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Passing parade: Diners on the warm side of the glass at the Cornelian Bay Boathouse Restaurant can indulge in fine fare while watching the world go by /
Picture: Matthew Newton

Repast by the river

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Matthew Denholm abandons exercise for indulgence at a restaurant by the tranquil Derwent
August 13, 2005

THE excess of exercise within view of the Cornelian Bay Boathouse Restaurant is enough to put a hedonist off his Sunday lunch. Sitting on a well-cushioned wicker chair enjoying a glass of pinot gris, I'm busy weighing the competing merits of Bruny Island oysters and slow-cooked squid. But the constant buzz of activity on the other side of the glass wall, separating diners from the waterfront reserve outside, is too strong a distraction. From this warm, cosseted side of the glass, I find myself confronted by a passing parade of all the energetic things I should be doing on a Sunday afternoon.

There are parents pushing their children on swings, people walking their dogs (some are actually running their dogs), families playing football and couples out for a bracing stroll in the penetrating chill of a clear, crisp Hobart winter's day.

Even on the tranquil river Derwent, there are canoeists paddling and yachtsmen tacking. The contrast between the relaxation behind the glass and the excessive exercise outside is compounded as I spot someone I know cycling past. Rosy-cheeked from the ride, he plonks himself down on the cold ground to consume an obviously well-deserved sandwich – probably salad on wholemeal. I think briefly of my cobwebbed bicycle rusting in the shed at home, take another drink and return to the menu.

From this, I choose the squid or, more precisely, the "octopus and squid, slow cooked with tomatoes, saffron, anise and harissa, with crisp chapatti pastry" ($14.50). My companion, meanwhile, opts for the freshly shucked Bruny Island oysters, taking half a dozen natural and the same number roasted with organic garlic ($22, dozen).

This is ideal for us both: I enjoy the wonderfully rich and perfectly tender squid and steal several of my partner's oysters. Those served roasted with garlic arrive in an escargot-style serving dish and the flavour and texture are also reminiscent of escargot. They are ideally complemented by the Spring Vale Pinot Gris ($33), from Cranbrook on Tasmania 's east coast.

I fail to notice as my friend with the bicycle finishes his sarnie and remounts his bike. As he burns off his lunchtime calories in a nanosecond of pedalling, we enjoy the view, which takes in a row of picturesque, heritage-listed wooden boat sheds on the bay's southern flank, as well as the Tasman Bridge spanning the Derwent.

More calories arrive, mine in the form of fresh Tasmanian scallops roasted in their half-shells and served with fresh spaghetti tossed in chilli oil and mint ($25). The serve is generous, the scallops fresh, succulent and perfectly cooked (enough rawness remaining to retain the taste of the sea). There's a little too much chilli oil for my taste, but the combination remains a success.

My partner's roasted chicken breast basted in bush honey and thyme, served with potato and leek dumpling, roasted grape and green peppercorn sauce ($23), is another thoughtful creation by owner-chef Dave Lamb. The fillets are a little dry, but the sauce is sensational. Mention should also be made of the fresh, haystack-like bread rolls served with butter and roasted tomato oil ($3) and the equally fresh side salad of crisp greens, mustard dressing and Italian parmesan ($8).

Lamb describes his cuisine as a combination of a traditional French culinary approach, Asian flavours and the freshest Tasmanian produce, and his description is borne out by what we have sampled so far.

And why stop now? Resolving to take a waterfront walk after lunch, we proceed shamelessly to dessert. I have white chocolate parfait with figs poached in honey and cinnamon ($10). The figs are tender, flavoursome and hearty and the parfait surprisingly subtle. My partner immediately regrets not having chosen the same and jealously grumbles that there is not enough meringue in her otherwise enjoyable "fresh strawberries steeped in port with meringue and cream" ($10).

Sitting in the wicker chairs, enjoying a seaside atmosphere, I'm reminded of sitting on a deckchair on a Pommy beach. The two walls of glass swing open in summer, bringing the sounds as well as the sights of this popular recreation spot into the restaurant. But right now they are justifiably shut tight, keeping an appropriate distance between indulgent diner and energetic day-tripper. Maybe by summer I will have retrieved that cobwebbed bike from the shed.

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Reproduced with permission from News Limited.
Originally published on 13/8/2005.
Author: Matthew Denholm.

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