“The hills are alive,” laughs our driver and host Maree Martin as we cruise along Highway A440, about an hour southeast of Melbourne. She’s not wrong – gold-flecked pastures roll out in every direction, dotted with cows and bulls in hues of black, brown and white. I crack the window open to take in the scent of the land: earthy, slightly sweet, unmistakably farmland.
We’re touring South Gippsland for three days, heading to Wilsons Promontory – an otherworldly national park known for its granite hills, fern gullies and spectacular white-sand beaches dotted with orange-lichen boulders. It’s the last few days of March – recognised by Indigenous seasonal calendars as Bunuru, or late summer – and Maree notes how dry it’s been. Normally iridescent green and rain-soaked, Gippsland is a bit parched.
Still, the cows remain. “We use Gippsland beef all the time at Marguerite,” says chef Michael Wilson, a Victorian native now leading the Michelin-starred restaurant in Singapore’s Flower Dome in Gardens by the Bay.
He’s joining us on tour after a Melbourne Food and Wine Festival event at O.My restaurant in Beaconsfield, where he has reunited with childhood friends Blayne and Chayse Bertoncello to create a farm-to-table menu. “Gippsland produce is different from the other side of the state – it is unique,” he says.
While “Gippsland produce” has become a buzzword on Melbourne restaurant menus, the area feels somewhat undiscovered. Home to more than 6,500 farms, the region produces about 20% of Australia’s dairy and grows everything from olives to fruit and heirloom vegetables.
Once the domain of multi-generational farmers, it’s now dotted with boutique growers and young producers collaborating with chefs reshaping Victoria’s food scene. There are over 100 vineyards, but only a handful of distilleries – and we’re heading to one now.
A spirited stop in Loch
Fifteen minutes later, we pull into Loch, a postcard-perfect village founded in 1876 by Victorian governor Henry Loch. In a terracotta-coloured, 19th-century former bank is Loch Brewery & Distillery, where owners Craig Johnson and Melinda Davies sell their whisky, rum, London Dry-style gin and beer.
Craig meets us at the front and takes us to the distillery, a converted 1970s butcher, housing striking copper Australian and Spanish stills. He lights up as he recounts how he and Melinda first discovered whisky in their mid-20s, kicking off a love affair with distilling and drinking it that’s going strong 18 years on.
We peek into the bottling room and take in the barrel warehouse, rows of casks from all around the world filled with liquid gold. “Nothing happens here but time,” says Craig, grinning like a kid in a candy store.
Outside, Craig points out native plum trees – their fruit infused into his gin liqueur – then passes around sprigs of lemon myrtle. The citrusy aroma is sharp and invigorating; Michael inhales deeply, already dreaming of smuggling Gippsland’s native herbs and flowers back to Singapore.
Finally, we’re at the cellar door, and I’m so ready to sample the goods. “Every batch is different, keeping us creative and our customers always wanting more,” Craig says, pouring us a rich dark ale, a lemon myrtle-infused Weaver gin with a savoury finish and a five-year-old smooth rye whisky.
The sun is shining, and my insides are warm too, as we stroll along Loch’s charming Victoria Road. We duck into Yakkity Yak, admiring its handmade goods, and peruse locally made homeware at Kin Goods and vintage treasures at Tarlo & Friends. The sausage rolls at homely café Olive at Loch tempt us, but a cheese tasting awaits.
A new breed of farmers
A winding, scenic 15-minute drive gets us to Prom Country Cheese in Bena, where fifth-generation dairy farmer Daniel Hales has been handcrafting small-batch, certified organic cheese since 2022.
Daniel’s formidable exterior – all tattoo sleeves and grit – contrasts with the gentle way he talks about cheese. Made one day a week from 100% pasture-fed milk in a closed-loop system, the produce range spans 13 styles.
On Saturdays in spring and summer, visitors can drop in for a DIY cheese platter – choose from Camembert, blue, washed rind, semi-hard and raw milk cheeses.
Another 15 minutes south is newcomer Wattle Bank Farm. Peter Bland, a former cattle and sheep farmer “gone vegan”, grows mushrooms with his wife Beatrice Imbert, an ex-hospitality pro.
They greet us like old friends at their delightfully quirky farm: think vintage caravan, mismatched “ugly” sofas and a whole lot of Aussie charm. “I’m the foodie, he’s the farmer,” Beatrice smirks. “I know what good produce should look like, so we had to learn from scratch how to grow mushrooms.”
They cultivate eight varieties of oyster mushrooms and shiitakes, providing up to 100kg a week for restaurants in Melbourne and Gippsland, and for visitors to the farm gate that launched in January.
Beatrice and Peter give us a tour, and we witness the fungi thriving in a dark, cave-like grow room, unfazed by Gippsland’s dry spell. “Mushroom growing is never ad hoc,” Beatrice says. “You’ve got to be fully present.”
That care carries through to the cooking. As we pat horses – part of their popular Saturday pony ride sessions that draw over 100 visitors – Beatrice gently sautés mushrooms over a fire pit beside us. Water first, then butter, garlic, parsley – each added with intent. We dig into crispy, meaty mushrooms inside the farm’s cosy four-person cabin, which also doubles as guest accommodation.
Design, flavour and farm-town soul in Meeniyan
As the late-afternoon light softens, we arrive in Meeniyan. Home to just 840 people year-round, the town’s population swells come summer. There’s a pub with locals nursing pints in the old-timey dining room, a gallery showcasing local photography, sculpture and jewellery, a bakery that smells like my tomato-sauce-on-pie childhood and cafés serving up great coffee and small-town warmth.
Just two minutes from town, Ross Farm is the kind of place you almost miss. “It’s a bit hidden, isn’t it?” our guide Maree muses as we pull in. Then the doors swing open and the scent of cypress hits. We’re staying in the Dairy, the largest of three architecturally reimagined spaces on this farm-turned-boutique stay.
The Moores – Robyn and Lindsay – bought the farm two decades ago. In 2015, Lindsay saw the gap for farm stays in the region and began a four-year reconstruction project.
Everything inside Ross Farm is custom-made, mostly by Lindsay. And their daughter Andrea, who was based in Melbourne but returned to Meeniyan before the pandemic hit, designed the interiors of the three spaces. “Our family has lived in Meeniyan for over 50 years. We’ve long appreciated the quiet beauty of this region and wanted to create a way for others to experience it,” Andrea explains.
It’s hard to believe that I’m standing in what was once a milking shed: raw concrete, plywood and blackened steel intermingle to provide an achingly hip space, softened by brass touches, a comfy leather couch, sheepskin throws and luxurious robes and towels.
There’s a firepit, a freestanding tub with farm views and a kitchen kitted out with ceramics worthy of a still life. “My design approach is holistic from the inside out. It’s not purely about decoration, but about coherence, atmosphere and the spatial integrity of the spaces,” Andrea says.
Andrea’s design flair shines again at Mahob at Moos in town, where we dine that evening. The place throngs with locals; even Beatrice and Peter are here, and we wave to them as the sharing plates begin to roll in.
In September 2024, Cambodian-born chef Woody Chet, formerly of Melbourne’s Amok, opened Mahob, paying homage to the venue’s past life as Moos – a much-loved local spot run for 15 years by Marty Thomas, affectionately known as Moo.
Marty, who’s also dining here tonight, drops by our table to sing Woody’s praises between courses. The menu is soulful, generous – Cambodian flavours woven with local produce: silky congee topped with Wattle Bank shiitakes, prawn curry, squid stuffed with chestnuts and oyster mushrooms, a modern khor ko (beef stew) and crisp sticky rice with coconut ice cream. The congee wins us all over. “I don’t eat congee often,” says Michael. “But this, this is very tasty.”
The edge of the country
The next morning, prying myself from Ross Farm’s feather-soft sheets, I wander outside. Ducks waddle, sheep crunch hay, rosellas chatter in the gums. The air is heady with that lemon myrtle again. There’s movement, but no rush – a gentle reminder to slow down. I collect eggs from the chook pen and return to leisurely cook breakfast: just the eggs, local bacon and crunchy baguette.
Before hitting the road, we stop at The Meeniyan Store for picnic packs filled with more local produce – ham wraps, fresh fruit, cake and juice – for our next destination: Wilsons Promontory.
There are hikes galore at the Prom, from the Mount Oberon climb to gentle walks around Tidal River to scaling the sand dunes of the Big Drift, all with well-marked carparks and facilities.
Today it’s Squeaky Beach that lures us in – its white, powdery sand literally squeaking beneath our feet. The ocean stretches endlessly, waves crashing in turquoise and white. “That’s the end of the country,” Michael says. We pause, letting the view of the southern edge of mainland Australia sink in – raw, rugged, a quiet reminder of why I travel.
From Puglia to the paddock
We’re starved and a carb-loaded dinner at Trulli Outdoors in Meeniyan is the antidote. Its owners, brothers Francesco and Claudio Laera, came from Puglia with little more than ambition. “I came to Australia in 2011 with no English, no money, just came and it’s like, whatever happens,” Francesco recalls.
Eleven months later, encouraged by farmers he worked for, Francesco opened a restaurant in Meeniyan, with Claudio joining several years later. Now they’re giving back.
“This is country Victoria, we have to work together,” Francesco says, serving an antipasto platter with ingredients solely from local farmers – salami and bresaola from Isola Chianina, ham from Rosedale Butchers, Berry’s Creek’s award-winning blue cheese and Prom Country’s pepperberry-spiked Kongwak cheese we tasted yesterday.
During the pandemic, the brothers took their wood-fired pizza oven on tour, popping up in Gippsland towns to offer comforting pies amid uncertainty. Their food is simple, true cucina povera (“poor kitchen” in Italian): we feast on mussels in tomato and wine, slow-cooked octopus with capers and olives, rustic broad-bean pasta, addictive frittelle (deep-fried bread). “We’re not chefs, we simply want to share knowledge,” says Francesco. “We want to see a smile on your face.”
The next day, with bellies still full and smiles still lingering, we bid farewell to Ross Farm and head to Grassy Spur Olive Grove in Stony Creek. Helen and Peter Wright, and their pooches Milly and Gus, welcome us warmly, leading us through their 30-acre grove of 1,500 olive trees.
“We wanted to buy land and start a farm, and we both love trees,” Peter says, as we stroll between the tidy rows. We taste the Picual – “our gold standard,” Peter calls it – its fennel-laced bitterness lingering.
The Frantoio, a Tuscan varietal, is softer. Michael and I both pick up a hint of sweetness just as Peter mentions “banana cake” in the flavour notes.
Their olive oils and delicate, clover-infused honey are sold at Wandilla in Melbourne’s Prahran Market. The honey, once just for pollination, is now a farm staple – 500kg produced by 50 buzzing hives a year. “I have it for breakfast every morning,” Peter grins, as a yellow-tailed black cockatoo sails overhead, a nod to the harmony here between people, trees and bees.
The last bite
We make our way to Warragul – just over an hour from Melbourne, but far enough to feel like a proper escape. The town hums with activities: pretty villages to explore, lakeside strolls at Civic Park and shops selling everything from plants to spices. But like every stop on this trip, we’ve come to eat.
I stop by Stella’s Pantry for a chai latte and a chat with new owner Lauren Oliver, who took over in July 2024 and quickly put her stamp on the beloved local deli. “The deli has a great personality,” she beams, as I peruse the antipasto options and fancy jarred goods.
As golden hour hits, I head to Messmates, Warragul’s hottest dining spot. Opened in September 2023 by siblings Chris and Jodie Odrowaz and their partners, Jess Odrowaz and Michael Clark, it’s a pairing made in hospitality heaven.
What began as an idea at one of their dinner parties evolved into a tribute to Melbourne’s restaurants, complete with an interior that nails the brief: curved banquettes, exposed brick and dark-brown messmate timber tables. Chris and Jess manage front of house, while Jodie and Michael – both with fine-dining pedigree from Vue de Monde, Lume, Brae and Blue Hill – helm the kitchen.
“The way [Blue Hill] cooks influences what we do now,” Michael tells me. “And Jodie’s baking passion was ignited after she saw the baking set-up at Blue Hill.”
Crowned The Age’s 2025 Regional Restaurant of the Year, the menu ebbs and flows with the seasons, changing as often as weekly to celebrate Gippsland’s bounty.
Take the dish making most of the late summer tomatoes and zucchinis: blistered tomatoes arrive nestled in a punchy mix of zucchini, basil and pangrattato (Italian-style breadcrumb), laced with anchovy umami, perfect for mopping up with the homemade sourdough focaccia.
And we must end our Gippsland adventure with beef: a silky scotch fillet arrives bathed in tomato jus, topped with peppery rocket. Service is standout, hitting that sweet spot between warm and unobtrusive.
On the walk to Warragul Station, just nine minutes away, to catch the V/Line back to Melbourne, I replay the last three days – the delicious food, yes, but more so the people behind them.
Farmers, chefs, drink producers, all with a story to tell, all with a spark in their eyes. The hills are alive, and so is Gippsland’s love for great food and even greater community.
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