum emerges from the kitchen while the conversation turns to politics and journalistic endeavours. It is certainly an irony that in a discussion championing the connection of all things indigenously Australian that the canape of choice is anything but.
And a successful night of inducement concludes. The New York Times has triumphantly connected its narrative across two continents. Beguile with words. Entice with wine. Seduce with food. It turns out there is nothing like a little brand building to warm you up on a brisk Autumn evening.
