Instructions
The water’s cold in the river, really cold. That shouldn’t really surprise me as there’s already a lot of snow on the mountains, and yet the shock still takes my breath away.
The Lakes District in central Tasmania is by far the best place in the country to go fly-fishing for trout: so remote, so peaceful. It’s the kind of intense and spiritual beauty that inspires meditation.
Now if you haven’t been fly-fishing before, here’s the lowdown. It’s not like randomness of fishing from a beach or a boat where you drop a line and wait for the fish to find you. To catch a trout you need to think like a trout, to become a predator, the truest form of hunter.
Waist-deep at daybreak in a barely liquid stream you’ll arm yourself with a tiny lure (or fly) made to resemble the particular larvae and grubs found in that region, the trout’s natural diet. With a gentle flick of the arm your line will cascade through the air before landing the fly next to a log or reed near which the trout may be concealed. Snap back and cast, snap back and cast. Dare the trout to strike! This game can be prolonged, sometimes you’ll wait for hours and still be outfoxed by the fish. Yet only fly-fisherman knows that remarkable sense of fulfilment one has when a trout is finally wrangled into a net.
Fresh trout will always be a favourite as it is delicate and succulent when cooked. Yet gently smoked trout is an altogether ethereal experience. There are several brilliant smokehouses throughout Australia, and their fish are available year-round from fishmongers and delicatessens. The fillets separate easily from the bones, and flake well. I use it for light pasta dishes, a smoked trout Waldorf salad, or as part of an elegant mezze offering. My current pick, however, is a simple smoked trout dip made with cream cheese that is as good on a sandwich as it is with a glass of Riesling before dinner.
Smoked trout pate with crispy crumbed camembert