Welcome to Yes, Chef! A monthly newsletter in which food writer Sophie Hansen shines a light on our regional chefs. This week, she talks with Tasmania's roving chef Lilly Trewartha.
"Your first stop needs to be Lilly Trewartha’s katsu sandos." We were given multiple versions of this advice when in Hobart last year for Dark Mofo’s Winter Feast. So we did what we were told and we walked right into that temple of red lights, candles and the best of Tasmania's food and wine scene, straight up to the katsu stand, and there was Lilly and her team slinging golden, crumbed Tasmanian pork tsukune, homemade apple tonkatsu sauce, golden curry mustard, and shaved cabbage between slices of thick-cut white bread.
It was, as it sounds, incredibly good, and that sandwich turned me into a die-hard Lilly fan. Ever since, I've been following this roving chef’s adventures across the state.
Lilly's iconic 'katso sando' at this year's Winter Feast. Sando photo by Dearna Bond. Photo of Winter Feast stand by Lilly.
From my interested distance, Tasmania's food scene looks to be about collaboration and brave creativity. Remember when we met Jamie Yates cooking on a boat on the River Derwent, collaborating with sommeliers and DJs and deckhands to give her diners the coolest experience on the waves (or shore)?
So, too, is Lilly constantly teaming up with friends in the restaurant business, taking over their kitchens when they take a break or collaborating with them to run Izakaya Temporary, a pop-up dining experience inspired by the izakaya bars she fell for during trips to visit her sister, who was lived in Japan when Lilly was in her teens. "I was 16 when I first went to Japan and first experienced another country's food culture," she says. "It blew my mind!"
Ever since, Lilly has been bringing this love of Japanese cooking, its nuances and techniques, to every collaboration she embarks upon. From trying cool new things, to shucking oysters and cooking feasts on empty, pebbly beaches, diving for fresh abalone and scallops, swapping kitchens and cooking up dream feasts in dream locations.
Here are the things Lilly Trewartha cooks and craves when she’s home, seeking comfort, winding down and celebrating.
Chocolate cake. As a kid, this was one of the first recipes I learned to make. My mum had a book full of recipes, but Champion Chocolate Cake became my favourite (it also quickly became the messiest page in the whole book). The recipe itself was simple: wet to dry, whisk and bake. Just enough for five-year-old me to manage. I made it for every occasion and, even now, it remains one of my all-time favourite cakes. There's something so comforting about that familiar, rich chocolate cake that always brings me right back home.
A seafood roll. There's a magic to days off spent diving here: sitting by the ocean with friends right after a dive, eating something we've just caught fresh from the water in a fluffy white roll. My favourite is abalone, thinly sliced and quickly fried with garlic, butter, and a squeeze of lemon. But on a really good day (if you're fast enough), nothing beats a crayfish roll with mayo, fresh herbs, and lettuce. It's a celebration of place, time, and community, wrapped up in one delicious bite.
Hainanese chicken rice. It's pure comfort, and a dish that keeps on giving. There's something incredibly grounding about the simplicity of making it: gently poaching the chicken, cooking the rice in fragrant stock, and serving with a simple ginger and spring onion sauce. It's clean and delicious. One of the things I love most is that the next day it can become a whole new dish. I'll simmer the bones into a rich broth, stir through leftover rice, pile in finely sliced ginger and shreds of chicken, and turn it into congee. It's the first thing I reach for when I'm feeling run-down or needing a bit of comfort.
In Lutruwita/Tasmania, where I was lucky enough to grow up, about an hour south of Hobart. Looking back, my childhood feels pretty idyllic: fishing with my dad, helping my mum in the garden, raising animals, and eating meals made from the things we grew or caught ourselves. Mum is a brilliant gardener, and our kitchen was always full of whatever was in season: fresh raspberries, plums, broad beans, silverbeet, pink eye potatoes still dusted with soil. That early connection to food, to land, and to the rhythm of the seasons continues to shape the way I cook today.
Because it's home. Like most teenagers, I couldn't wait to leave, and I did. But coming back has deepened my appreciation for just how special Tasmania is. It's changed a lot over the years, and so have I. It’s an incredible place to cook. There's a strong sense of community among chefs, growers, and producers here. I've been working with some of the same people since I was 18, and that kind of long-standing relationship is a rare and meaningful thing. You get to know the land through the people who work it. You feel the seasons in a more immediate way. It makes cooking here not just rewarding, but joyful.
Venison. It's something I've been using more and more lately, and it's an incredible protein to work with: lean, flavourful, and deeply connected to place. It's also an incredibly sustainable way to eat meat, especially here in Tasmania. My hope is that it continues to become more accessible for consumers, because it really deserves a bigger place on the table.
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Yazmin Lacy. R&B + soul vibes to relax into the day.
Tabasco. It goes with everything.
My KitchenAid, with all the attachments. Baking, mincing, pasta-making, all covered in one.
At the moment, it's a bottle of spring rhubarb vermouth from Saison.
My partner and I take turns making each other breakfast on the weekends. My go-to at the moment is an English muffin or crumpet filled with eggs, some greens from the market, Tongola goat’s curd and smoked paprika.
This is a dish that takes me straight home to Tasmania, salty and sitting with friends after a dive. It's simple, generous food that celebrates one of my favourite moments. We'll cook what we've just pulled from the water, tucked into a soft white roll. While I've used crayfish here, any freshly caught seafood, such as prawns or flaky white fish, works just as well. And although the beach isn't technically essential, it makes it taste better.
Ingredients
Method
In a mixing bowl, combine the mayonnaise, tomato sauce, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco and lemon juice. Taste and adjust the seasoning as you like. Stir through the chopped crayfish meat until well coated.
Heat a large frying pan over medium heat. Slice the rolls in half horizontally and butter the cut sides. Toast them, buttered side down, in the hot pan for about 1 minute, or until golden (you may need to do this in batches).
Divide and spoon the crayfish mixture evenly on the base halves of each roll. Top with a generous handful of mixed lettuce leaves and finish with the other half of the roll.
Serve immediately with extra Tabasco on the side.
See you all next month for the September instalment of Yes, Chef! And as always, if you know of a regional chef we should profile here, please let us know.
Sophie x
