Neil Varcoe was a tech executive in Sydney until he bought an old hotel in Carcoar, NSW, population 272. Here’s the eighth instalment of his monthly column for Galah.
I have not seen this much red cordial since the ’80s. I’m surprised that they still sell it. Maybe the Pickett’s have a stockpile in the cellar. Two-year-old Tom makes a beeline for the jug. There’s no convincing him to take the cup of water from my hand. In the yard, fairy bread is smooshed between chubby little hands. Children wheel around the yard like tiny planes with one engine blown. An older boy yells — “cat!” The youngsters flock into a single formation. There’s a sugar crash coming, and not a single person minds.
The US state of Kentucky is known for horse racing, bourbon, moonshine, mining and fried chicken. Kentucky is also a house in Carcoar.
The grand home was built in the 1890s. The name was thought to be inspired by a resident who was a colonel in the Confederate Army. Was it the colonel? No-one knows.
Each year the owners, David and Libby Pickett, open their home for the Newcomers Afternoon Tea. Last year there were no children, but this time the house and gardens buzzed with them. There's something uplifting about children — they swell the heart. They also indicate that things are changing in the "town that time forgot". And not a moment too soon.
Not long ago, rumours swirled that the school would close. Founded in 1857, Carcoar Public School is a part of Australia’s living history. Before the pandemic, enrolments fell to six. Carcoar Public has 30 enrolments for 2025 — and a bright future.
As I stood in the garden of Kentucky and feared for Libby’s coveted gladioli, I wondered: had the simple country life we wanted for our children already begun?
I received an unnerving message in the depth of winter. Andrew Winfield, immediate past president of the Carcoar Show Society, had a request: “Can I add you to the bloke’s cake chat?”
The Facebook messenger group — called Cake Club — was unknown to me. Like a real-life Tyler Durden, Andrew was inviting me into a secret club. The similarities to David Fincher’s 1999 film Fight Club were immediate.
The first rule of Cake Club was, obviously, that you don’t talk about Cake Club — otherwise I would have known about it. It was also punchy at times.
The Carcoar Show — dubbed “the best little show in the country” — includes a baking category for men only. The category was created to encourage males to participate in cooking — beyond licking the spoon.
In my first year, I tied for second. It was, coincidentally, the second cake I’d baked — after I produced an excellent chocolate mud for the final day of work experience at Lithgow Vets in 1997.
This year I decided to take it seriously. I was focused on winning the Golden Whisk, and the daily messages on the group chat were the yeast that caused my competitive urges to leaven. I finally became serious at 8pm the night before. My third cake in history was good. I received a highly commended.
Tom also received a highly commended for Best 4 Decorated Arrowroot Biscuits (Seven Years and Under) — and Molly, 4, won. She received a prize of $5. Tom celebrated by “drinking the sea”, which consisted of eating the electric-blue icing that comprised the ocean of his fish-themed entry.
The 145th edition of the Carcoar Show was one of its most successful. More than 1200 people came through the gates. The event made almost $11,000 in profit — after a decision to spend $10,000 to make rides and entertainment free. This bucks the trend as a raft of community events collapse in country towns.
Show president Joe Wells said people powered the show’s success. “This year’s show was a testament to the hard work and dedication of everyone who volunteered their time and effort,” he said.
“Together, we created an event that was family-focused and filled with something for everyone. We had an incredible variety of stallholders, enthusiastic competitors, and a warm, welcoming community atmosphere.
“The feedback has been overwhelmingly positive, with strong support from local businesses who helped make the day even more special.”
As we wind down for the year at Saltash Farm, I’m so proud to be part of the renaissance of Carcoar, a gutsy and resilient town. I’m equally chuffed to be part of a rising tide in regional Australia.
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Please see the October report below. This will be the final update until the newsletter returns in February. Have a wonderful and safe Christmas, Galahs.
• Landscaping has begun with the removal of scraggy and dangerous trees. The same company removing the trees at Saltash provides mulch to Warramba, so it’s a lovely full-circle moment.
• We debuted our new logo before our website's launch next month. We used the original handwriting from the land title map of 1855 to design a logo with central-west local Emmanate Creative.
• We briefly began producing honey when our builders found a beehive in the roof. The comb filled a 75-litre garbage bin.
• Tightening the budget is our focus this month. We have had to be frugal with our use of stone, which is ordered by the slab, and we’re working out clever ways to use alternatives to save money.
• We paid the deposit on a beautiful old wood stove that will form the centrepiece of our kitchen. This is being restored by Justin Press, The Wood Stove Guy, in nearby Blayney.
