Breakfast in Tasmania
Mmm. Tasmanian heritage B&B breakfasts are pretty good, it seems. Ours, at the Longford Racecourse Hotel, was pretty special. A glass of cranberry & raspberry juice was presented to each patron upon arrival (I assumed from the gesture that it was squeezed in house, but it turned out to be a Nudie, which is almost as good.
Cereal, toast, crumpets and fresh fruit laid out for all. (that took care of Little Miss, who managed almost two bowls o Weetbix, plenty of strawberries, and a handful of Sultana Bran, but wasn’t too keen on the juice even watered down)
Then the cooked breakfast. You know they’re taking the breakfast seriously when they offer black pudding - I don’t eat it, but I always feel vaguely satisfied to see it there! I had village-made sausages, scrambled eggs and deliciously salty mushrooms. The Man of the House had scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, and I would have been quite jealous of it if I hadn’t eaten a giant slab of grilled salmon at the reception the night before.
Barely hours after we rolled away from our breakfast, and other members of the family rolled away from theirs, at similarly decadent establishments, we all gathered at the Raspberry Hills Farm Cafe for morning tea, which we took in the form of homemade raspberry icecream sundaes with fresh raspberry sauce and raspberries. And tea.
The good thing about having visitors come from interstate for a wedding (or any occasion) is that we get to act like a tourist in one of the best places in the world to be a tourist. I’ve been coming up to the North West Coast of Tasmania 2-6 times a year for the last ten years, since the Man first whisked me away to emet his family, and this is the first time we’ve made it to the raspberry farm.
The visitors will be up here most of the week, and so will we, and there’s been talk of schlepping out to Tasmazia, the lavender and honey farm (with actual hedge mazes!) my favourite tourist spot ever. I think this is going to be a fun week…
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