There are very few times you can say someone else’s finger has been up your nose. On this particular day at Mona, however, we’re three cocktails deep in the Like a Rockstar experience. Around our necks we’re wearing heavy chains with a fluoro pink tag, conferring our status to the various staff members, so they can treat us with the respect due famous types.
The finger is that of David Walsh, who spent some of his gambling fortune on building one of the world’s most fun museums. He had his digit cast and now porcelain replicas replace spoons during the first course at Faro Bar + Restaurant. First, you suck a saffron gel from the finger then dip it into hollandaise ice cream served in a ceramic eggshell. It’s messy and silly and sticking said appendage up one’s snout is considered neither strange nor vulgar.
Day one: the arty party
Get an early flight or arrive in Hobart the night before because Like a Rockstar begins at 10am onboard Mona Roma, the gallery’s ferry. Early riser? Grab a quick breakfast at Rosie in My Midnight Dreams, conveniently adjacent to the ferry’s departure point. The anchovy and ricotta toast is a savoury snack good enough to write home about.
Any trip to Mona is an experience, but Rockstar is a level-up. There are drinks and canapés in Mona Roma’s posh pit then a cocktail in Void Bar on arrival. We perch on velvet armchairs before Juan Davila’s incredible yet filthy Arse End of the World while sipping espresso martinis. Then we’re off to the exhibitions, where a Van Gogh self-portrait hangs near a Guerilla Girls print, and for $7 you can put your name on a gallery. We see Jean Tinguel’s Le Sanglier de Roger (Roger’s Boar), a kinetic sculpture featuring the taxidermy head and feet of a wild pig.
At midday we present ourselves for lunch at Faro and leave three hours later, full to the gills and dizzy from having our neurons rearranged by James Turrell’s Seen/Unseen. There’s time to poke around the gallery before more drinks on the 5pm ferry back.
Not done with our day, we stroll to Franko, an open-air food and drink market (December to May) where you can rest upon the grassy knoll of Franklin Square and watch free bands while slurping down Bruny Island oysters and local craft beer.
Day two: country roads
Get set for an early start at your weekend lodgings, uber-luxe The Tasman, where the breakfast spread is epic. Eggs are cooked to order, but everything else is laid out buffet-style, with all ingredients – sour dough, butter, honey, bacon, cheese, milk – labelled with their provenance. It’s the perfect example of chef Massimo Mele’s dedication to elevating Tasmanian produce.
If you haven’t heard, The Tasman was one of only two Australian properties named in the World’s 50 Best Hotels 2024. Its design fuses buildings from three eras: a hospital built in 1841 (where my heritage king room – all plush textures and moody lighting – is located), a 1940s government office building and a contemporary glass pavilion. You could spend all day lounging about, but ask the concierge team about the hotel’s experiences, from epicurean adventures to a wild wellness day, where you head up kunanyi/Mount Wellington for walking, meditation and a cold plunge.
Instead, I’m heading south of Hobart to board Kuuma Nature Sauna. Nathan Gore built a Finnish-style sauna on a pontoon boat and now guests sweat it out while cruising. Nathan then moors in an isolated bay where you leap into the chilly waters. In March, the water temperature is just above 16ºC. “It got to about eight degrees last winter,” Nathan says, as cormorants catch fish behind him. The day is clear and bright, and I can’t think of anything more relaxing than this combination of wellness and nature.
Afterwards, I’ve recruited Tasmanian friends to drive 45 minutes to Marion Bay for lunch at Oirthir. Scottish chefs Bob Piechniczek and Jillian McInnes moved to Australia about eight years ago, working in Melbourne before crossing Bass Strait.
The outlook is exquisite, all bluebird skies, cows in pastures and rugged coastline. Then there’s the food: seven courses blending Scottish tradition, French technique and hyperlocal produce.
“I pick up the oysters on the way here,” Bob tells us after lunch. “And we’ve been working with a local farmer on the lamb.”
The oysters are part of the Failte (“welcome”) plate that also includes woodfired soda bread and seaweed butter. There are blue-lipped mussels and grilled mackerel. The lamb comes with their version of haggis, and dessert is a trick-up version of the Scottish dessert, cranachan. Every detail, from the entryway draped with dried seaweed to the wooden butter knife crafted by Bob’s father, has some connection to the owners or landscape.
Day three: from the sea
Because you can never have too many boat rides or too much food, this morning I’m aboard the Cuttlefish with Tasmanian Wild Seafood Adventures. “Don’t go too hard too early or I’ll bring out the crayfish at the end, you won’t have any room and you’ll be annoyed at me,” advises captain Dan.
That doesn’t stop guests from tucking in to local bubbles and charcuterie as we head to our first stop beneath Alum Cliffs. Here, first mate Wes shows us the abalone people dive for here before slicing and sautéing them for our first course. As we sail on towards Bruny Island, he shucks a huge bowl of local oysters.
Then we arrive at Bruny’s Bull Bay, where Dan dives for sea urchins and periwinkles. The former are cleaned and served in spoons. They look like furry tongues and taste of the sea.
We sail to Peartree Bay, guided by a pod of bottlenose dolphins, towards salmon farms. Seals loll on the edges of the nets or glide about in the water, surfacing to watch us watching them. It’s the cue for Dan to expertly fillet a salmon, turning some of it into sashimi and cooking the rest. Then he does the same with crays. By the time we make it back to Hobart, everyone has had their fill of Tassie’s finest. It’s not a bad way to end a perfect weekend.
Discover Hobart
The writer was a guest of The Tasman, Mona and Tasmanian Wild Seafood Adventures.
