European hospitality, now and at that time, lives in a different world to that in Australia. Maybe it’s because people have a different reverence for a restaurant being a craft, and for its chefs and service staff being part of delivering a sort of art. Although some may argue otherwise, a Michelin star is different to a hat, and the legacy it holds ultimately affects the product. It’s something Hunter has experienced in his travels and at home in Australia. “There’s a lot of money here,” he says. “Everyone just goes to Europe to spend it quietly, on what they think is better than something close to home.”
Whilst Hunter was in the Basque Country, working his way up the ranks, the idea of experimental, elevated cooking in Australia remained metropolitan to its detriment. Places like Bennelong, Quay and Marque had been awarded three hats, with the rest of the list following like clones.
In 2007, after four years in Spain, Hunter came back to Australia, where he put all of his new knowledge into the farm-to-table Royal Mail Hotel in Dunkeld. What followed was a tenure that would raise its standard to global recognition.
“It’s easy to say, ‘We want to be the best restaurant in Australia.’ What does that mean?” he says. “Restaurants need to have a vision for what they are, and the ability to change that vision when required.”
For Hunter and Julie, that vision was clear. It was about putting all of their passion into a restaurant to call their own.
And so, in 2013 came Brae. The white cottage on 30 acres that would soon be one of the best restaurants in the world.
On the morning of our interview, I had packed a bag and taken the journey along dusty, winding roads and picturesque views from St Kilda to Birregurra. It’s a place you might not visit if it weren’t for the restaurant, and one that people from all over the world travel to experience what the Hunters have created.
Arriving to meet Hunter in the front room at Brae, a cosy, light-filled lounge, adorned with art, the sun shone through their white panelled windows. He wore black pants, black sneakers, a white button-up chef’s coat and black-framed glasses, gateways to his little blue eyes. Outside, you could see the embers of the woodfire oven burning, where bread would be cooked for the night’s service. A mix of Radiohead, Lou Reed and Mazzy Star drifted over the speakers, a playlist Hunter told me he had precisely curated, and that would set the tone of the evening.
This restaurant is far more than a stovetop and a dining room; it expands out to a farm led by their gardener, Jo Lawson. Some days there’s a cabbage patch, some days that cabbage patch is a pumpkin patch. It’s where tomatoes bloom and apples ripen. When I was there, it was home to ice plant, a leaf with a glossy, crystal-like texture, as though it’s been rained on and the droplets have held their form on its green skin.
It was one of the dishes on their autumn tasting menu, which also featured Juice of 100 Tomatoes, that left me with a shock and excitement I could only relate to watching Veruca Salt and her blueberries in Willy Wonka. There was wild and cultivated mushrooms braised with potato and brassicas; duck liver, cocoa and pistachio; and a “half time” chocolate orange that lay in a bed of green leaves.
Brae is more than a restaurant: it’s a world wrapped in the nature of Australia. Whether it’s a vegetable grown, or the sprawling land where it resides. That same land carries through to its boutique rooms, where the estate doesn’t end when the meal does. A record player waits there, along with a curated selection of vinyls from the xx to Fleetwood Mac to Jeff Buckley. My favourite part is the bath, that looks out onto wide plains, where kangaroos roam and tall trees sway in the wind.
