For years I’ve watched home cooks reach for the same pepper grinder without giving it a second thought.

Black pepper has become so familiar that we rarely stop to ask whether it’s actually the best choice for the dish we’re cooking. Yet just as we choose different wines, oils or vinegars, pepper deserves the same consideration.

As a chef, I don’t simply ask:

“Does this need pepper?”

I ask:

“Which pepper is best suited to this dish?”

That simple question has shaped my cooking for decades.

Many people are surprised to learn that black, white and green peppercorns all come from the same vine (Piper nigrum). Harvest timing and processing create entirely different aromas and flavour profiles, while pink peppercorns, Sichuan pepper and long pepper each come from completely different plants.

My fascination with pepper has been fuelled by travel.

I discovered the bright citrus notes of Sichuan pepper while exploring Chinese cuisine, and later found long pepper in the markets of Bali—an ancient spice once prized by the Romans but now largely forgotten outside specialist kitchens.

These experiences reinforced something I’ve believed throughout my career:

Ingredients tell stories.

Understanding where they come from and how they behave doesn’t make cooking more complicated—it makes it more enjoyable.

If you’ve only ever owned one pepper grinder, you might be surprised how much flavour you’ve been leaving on the table.

In my latest guide, I explore:

• Why black pepper isn’t always the best choice.

• When white pepper should take centre stage.

• The freshness of green peppercorns.

• Why pink peppercorns aren’t actually pepper.

• The fascinating science behind Sichuan pepper’s mouth-tingling sensation.

• The forgotten history of long pepper.

Along the way I’ve included my own photographs, travel stories, recipe recommendations and practical cooking tips to help you choose the right pepper for every dish.

Because sometimes the smallest ingredient can make the biggest difference.

Read the full guide here:

Which pepper should you use? A chef’s guide to peppercorns

https://www.chefsamgowing.com/types-of-pepper

At this year’s Ubud Food Festival, instead of searching for temples, I somehow ended up making tempe.

A few hours later, I was proudly clutching my homemade fermented soybeans as if I’d just completed a spiritual pilgrimage.

Honestly, it felt a little bit like enlightenment.

One of the highlights of my visit was the Ubud Gastronomy Morning Walk, part of the extraordinary festival created by Australian-born Bali icon Janet DeNeefe, whose vision has helped shine a global spotlight on Indonesia's rich culinary heritage for more than a decade.

Our morning took us far beyond the tourist trail and deep into the ingredients that define everyday Balinese life.

And that’s where I discovered Tempego.

This wasn't simply a food tour. We wandered through a local Ubud neighbourhood where daily life quietly unfolded around us – passing family compounds, home kitchens and morning rituals that have remained unchanged for generations.

Along the way, we tasted traditional jajan pasar (market snacks) favourites such as laklak (below- traditional Balinese gluten-free rice flour pancakes) and lupis, reimagined with smoked tempe and gula juruh from Tejakula, before enjoying tipat cantok suna cekuh, a vibrant Balinese rice cake and vegetable dish with a punchy garlic, ginger and peanut dressing.

The experience culminated at Tempego, where we explored one of Indonesia's most iconic foods through a hands-on black soybean tempe-making workshop and a visit to the tempe museum, finishing with a playful dessert of coconut ice cream and chocolate tempe – a modern twist on tradition.

This was a celebration of Indonesia’s beloved tempe, combining storytelling, sustainability, local farming and hands-on learning, all wrapped up in one deliciously immersive experience.

Who knew enlightenment could come wrapped in banana leaves?

For those unfamiliar, tempe is one of Indonesia’s greatest culinary gifts to the world. Made by fermenting soybeans into a firm, protein-rich cake, it’s packed with flavour, texture and nutritional goodness.

As both a chef and clinical nutritionist, I love foods that sit at the intersection of culture, flavour and science. Tempe ticks every box.

Fermentation has fascinated me for years. Across cultures, these ancient techniques weren’t created because they were trendy, but because they preserved food, enhanced flavour and nourished communities for generations.

Standing there, learning from local experts and carefully wrapping soybeans in banana leaves, reminded me that some of our greatest food lessons don’t come from cookbooks. They come from communities that have quietly perfected these traditions over centuries.

Bali has a way of teaching you that.

We often travel searching for iconic landmarks, but the most memorable experiences are usually edible.

One minute you’re admiring a temple.

The next, you’re elbow-deep in soybeans.

And somehow, both experiences feel equally sacred.

Perhaps that’s the true magic of food tourism. It connects us to people, place and tradition in a way few other experiences can.

From temple to tempe, Bali continues to remind me that food is never just food.

It’s history.

It’s culture.

It’s connection.

And occasionally, it’s a very tasty life lesson wrapped in banana leaves.

Of course, I couldn’t come home without thinking about all the ways to cook with tempe. This humble ingredient has long held a place in my kitchen and, over the years, I’ve created several nourishing recipes that celebrate its versatility, flavour and nutritional benefits.

If you’d like to bring a little Indonesian inspiration into your own kitchen, explore my collection of tempe recipes here:

Have you ever made tempe from scratch? Or has a travel experience ever changed the way you think about food? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments.

Warm regards,

Sam

Backed by Science, Led by Experience.

Portrait of Max, painted by our dear friend, artist & musician Shannon Trottman

For Max

The abyss of grief is a chasm so vast that no compass—or map—can chart its depths. When Max died earlier this month—our Maine Coon, our magnificent, irrepressible boy of eighteen years—time itself seemed to suspend, leaving days soft around the edges and ordinary tasks dissolving into emptiness. In grief, hours, dates and calendars lose all meaning, yet the world continues its rigid march, carrying on regardless, almost cruelly, especially during the festive season when joy is expected, and sorrow is quietly sidelined.

Max had walked beside me for nearly a third of my life. Through every tropical chapter, every move, every unfolding change, he was there—observing, purring, talking, omnipresent. A true sentinel. Our guardian of being. His presence was so constant that his absence arrived as a physical shock. The new silence is so loud it deafens us.

As if in quiet apology, time eventually returns, and we are told it heals all wounds. Grief, however, does not heal—it moves, it shifts and comes in waves. Coping with it is a kaleidoscope of knots and kindling scars. The void it creates is multifaceted and knows no remedy but stillness in action. Distraction is futile. Conversation feels pointless. While we may place the past behind us, we cannot bury its bones; they rise again at the faintest whisper of loss, and the well of grief draws deep once more.

Max was not “just a cat.” He ruled the roost wherever he roamed, winning everybody over with his charm, whiskers, hilarity, and quiet wisdom. Outrageously funny and magnificent. Regal and ridiculous. A mighty Maine Coon with the biggest heart and an even bigger presence.

Adopted by best mate Nigel in Mullumbimby, Byron Bay became Max’s true kingdom: sunlit floors, open doors, and the backyard swamp he transformed into his own personal theme park. From life by the beach to his final, forever home on the hill overlooking his new kingdom —breeze, birds, butterflies—he inhabited every place as if it were designed solely for him.

Sadness and sorrow are essential ingredients of compassion. They belong to the wheel of life just as much as happiness, joy and ecstasy. The incomprehensible emptiness left by death—human or animal—is not a failure of resilience. It is the price of deep attachment. Loss is not proportional to species; it is proportional to love.

‘You’ve Got A Friend’ - Max & Normie

From grief to relief

In Chinese medicine, grief is associated with the metal element, the lungs and colon, and the season of autumn. Rather than paraphrase this ancient wisdom, I return to the words of Chinese Medicine Master Paul Pitchford, under whom I certified. He explains that when grief is expressed and resolved, it strengthens the internal basis of health. When repressed, it creates long-term contraction in the lungs, impairing their ability to disperse nutrients and qi. Over time, the lungs become congested.

The forces of Autumn create dryness in Heaven and metal on Earth; they create the lung organ and the skin upon the body … and the nose, and the white color, and the pungent flavor … the emotion grief, and the ability to make a weeping sound. — Inner Classic

Virtually everyone with lung or colon disorders, regardless of origin, carries unresolved sadness that seeks clearing. Understanding the inward, contracting nature of grief offers a vital clue for working with it.

If we accept that the lungs house grief, then the importance of breath becomes unmistakable. Watch how a body responds to loss. A child grieving curls inward, hugging knees to chest, weeping quietly. Adults do the same, though often behind closed doors.

Since Max left earlier this month, I noticed my own body folding in—protecting the chest, guarding the heart and lungs from further rupture. The body remembers. The physical form responds before language arrives. This contractive movement is instinctual: a primal mechanism of self-preservation.

Healing requires its counterpart. Expansion. Release. Letting go. From within to without. Without this rhythm, grief does not pass through us—it lodges. And over time, that stagnation can manifest as illness.

For me, yoga has been a powerful ally. Its long, gentle—or sometimes quietly strengthening—holds invite the body to open where it has been gripping for decades. Practised with the ocean close by, breath syncing with tide and swell, the mat becomes a place of soft return.

The practice is like a heat-pack on my cardiac crack: warming, loosening, coaxing the heart to release and expand when words fail and tears stall. Each slow breath, each sustained posture, feels like permission—to feel fully, to stay with what aches, to make room for grief, and, like the tide itself, to let the love move back in.

Swimming has always been essential. In the ocean or pool, the rhythm of the water, the resistance, the focus on inhaling and exhaling, all work the lungs in a way that is both physical, spiritual and emotional. It feels like sorrow is being drawn out with every stroke, expelled in each long breath.

And now, as the exhaling has unfolded, I am back on the bike— my broken heart rate rising to 150 bpm, muscles alive, blood pumping. In these moments, I feel invincible. Life, grief and joy all racing together, reminding me that even in loss, the body can lead the way back to vitality, presence and exhilaration.

Coping with grief through food

When using food as medicine for grief, we prescribe pungent flavours. Ginger, garlic, onion, cloves, cayenne, cinnamon, cardamom, cumin, thyme, sage, turmeric, wasabi, horseradish, mustard seeds and greens, radishes, black and green peppercorns. These foods are warming, aromatic and robust—the first port of call for the lungs.

Pungency disperses. It moves energy and fluid. Phlegm. Tears. What has been held too tightly.

“The essence of food is received through the sense of smell and appetite is stimulated by the warm fragrance of baked and sautéed food,” writes Pitchford. For periods of deep grief, slow-cooked foods are best.

During my three-month convalescence with pneumonia a long time ago, I lived mostly on boiled peas and mashed potatoes—simple, soft, comforting. Easy to digest. It allowed my gut to rest and my body to heal. Grief asks for the same gentleness. Recently, humble pasta has been my refuge; penne, peas and garlic have offered quiet comfort during times of despair. My dear friend Sarah Swan’s heart-warming congee recipe may also hit the spot.

Healing asks for warmth. Simplicity. Patience.

Max taught us many things in his eighteen years: presence, loyalty, humour and how to inhabit a space fully. Thank you for growing old with us. For trusting us. For staying as long as you could. For the slow blinks, head bumps, sideswipes, sly bites, cat sandwiches pressed gently between loving hearts, and endless tummy rubs.

Now it is time for him to rest—to stretch out somewhere warm and peaceful. We imagine him crossing the rainbow bridge, wings on, our Zen master settling into a higher post to watch over us from afar.

And if grief is love with no living destination, then this overwhelming heartache is simply all of the love we have for Max, with nowhere left to land.

We carry you with us always, our darling Mr Meowzie.
You were—and always will be—so deeply loved.

🐾

This is an extended tribute to Max. Some words were originally posted on social media. The excerpts about Chinese medicine, food and grief were originally published in part on my blog.

There are a handful of Christmas recipes I return to, not just for flavour, but for how they make me feel. Stuffing is one of them.

I really enjoy making stuffing a few days ahead of Christmas Day. I find it deeply relaxing — once your hands are in the mixing bowl, the pace naturally slows, and the mood begins to shift into Christmas.

It’s one of those quiet kitchen rituals that helps set the tone for the days ahead. The added bonus? Stuffing is wonderfully forgiving. It can be made several days in advance and kept chilled in the fridge, or prepared well ahead and frozen, leaving Christmas Day calm, spacious, and organised.

This version is rich, fragrant, and quietly festive — savoury pork, sweet cranberries, toasted walnuts, and fresh sage, lifted with orange and a splash of brandy. It holds beautifully and pairs perfectly with turkey or chicken.

Do-ahead Sage, Walnut & Cranberry Christmas Stuffing

Author: Samantha Gowing
Prep Time: 30 mins | Cook Time: 30–45 mins
Category: Christmas | Method: Bake | Cuisine: Modern Australian
Yield: Serves 12 as part of a feast

Ingredients

• 1 tbsp butter

• 1 tbsp olive oil

• 1 large onion, peeled, very finely diced

• 4 cloves garlic, peeled, finely minced

• Salt and freshly ground black pepper

• 1 ½ tbsp fresh sage leaves, finely chopped

• 1 cup dried cranberries

• 3 tbsp brandy, divided

• 500 g pork sausages, casings removed

• 4 cups day-old bread, torn or roughly chopped (*see note)

• 2 eggs, lightly whisked

• 1 small orange, zest & juice

• ¾ cup walnuts, toasted, roughly chopped

Instructions

1. Finely dice the onion and garlic.

2. Heat a medium, heavy-based frying pan over low heat. Add butter and olive oil. Cook the onion and garlic with a pinch of salt gently until soft and translucent — about 10 minutes. Slow cooking brings out the sweetness.

3. Add sage and cranberries; cook for 2 more minutes. Deglaze with 1 tbsp brandy, scraping up any caramelised bits. Remove from heat to cool slightly.

4. Break up the sausage meat with your hands or a fork. Chop the bread if needed. Whisk the eggs.

5. In a large bowl, combine sausage, bread, and eggs. Season with salt and pepper. Add the cooled onion mixture, orange zest & juice, walnuts, and remaining brandy. Mix gently until just combined.

6. Lay a layer of foil, then baking paper. Transfer stuffing, roll snugly like a Christmas bonbon, twisting ends. Chill or freeze, see notes.

To Cook on the Day:

1. Remove from fridge 2 hours before baking, or defrost overnight.

2. For the turkey, pack loosely into the cavity. Dense stuffing slows cooking and dries the bird.

3. Bake rolled stuffing at 180°C for 30–45 mins until cooked through and golden. Muffin tins (aka “Stuffins”) bake 25–30 mins.

4. Let rest 30 mins in foil or pan. Slice carefully when ready to serve.

Notes:

• Store raw stuffing chilled up to 5 days or freeze for up to 3 months.

• If making within five days of Christmas, always check the use-by date on the pork sausages and work within that timeframe if you want to store in the fridge.

• I used defrosted wholemeal hamburger buns — defrost takes 5–10 minutes.

• Cold, raw stuffing can bake unevenly; bring it close to room temperature.

Loved this recipe? You’ll enjoy all my festive food styling, recipe development, and private cooking experiences. Get in touch and let’s create unforgettable culinary moments together!

Follow along on Instagram: @chefsamgowing
#chefsamgowing #byronbaycookingschool

I spend my life thinking about nourishment — what feeds us, what heals us, what brings us back to ourselves. This week, there’s been a deep sense of foreboding, a heavy weight that lingers beneath the everyday. And yet, even if you’ve never been to Bondi, even if you turned off the news, it lands anyway, hefty in the chest and a kick in the guts.

This is what collective grief tastes like: angry, quiet, disorienting, unavoidable.

Australians are very good at “she’ll be right, mate.” It’s one of our celebrated strengths — and occasionally one of our blind spots. Grief does not respond well to being told to hurry up. Shock, sadness, anger, confusion — they are all ingredients on the same plate, whether we ordered it or not. Healing begins when we stop pretending we’re fine and allow ourselves to be human. No fixing. No commentary. Just honesty.

Tragedy has a way of turning into spectacle if we let it. Headlines shout. Opinions harden. Algorithms get busy. Healing happens somewhere much quieter — in kitchens, at tables, on walks, over cups of tea that go cold because the conversation matters more than anything else. Behind every terrible moment are real lives, real loss.

When we choose empathy over outrage and curiosity over judgment, we do something radical: we remember each other’s humanity.

As a practitioner, I know instinctively how the body and mind respond to care — and science backs it up. Trauma lives in the body. If you’ve felt tired, jumpy, foggy or strangely emotional lately, that’s not weakness. That’s your nervous system asking for nourishment.

Now is the time for good food cooked with care, sunshine on your skin, salt water if you can get into it, gentle movement, and sleep whenever you can. Nourishment isn’t self-indulgence — it’s what carries us toward resilience.

When life falls apart, we either isolate or we gather. One of those helps. You don’t need to host a dinner party worthy of a magazine spread. Sitting around a table and sharing honestly counts more than anything else. Community shows up in many forms. Sometimes it’s a shared plate, hot buttered toast, or the quiet company of someone who doesn’t need words.

Love gets a bad reputation for being soft. In reality, it’s disciplined work. It’s choosing kindness when you’re tired. It’s refusing to dehumanise. It’s holding complexity without needing an immediate answer. It’s protecting what’s tender — in yourself and in others. These small daily decisions are how a nation’s heart repairs itself. Not all at once. Slowly. Collectively.

I don’t pretend to have answers for why these things happen. But I do know this: how we respond matters. If Bondi has cracked something open, let it be our capacity for care — let it remind us that healing often starts by acknowledging the layers of our shared history, even the uncomfortable ones, then choosing care in response. Let it remind us that safety isn’t abstract — it’s built through connection, responsibility and compassion.

Nothing heals alone — especially not our home. So we cook. We gather. We break bread. We linger over tables and conversations in pursuit of mending the national fracture, one meal at a time.

If you’d like to linger a little longer at my table, discover more recipes, and join me in thinking about food, community, and care, visit my website.
Or jump straight to the kitchen with some of my favourite recipes here.

Beautiful photography by Sera J Wright at Bondi, and closer to home at Cosy Corner, Tallow Beach, Byron Bay.

The rain was relentless that morning, drumming against the city streets the day before the 1985 Melbourne Cup.

Whispers had already begun — the track would be wet, perfect for What A Nuisance, our outsider who loved a soggy course. Suddenly, against all odds, it felt like he might actually have a chance.

The air was electric with possibility, thick with the scent of damp earth, and every drop of rain seemed to whisper: maybe today, the improbable could happen.

Meanwhile, at the restaurant, Gowings, East Melbourne, those pink-hued walls glowed under warm, golden light, and damask-lined tables were draped in pristine linen.

Our fabulous dinner-suited waiters — who taught me everything I know about front of house — moved with quiet precision, balancing silver trays and the fish of the day; every step a careful choreography. Certain tables carried prestige — Table 1, Table 7 — whispered about by staff and patrons alike, a mark of influence and expectation.

It was a stage. A club. A special occasion. And, as you’ll read, a sanctuary.
On this day, in this land of opportunity, it was also a place of hope — a place of what if.
A living story etched in every corner, in the gleam of polished stemware, in the hush and hope of victory.

The clouds opened, and the heavens poured.
Yet amidst the downpour, my father’s voice rang out with that familiar half-laugh, half-challenge tone:

“Open another bottle of champagne!”

Because that day wasn’t just any day.

That day was destiny.

The Long Shot

Our horse: What A Nuisance. A 15-to-1 chance. But he loved the wet. He thrived in it.

We woke at dawn. You could cut the nervous energy with a knife. We set off — puddles deep in the car park, umbrellas flipped by gusts, the air heavy with promise.

Before the mounting yard, we visited What A Nuisance in the stables. I looked him in the eye, whispered encouragement, and felt a certainty I couldn’t explain. I didn’t even want to place a bet — not out of caution, but out of fear that I might somehow jinx him. I just stood there, confident in a way that only comes from a deep, quiet knowing.

Years later, at the Melbourne Cup Parade on Swanston Street, What A Nuisance found me in the crowd. He twirled and circled, as if to say, remember me? Friends who joined me that day will never forget it — a horse that knew, a moment that stayed forever.

The Race

My dad and I found ourselves in the Owners & Trainers stand, his hand in mine.

The roar of the crowd.
The thunder of hooves.
The smell of earth and sweat and hope.

My eyes closed. His half-shut.
Time stretched in that blur of motion and adrenaline.

And then — he did it.

What A Nuisance surged forward in the final leg, caught the leader, and won by a nose.
Against all expectation.
Against all odds.

Because when everything is stacked one way, it takes the unexpected to win.

Royal Encounters

After the race, we moved like astonished ghosts.
The trophy was ours — but more than the metal and the flash, it was the story:
the underdog, the rain-soaked field, the long odds, the triumph.

Then came the exclusive meeting.
We were summoned upstairs, into a room where royalty stood.

Her Royal Highness Diana, Princess of Wales
His Royal Highness Charles, Prince of Wales

Elegant. Poised. Regal.

We shook their hands. They congratulated us. They offered polite smiles.
But for me — nothing could match the surge of elation I’d already felt moments earlier.

The Ride Home

My father, usually the pride of the press, for once didn’t want the spotlight, the paparazzi, the fuss.

He just wanted a quiet car ride — the Cup wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper,
and a limo burning down Toorak Road.

We celebrate the improbable.
The resilience.
The joy of an outsider winning.
An orphan, a 10-pound Pom.
Against the odds. Against expectation. Against the weight of history and circumstance.

Legacy

It wasn’t just the race.
It wasn’t even meeting royalty.

It was that moment of truth when the outsider wins —
when doubt gives way to wonder,
when the pauper outshines the princess,
when the man who would be King bows to the unexpected champion.

That day is etched in my memory —
in the clink of a champagne flute,
the muddy track,
the roar of the crowd,
and the quiet handshake with a real princess.

It lives in the heart of every underdog that dares.

And so, like years ago when ours found his chance in the downpour, today’s race holds the same shimmering possibility: that the long shot might just haunt the favourites.

🔗 Read the original story here

In loving memory of Dennis Gowing — 1930 – 1991

Always in my heart.

Many cultures classify foods by taste. In Ayurveda, the traditional system of Indian medicine, foods are grouped into six tastes—rasas: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, pungent, and astringent. Most foods contain more than one taste, and Ayurvedic wisdom recommends including all six at each main meal. Doing so balances the appetite, supports digestion, and provides complete nutrition.

The Six Tastes – Rasas: Building Balanced Meals

In Ayurveda, foods are classified into six tastes, or rasas: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, pungent, and astringent. Most foods contain more than one taste, and including all six at each main meal helps balance digestion, satisfy cravings, and provide complete nutrition.

Here’s a tasty table for you:

Modern diets, like the Standard Australian Diet, often overemphasize sweet, sour, and salty flavours while neglecting bitter, pungent, and astringent tastes. By intentionally incorporating all six tastes, you can adjust meals to balance your body’s needs and optimize wellness.

What Is Umami?

In Japanese, umami loosely translates as “deliciousness,” though it describes a flavour more savory than sweet. The more common Japanese word for something tasty is oishii.

Umami was first identified in 1908 by chemist Kikunae Ikeda at Tokyo University, who noticed a common taste in foods like asparagus, tomatoes, cheese, and meat. He observed that this flavour was especially pronounced in dashi, a traditional Japanese stock made from bonito (a large tuna-like fish), sometimes with dried shrimp or fermented soy.

For vegetarians, dashi can be made from kombu and shiitake mushrooms, rich in glutamate—the amino acid responsible for umami. Professor Ikeda also figured out how to synthesize glutamate on a large scale, sparking the industrial production of MSG.

Why Umami Matters in Modern Cooking

Umami is that “je ne sais quoi” in food: slightly yeasty, savory, and deeply satisfying. It complements other tastes—bitter, sweet, sour, and salty—enhancing flavour complexity and depth.

For plant-based cooking, understanding umami is key. It helps vegetarians, vegans, and health-conscious eaters create dishes that satisfy even the most carnivorous palates. Whether you’re a chef, nutritionist, or home cook, mastering umami ensures your meals are memorable and crave-worthy.

Introducing Black Betty Bam: Your Umami Game-Changer

Black Betty Bam is a plant-based, gluten-free, umami-rich spread crafted in Byron Bay by Chef & Nutritionist Samantha Gowing. Made with certified organic ingredients where possible, it delivers a symphony of umami in every jar.

Not only does it taste incredible, but it’s also packed with essential nutrients: Vitamins B1, B2, B3, B6, and B12, supporting both flavour and nourishment.

Ways to enjoy Black Betty Bam:

• Spread on toast or crackers

• Stir into eggs or scrambled tofu

• Add depth to roasts, vegetables, or antipasto boards

Unlock the full potential of umami in your kitchen and elevate every meal with a rich, savory depth that keeps taste buds—and diners—coming back for more.

➡️ Order your Black Betty Bam today!

Umami and Digestion: More Than Just Taste

Umami doesn’t just enhance flavour—it supports digestion. Amino acids like glutamate activate the vagus nerve, sending signals from the stomach and intestines to the brain regions that regulate appetite, digestion, and metabolism.

Studies have shown that adding umami-rich substances to meals can:

• Promote gastric secretion

• Enhance the digestive process

• Increase the efficiency of nutrient absorption

This means umami not only makes food taste better but can also help your body process it more efficiently—a win-win for both flavour and wellness.

Experience Umami Today

Whether you’re cooking at home, hosting a dinner, or designing menus for clients, umami is the secret ingredient that elevates every dish. With Black Betty Bam, you can harness the rich, savory taste of umami—plant-based, nutrient-packed, and irresistibly delicious.

Order your jar now and transform your cooking!

#umami #theseventhtaste #sixtastes #rasas #ayurveda #plantbased #vegan #vegetarian #healthycooking #savory #blackbettybam #glutenfree #nutrition #culinaryscience #umamifoods #umamispread #chefsamgowing #byronbaycookingschool

When I arrived in Phuket, my luggage didn’t make it. No knives, no aprons, no ingredients… nothing! But that didn’t stop the class. I taught with what I had: borrowed equipment, a men’s shirt from the hotel gift shop and a borrowed an apron, and whatever local ingredients were on hand.

Sometimes teaching is about creativity and improvisation as much as it is about technique — and the students loved it. That’s the spirit I bring to every class, and exactly what you’ll learn in The Wellness Chef online course.

Whether I’m teaching in Phuket with borrowed equipment or running classes at luxury resorts, the principles are the same: clarity, preparation, and connection.

A great class isn’t just about following a recipe — it’s about creating moments your students will remember, from the first demonstration to the last bite.

Over the years, I’ve taught Japanese cuisine, Asian knife skills, and regional Southeast Asian cookery — from small boutique classes to corporate events and international retreats.

Each experience has taught me what students love, what keeps them engaged, and how to deliver a class that feels effortless yet inspiring.

In this post, I’m going to give you my 7-step blueprint to teaching a cooking class that people will rave about — the same principles I cover in my online course, The Wellness Chef.

Step 1 – Get Clear

Trying to launch a kombucha workshop during Oktoberfest isn’t going to fill seats. Your niche must match both your expertise and your market, so find your niche and own it.

Before you order your first bag of gluten-free flour, you need to ask yourself two questions:

Ask yourself:

1. What am I genuinely good at?

2. Will it sell?

3. Who is my target market?

My niche is food as medicine, especially using the healing properties of Japanese ingredients. I learned the cuisine on the restaurant floor when I managed a Japanese restaurant in Melbourne in 1985. I spoke a little Japanese, wore a kimono every day and cooked traditional recipes including Sukiyaki, Shabu Shabu and Yosenabe right at the table — sadly, no photos — but the experience made me completely at ease teaching in front of a crowd.

Once you know your niche, the rest of the class design process flows much more easily.

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2. Get Classy

Attend other classes, watch online tutorials, and study professional chefs in action. Pay attention not just to the food but to how they engage the audience — timing, pacing, humour, and storytelling are just as important as knife skills.

Think about the “little things” that make a big impact:

• Demonstrating a kitchen hack like peeling ginger efficiently, zesting citrus, or mastering a quick mise en place.

• Sharing tips that make cooking easier for home cooks.

• Creating moments that feel like insider secrets — students love these, and they often become the most talked-about part of your class.

3. Get Smart

You don’t need to be a Michelin-star chef, but you do need knowledge, credibility, and confidence. Students notice when a teacher knows their craft deeply.

Consider:

• Taking a Certificate IV in Training & Assessment to structure your modules and lessons professionally.

• Building a strong foundation in your niche — nutrition, regional cuisine, or wellness cooking — so you can answer questions authoritatively.

• Practising how to explain techniques clearly, step by step, so students feel empowered, not overwhelmed.

The more confident and informed you are, the smoother your class runs and the better the student experience.

4. Get Savvy

Pre-class logistics are crucial. Think of your class as a mini production:

• How will students discover your class? Online, word-of-mouth, newsletters, social media?

• How do bookings and payments work? Make it seamless and professional.

• Can students reach you with questions before the class? Responding quickly builds trust and reassurance.

Study how other successful instructors run their business. Take notes, adapt the best strategies to your style, and add your personal flair.

5. Get Insured

Safety and compliance are non-negotiable. Check your:

• Public liability insurance — essential for any cooking event.

• Medical malpractice or professional indemnity insurance — if you give nutrition or dietary advice.

• Venue insurance — if using council or hired kitchens.

Always bring your own first aid kit. Even experienced cooks nick themselves; being prepared ensures everyone’s safety and protects your reputation.

6. Get Practice

Practice is everything. Start with four recipes for a three-hour class. Don’t try to do too much on your first run — less is more.

• Master your “show plates” until you can teach them confidently without referring to notes.

• Time each step so your class flows naturally from start to finish.

• Prepare optional extras — like a surprise dressing or quick smoothie — if there’s time.

• Rehearse interacting with students: answering questions, offering encouragement, and keeping energy high.

7. Get Your Brand Together

Your “why” drives your message. Are you:

• A naturopath using live classes to promote your clinic?

• A cookbook author showcasing recipes and techniques?

• A tourism operator selling unique food experiences?

• A humble chef trying to survive in a pandemic? See VDO above!

Consistency is key:

• Populate social media with real photos of your classes and dishes.

• Collect testimonials from every class.

• Pitch stories to local media about why your expertise matters.

• Create business cards, flyers, and a clear online presence.

Your brand should tell the story of who you are, what you offer, and why people should choose you.

Cooking Class Startup Checklist

• Refine your specialised class offer – Clearly define what makes your class unique and why students will choose you.

• Identify your best-selling recipe and why it works – Know which dishes excite students most and how to highlight them in your marketing.

• Set your ticket price (research competitors) – Price strategically: competitive, fair, and reflective of the value you provide.

• Calculate your yearly income target → divide by number of classes – Turn your financial goals into a concrete rate per class.

• Create multiple packages – Offer options: single classes, series, or VIP experiences to appeal to different students.

• Pitch to dream clients & venues – Target the locations and audiences you most want to work with and make a compelling case for your expertise.

• Get visible: List your classes on TripAdvisor, Google, and local directories – Collect feedback after every session, showcase testimonials, and continuously attract new students.
  

👉🏼 Download Your Cooking Class Checklist

Ready to plan a class that sells out? This handy checklist walks you through every step — from crafting your best recipes and setting the right price, to finding your dream clients and collecting glowing testimonials. Print it, follow it, and watch your classes go from concept to unforgettable experiences your students will rave about.

👉🏼 Download your checklist now!

Want to shortcut the trial and error?

My online course The Wellness Chef is the complete step-by-step guide to teaching cooking classes that sell out. You’ll learn:

• Designing irresistible menus

• Pricing for profit

• Marketing strategies that work

• Delivering unforgettable live experiences

• Access to templates and insider tips from 40 years in the industry

🎓 Start learning today → Join The Wellness Chef

Why The Wellness Chef Is More Than Just Cooking Classes

When you join The Wellness Chef, you’re not just learning to teach cooking — you’re building a complete wellness-focused culinary business. Here’s what the course covers:

📚 Publish Your Passion
Learn how to self-publish your recipes, guides, or wellness content — both print and online. Get your product out there and market it effectively.

🌏 Discover Wellness Tourism
The global wellness economy is booming — estimated at $5.6 trillion. Learn how to carve your slice of this lucrative market using proven methods for spa cuisine and wellness experiences.

👩‍🍳 Teach A Cooking Class
This module is bursting with tips, tricks, and insider know-how to launch a cooking class revenue stream. Includes exclusive “how-to” videos and step-by-step guidance.

🧪 Product Development
Understand consumer demand for clean flavours and transparency. Learn to create authentic, handcrafted wellness products with a contemporary health twist.

⚙️ Kitchen Systems
Master systems for an organised, efficient kitchen — from storage and prep to cooking and cleaning. Streamline workflow, reduce waste, and ensure food safety.

🤝 Collaborate Well
Learn to collaborate effectively across the industry. Pool expertise, innovate, and create comprehensive solutions while increasing efficiency and cost-effectiveness.

Take your teaching to the next level

The Wellness Chef gives you the full blueprint — text, videos, templates, and insider tips — to create a business that inspires, delights, and sells.

🎓 Enrol now → Join The Wellness Chef

Food is one of the most evocative time machines we possess. With a single bite, it can transport us to kitchens alive with laughter, to recipes lovingly handed down through generations, or to the familiar, comforting flavours that anchor us to moments of warmth and security.

Nostalgia is a delicate ache — a tender echo from the past that resonates deeper than mere memory. Like a finely crafted dish, it carries us back to times and places where we felt cherished, safe, and whole.

So, as the Byron Writers Festival was called off this weekend thanks to foul weather, I figured I’d balance things out with another kind of fowl. The rain was pelting down on the kitchen window when I reached for a trusty casserole dish — the one that practically begs you to pour yourself a splash of wine and take your time at the chopping board.

Outside, it was all blustery and bleak; inside, the rosemary and thyme were already strutting their stuff, singing in my kitchen with that “come in, love, dinner’s nearly ready” tune.

This recipe captures that essence — slow-cooked chicken infused with the smoky richness of bacon, the brightness of fresh herbs, and the subtle complexity of chardonnay.

Slow braising gently breaks down protein fibres and infuses each ingredient with aromatic depth. It doesn’t just make it taste better; it makes it easier to digest — a proper “fire keeper” for the cooler months, nourishing you from the inside out. A slow braise like this isn’t just dinner — it’s a little act of self-care.

The wine, the herbs, and a bit of patience do the heavy lifting, while the slow cooking allows the chicken’s connective tissues, primarily collagen, to break down gradually into gelatin, resulting in tender, juicy meat that’s easy to pull apart.

Meanwhile, the potatoes absorb the sauce through their porous structure, soaking up rich flavours and moisture, enhancing both their taste and texture. Boiling or cooking too quickly can cause the chicken to toughen as proteins contract rapidly, preventing the potatoes from thoroughly absorbing the sauce.

In my book, that’s the kind of cooking that warms you twice — once in the kitchen, and again at the table.

Enjoy!

Recipe: One-pot chicken with bacon and Chardonnay

Slow-cooked chicken infused with the smoky richness of bacon, the brightness of fresh herbs, and the subtle complexity of chardonnay.

One-pot chicken with bacon, chardonnay and herbs

Serves: 4
Prep time: 15 mins
Cook time: 1 hour (15 mins stovetop, 45 mins oven)

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• 1 tbsp unsalted butter

• 200g bacon, finely chopped

• 2 sprigs fresh rosemary

• 4 sprigs fresh thyme

• 1 tsp mixed dried herbs (optional, if no fresh herbs available)

• 2 medium onions, finely sliced

• 3 cloves garlic, finely minced

• 1kg organic chicken thighs, skin off, cut into 3-4cm pieces

• 1 tbsp plain flour

• 500ml Chardonnay (or other dry white wine)

• 350ml chicken stock

• 1 tbsp seeded mustard

• 600g Dutch cream potatoes (preferred), peeled, halved or quartered if large

• Small handful parsley, chopped (for serving)

• Salt to taste

• Cracked black pepper

• 100ml thickened cream (optional, for a slightly richer, creamy finish)
  Scroll down to discover perfect sides

Method

1. Preheat oven to 160°C (fan 150°C).

2. In a large ovenproof casserole dish, heat the olive oil and butter over medium heat. Add bacon and cook until golden and the fat has become translucent, about 4–5 minutes.

3. Stir in rosemary and thyme, and dried herbs if using. Cook for 30–60 seconds until fragrant.

4. Add onions and garlic, cooking until softened, about 5-7 minutes.

5. Meanwhile, chop and dust chicken pieces lightly with flour - note that the chicken will shrink a little, so ensure you have prepared 3-4cm pieces - then add to the pot. Brown the chicken well on all sides, about 6–8 minutes. Stir in the seeded mustard.

6. Stir everything together, then pour in the Chardonnay. Let it bubble gently for 2–3 minutes to reduce slightly. Avoid boiling, as this will toughen the chicken.

7. Add chicken stock and potatoes. Season with salt and pepper, stir well and bring to a gentle simmer.

8. Cover with a tight-fitting lid and transfer to the oven. Bake for 45 minutes, until chicken is tender and potatoes are cooked through.

9. Return the pot to the stovetop over low heat.

10. Discard rosemary and thyme sprigs, adjust seasoning, and garnish with chopped parsley.

11. If using the cream (optional), return the pot to the stovetop over low heat. Stir in the cream and gently warm for 2–3 minutes without boiling. Serve directly from the pot alongside crusty sourdough and suggested sides below.

Store: Store leftovers in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. You can freeze leftovers for up to 2 months. Ensure to cool completely before freezing in a sealed container or freezer bag.

Tip: When reheating, thaw overnight in the fridge and warm gently on the stove or in the oven to preserve texture and flavour.

Serving suggestions: elevate the dish with one or more of these delicious sides:

Honey-glazed baked carrots

• 6 baby carrots, peeled and halved lengthwise

• 2 tbsp honey

• 1 tbsp olive or macadamia oil

• Salt to taste

• Cracked black pepper

• Freshly snipped thyme or rosemary leaves, or pinch dried herbs (optional)

Method

1. Preheat oven to 200°C (400°F).

2. Toss carrots with honey, oil, salt, pepper and herbs.

3. Spread on a baking tray and roast for 25-30 minutes, turning halfway, until tender and caramelised.

Brussels sprouts & broccoli

• 6 Brussels sprouts, halved or quartered

• 1 cup broccoli florets

• ¼ lemon, juice of (optional)

• Salt to taste

Method

1. Steam Brussels sprouts and broccoli for about 5 minutes until just tender but still vibrant.

2. Season with a pinch of salt and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice for brightness.

If you loved this recipe and want more culinary stories, exclusive recipes, and kitchen tips, follow me @chefsamgowing on Instagram and Facebook for more inspiration.

For even deeper content and bonus recipes, consider becoming a paid subscriber to this Substack. Your support helps me keep sharing delicious food and heartfelt stories with this wonderful community.

The old girl from Ongerup nearly choked on her yabby when I let slip my confession. Eyes like dinner plates, jaw on the dirt, she sat frozen beside the 40-gallon drum fire like she’d seen a ghost — or worse, found out I was Charles Manson’s sous chef. The silence that followed could’ve curdled milk. You could hear a mozzie blink.

Her husband shuffled over, arms full of fresh crustaceans from the dam we’d helped haul in. Soon enough, we were all tucking into those mud-loving crustaceans like kids on a showground ride. I was in Ongerup — a tiny town in the Shire of Gnowangerup, nestled in Western Australia’s Great Southern region, about 410 clicks south-east of Perth — as guest chef.

My mission? To prepare lunch for a regional food festival celebrating the best of local produce, paddock-to-plate style. We’d been up early hauling in marron (large freshwater crayfish native to southwestern Australia, the third largest in the world) from the dam, prepping yabbies (scientific name Cherax destructor!), and wrangling native samphire - scroll down for a recipe. The feast was meant to showcase the region’s bounty. What I didn’t expect was to drop a personal bombshell that nearly derailed dessert.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen that face — the cocktail of shock, disbelief, and a teaspoon of disgust — but it was certainly the most theatrical.

Guest chef duties with gorgeous assistant, Ongerup WA — champagne, yabbies, and a twist in the conversation.

So what did I say that stopped her mid-chew?

I told her I didn’t want kids. Ever.

Not now. Not later. Not “maybe one day.” Just a flat, irrevocable no — delivered over a smoky fire, between bites of yabby, like I’d announced I’d been raised by dingoes or moonlight as a side hustle.

When I first wrote this post, I was flat out on a sun lounge by a luxe hotel pool in Byron Bay — my hometown for 14 years. At breakfast, I noticed the baby bump count outnumbered the croissants. Honestly, it looked like a maternity ward with room service.

The drive to procreate is clearly alive and well.
Just... not in me.

Never had the urge. No ticking clock. No "just you wait."
Just... a quiet, certain no thanks.

I’ve heard it all:
“Careerist!”
“Selfish!”
“Oh, you’ll regret it!”

And yet, bubbling under those barbs is often a quiet blend of pity, envy, and pride. Most people who ask, “Do you have kids?” react with one or all three.

To be honest, it never really bothered me until that night in Ongerup. And even then, not for long.

I’ve always been the one who cheers at baby showers, corrals kids into the kitchen, and hugs little legends tighter than a pack of Collingwood supporters. Kids are brilliant — they speak my secret language of Nyanganyang and every other brand of nonsense I throw at them.

But raising my own? Not my path. And for that, I’m grateful.

Kids in the kitchen at Eat The Rainbow cooking class, Savour The Tweed

A Different Kind of Legacy

My ‘children’ are the ones I teach, cook for, and nourish — the guests, the clients, the wide-eyed apprentices. These are the souls I feed with food, knowledge, and joy. That’s my legacy.

Since the moment I committed to hospitality, I’ve known this was my purpose. It led to my food as medicine business — a venture not born of the womb, but of the heart.

To me, success is a vision realised through decades of devotion to a craft.

And motherhood? One of the greatest masterpieces a woman can create.
But choosing not to? That’s sacred too.

Otherhood: Not Second Best. Just Different.

This path I walk — purpose, connection, independence — is far from lonely.
It’s a well-worn trail shared by women of all ages who’ve crafted full lives without children.

• Lives rich in meaning.

• Rooted in creativity.

• Unapologetically free.

As I reflect on Otherhood, I see how closely it aligns with what science says about longevity and fulfilment. Turns out, the secret sauce to staying young isn’t collagen or kale — it’s purpose. Just look at the women still kicking goals well past 100 — they’re not sitting around waiting for the reaper; they’re planting vegetables, mentoring newbies, hauling lobster pots, or writing their next book. They thrive because they keep showing up — to their passions, their people, their purpose. It’s not luck.

It’s that quiet, steady fire that gives the day shape. Science agrees, of course — the clever types in lab coats will tell you that a strong sense of meaning lowers your risk of carking it by a fair whack. But honestly, you don’t need a spreadsheet to know that waking up with something to do, and someone to feed or teach or love, is the real elixir. It’s not about being happy all the time — it’s about having a reason to get out of bed and put the kettle on.

Me - living in the ’70s, dancing like there’s no one watching.

You Don’t Need Kids to Live (and Age) Well

Places like Okinawa and Sardinia — the famous Blue Zones — show us that living past 100 isn’t about having kids. It’s about having:

• Strong social ties

• Daily low-intensity movement

• Plant-based diets

• A reason to get out of bed

• Lifelong support circles

It’s not the nuclear family. It’s connection + purpose.

Freedom Is the New Future

Let’s flip the script:
Choosing not to have kids can give you more time, space, and energy to nourish your wellbeing.

• More time for movement and travel

• Space for learning and giving back

• Room for laughter, reflection, and play

Women without children often stay more socially active, engaged, and physically well — not despite their choice, but because of it.

And we’re not just living longer. We’re living better.

Guest cheffing at Six Senses, Laamu, Maldives came with personal transport, because even in paradise, a chef’s got to roll in style!

Your Otherhood Is Not an Absence — It’s a Presence

You don’t need to raise children to leave a legacy.
Maybe you’re raising:

• Sourdough starters

• Rescue animals

• Neighbourhood veggie gardens

• Consciousness

• The roof off

Whatever it is — it matters.

"People who live longest often have the strongest sense of purpose—and it doesn’t matter what that purpose is, as long as it gets you out of bed each morning."

So Here’s to the Otherhood

To every woman who’s chosen another path — one not framed by bassinets and birthday parties, but by creativity, curiosity, and contribution.

Not lesser. Not lonelier. Just liberating.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll live long enough to see the mozzies blink too.

Ongerup Yabbies with Samphire & Nam Jim

(Recipe here – because food still matters)

Thanks for reading and sharing in this reflection. Whether you’re walking the path of Otherhood or simply seeking your sense of purpose, remember: your legacy is defined by the impact you make and the connections you choose.

While I’ve never had children of my own, I’m a proud stepmother, step-grandmother, and godmother — roles that remind me family isn’t always biological, but built through care, trust, and showing up.

Keep stirring the pot — the good kind,

Sammy.

Brimming with lush rainforests, sparkling waterways, and fertile farmland, the Tweed is a culinary and natural treasure waiting to be explored.

Since making the leap here in 2021—after 13 vibrant years soaking up Byron Bay’s energy—I haven’t looked back for a second. This region has completely stolen my heart with its breathtaking landscapes, unparalleled food scene, and that rare magic where ocean, valley, and mountain meet.

Here are 15 of my favourite spots where locals and visitors alike can taste the best this region has to offer. Whether you’re after artisan sourdough, honest Asian flavours, hearty pub lunches, or fine dining with a view — this list has you covered.

Bread, Brunch and So Much More

Cubby Bakehouse — 2/50 Riverside Dr, Chinderah NSW 2487
Our local bakery and community hub rose like a phoenix after the 2022 floods — bigger and better than ever. Think French pastries, epic banh mi, and a very crafty Katsu Sando. A recent addition is a sensational chicken, leek and bacon pie, while their almond croissant, above, rivalled those we devoured throughout France last visit. Fresh local roses greet you most mornings, and there’s always sourdough available to take home. Oh, Cubby — affectionately known as “Cuddles” in our house because we love it so much — opens at 5:30 am, so if you’re an early bird or just heading home, this is the place for you!
Instagram

Lost Espresso Bar — Tweed Hub, (next to QML Pathology) 112-140 Minjungbal Dr, Tweed Heads South NSW 2486
Just around the corner from my all-time favourite gym is a hole-in-the-wall cafe that will light up your heart and lift the corners of your mouth. Open from 7am Monday - Friday with brain-snapping coffee, affable proprietor Ryan and his quick-witted sidekick, ‘work wife’ Kayla dish up just the right mix of banter and goodness to kickstart your day. The mouth-watering menu is surprisingly impressive given the compact size of the kitchen, and it's a magnet for locals keen for a catch-up — and a tip-off on where the fish are biting!
Instagram

The Bread Social — 12 Bay St, Tweed Heads NSW 2485
Celebrated for its artisan sourdough crafted with a 72-hour fermentation and organic, local ingredients, The Bread Social started at The Farm Byron Bay with a sourdough none of us ever knew we kneaded (pun intended)! Now with several locations including Tweed Heads and Currumbin, it’s a cornerstone of the local food scene and community. Our local Tweed store offers an eye-watering, belt-loosening array of delectable pastries and a vast menu of magnificent bread to take home.
Instagram

Affable & Affordable Pubs & Clubs

Chindy Tavern — 156 Chinderah Bay Dr, Chinderah NSW 2487
Country pub vibes with hearty steaks, a great range of generous snittys, and an excellent seafood pasta that’s definitely not marinara. It’s our mid week go-to when we can’t be bothered cooking at home. Packed with hikers, bikers, and locals alike, it’s the perfect spot for a cold beer and casual feed right on the Tweed, Chinderah Bay to be exact. Rug up in cooler months as the best dining is outside, under cover and with heaters, but it can get very chilly next to the river.
Instagram

Cudgen Surf Club — Shop 1/61 Marine Parade, Kingscliff NSW 2487
Effortless coastal dining with a family-friendly vibe and occasional live music. Unpretentious, affordable, and staffed with great people. During summer you can dance the afternoon away right on the beach to some of our favourite local bands.
Instagram

Ivory Waterside Tavern — 156 Wharf St, Tweed Heads NSW 2485
A picturesque family-owned tavern offering breathtaking 180-degree views over Terranora Creek, serving robust bistro meals that can vary in consistency, but the stunning views more than make up for it. Friendly staff, a gorgeous location, and decent stemmed glassware is a bonus. A fantastic spot for functions or larger tables.
Website

Delis, Distillers & Local Produce

Husk Distillers — 1152 Dulguigan Rd, North Tumbulgum NSW 2490
Set against the backdrop of cane fields and the lush caldera of Wollumbin, Husk is Australia’s first paddock-to-bottle agricole rum distillery and home of the iconic Ink Gin. It’s more than just a distillery — it’s a destination. Sip cocktails overlooking the rolling hills, stroll through the sugarcane, and discover the botanical alchemy behind every bottle. It’s also the setting for my Food as Medicine masterclass this October — an event that celebrates everything this fertile region has to offer. Scroll down.
Instagram

Kat Harvey Cheese — Shop 4/105 Wollumbin St, Murwillumbah NSW 2484
Nestled in the heart of Murwillumbah, Kat Harvey Cheese is a haven for cheese lovers. Kat curates an exceptional selection of over 50 cheeses — from creamy lactic goat cheeses, exquisite Epoisses to tangy Swiss gruyère — sourced exclusively from Australia’s finest producers and the best from overseas. Every cheese is cared for with precision to ensure peak flavour and quality.

Whether you’re a seasoned cheese aficionado or just starting your journey, Kat is at the ready to help you build the perfect cheese board tailored to your tastes and occasion. She will cut and wrap cheese fresh to order, and offer gift boxes, cooler bags, and ice packs to keep your selections in perfect condition.

For an unforgettable experience, book a cheese tasting and discover the stories and flavours behind each cheese. You might also find my limited edition Black Betty Bam in stock too.
Instagram

Mate & Matt’s — 752 Cudgen Rd, Cudgen NSW 2487
The ultimate farmers’ kitchen in the heart of Cudgen. This vibrant roadside stall is a celebration of seasonal, local produce — powered by the legendary red soil of Cudgen Road Farms. What began 75 years ago in the paddock has grown into a thriving local hub with a strong community spirit. From just-picked veggies to local pantry staples, it’s a one-stop shop for fresh, flavourful living. Grab a coffee or a bunch of flowers for a friend if you're visiting the new Tweed Valley Hospital just up the road. And a friendly local tip — if you cross the road, please don’t leave your car parked out front of the working farm. It’s private property, for customers only and you might find yourself in a bit of strife!
Instagram | Cudgen Road Farms | Thirteen Cudgen Coffee

Honest Asian Flavours

Real Thai — Shop 16, 101 Kennedy Dr, Tweed Heads NSW 2485
Our go-to for clean, fresh Thai takeaway or dine in, it’s BYO with a bottle shop nearby. Don’t expect fancy Royal Thai cuisine or bronze cutlery but do expect fantastic fish cakes, roast duck, and my go-to chicken curry.
Website

Raven Place — 4 Raven Place, Clothiers Creek NSW 2484
Japanese street food style in a serene farm setting. Everyone’s ‘raven’ about their delicious gyoza alongside other Japanese treats that bring authentic, fresh Tokyo flavours to the rustic table. Take home farm-fresh eggs and local produce, all in a pet-friendly, relaxed environment.
Instagram | Life a Little Greener | Raven Place Farm

Culinary Excellence

Bistro Livi — Cnr Brisbane St &, Proudfoots Ln, Murwillumbah NSW 2484
Step inside Bistro Livi, below, and you’re immediately embraced by a sense of rustic charm and understated elegance. Tucked in the heart of Murwillumbah, this moody, Manhattan-style corner eatery breathes new life into a former department store, now a vibrant arts collective. The menu blends modern Australian flair with a whisper of Spain, showcasing seasonal, locally sourced ingredients. Each dish is crafted with care and a nod to tradition — turning every meal into a heartfelt celebration of community, culture, and the rich bounty of the region.
Instagram | My Review

No. 35 Kitchen and Bar — No. 35 Tweed Coast Road, Cabarita Beach, NSW.
Nestled between the sea breeze and coastal palms of Cabarita Beach, Number 35 is the kind of place that quietly wins you over — one smoky fish dip, crispy Brussels sprout, or a choc chip and tahini skillet cookie at a time. It’s a neighbourhood restaurant with a welcoming heart and a confident, seasonal menu that feels both comforting and quietly adventurous.

The local snapper fish finger sandwich is a standout — crisp, fresh and packed with flavour — while every pasta dish delivers that perfect mix of soul and sophistication. And let’s not forget the tiramisu, which became something of a local hero during lockdowns — a sweet, creamy life saver when we needed it most.
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Pipit — Shop 4/8 Coronation Ave, Pottsville NSW 2489
If you’re visiting the Tweed Coast, a stop at Pipit in Pottsville is an absolute must. Ben and Yen Devlin are true champions of our region, creating a dining experience that perfectly captures the magic of local coastal produce and seasonal flavours. Ben’s impressive culinary background shines through every dish with food that tells a story of place and passion.

However, it’s Yen’s exceptional artwork and dedication that truly elevate Pipit. Her creative vision brings a heartfelt warmth and authenticity, reflecting the spirit of the Tweed community. Beyond her art, Yen’s unwavering commitment to supporting rising chefs and nurturing creativity makes Pipit not just a restaurant, but an important and magical destination. Be sure to book well in advance, especially if you’re on a timeline.
Instagram

Tweed River House — 131 River St, South Murwillumbah NSW 2484
Step into Tweed River House and into a world of charm with an air of familiarity, inhaling the wonderful whiff of prosperity. The magnificence of the manor, formerly a reception centre, is as glamorous and sophisticated as it is relaxed. The astute attention to detail will thrill you just as much as the breathtaking view of the Tweed River and Wollumbin in the distance. Expect elegant napery, luxe colonial style, and a menu rooted in regional produce.
Instagram | My Review

5 More Places to Try

Jamie the Fisho — Chinderah Tavern car park
Local seafood straight from the trawlers. Find Jamie in the Chinderah Tavern car park Wed–Sat mornings. Sneak a peak into the esky and you’ll find oysters, green and cooked prawns, fresh fish on ice conveniantly packed in cryovac including Gold Band Snapper and Orange Roughy. Perfect for the freezer too.

Keith — 132 Murwillumbah St, Murwillumbah NSW 2484
Reminiscent of my old Fitzroy neighbourhood, Keith serves excellent coffee and an interesting cafe menu that hits the mark every time. Friendly staff and a cosy atmosphere make it a reliable stop for locals and visitors alike.
Instagram

Kingscliff Beach Hotel — 102 Marine Parade, Kingscliff NSW 2487
A vibrant gastro pub with good to great food, and live music, often featuring the cream of the Australian music scene. Go for the food, stay for the show.
Instagram

Mount Warning Hotel — 1497 Kyogle Rd, Uki NSW 2484
Quintessential country pub vibes at the foothills of our Cloud Catcher, the mighty Wollumbin. This famous hotel with hearty meals, live music, motorbikes galore, friendly service, and a welcoming atmosphere. A must-visit for those exploring the picturesque village of Uki.
Website

Tweed Heads Chinese Restaurant — 103 Wharf St, Tweed Heads NSW 2485
Old-school Aussie-Chinese classics served in a nostalgic setting reminiscent of scenes from Muriel’s Wedding. The Peking duck is handy, along with all your favourite Aussie-Chinese comfort dishes, you know the ones — think nostalgia, not Nobu!
(07) 5536 5077

Join Me at Food as Medicine — Savour the Tweed Festival 2025

I’m thrilled to be hosting Food as Medicine: Garden to Table Masterclass on October 23 in the Husk Ink Gallery at Husk Rum Distillery, a stunning riverside location where we’ll celebrate the healing power of food — from grass to glass. Join me for an immersive masterclass and spirited experience showcasing the region’s incredible produce and flavours.

Buy tickets here

Savour the Tweed was recently named winner in the North Coast Tourism Awards Festivals & Events category this week — a true testament to the vibrant food culture here in the Tweed. View program here

About the Author

With a rich career spanning over 40 years in the food industry, Samantha Gowing is a celebrated chef and culinary mentor deeply rooted in Australia’s Northern Rivers region for the past 17 years. An award-winning hotelier originally from Melbourne, Sam brings a wealth of experience and passion for food as medicine, blending her expertise in hospitality with a commitment to nourishing, seasonal cuisine. As a respected industry leader and advocate for local producers, she inspires both home cooks and professionals alike to embrace the power of food to heal, connect, and delight.

Learn more about Samantha and her work at www.chefsamgowing.com

In the ever-evolving world of wellness, food has become so much more than fuel — it’s a storytelling tool, a healing modality, and a brand’s most powerful voice.

One of the most rewarding projects of my career has been the development and production of the Gwinganna Gourmet Cookbook — a visually rich, deeply nourishing publication that brings to life the culinary ethos of Australasia’s premier health retreat.

A Culinary Journey at Gwinganna

Since 2008, I’ve had the honour of consulting to Gwinganna Lifestyle Retreat — mentoring their kitchen team, leading seasonal menu innovations, and redefining what wellness cuisine can look, taste and feel like.

The co-head chefs, Stephen Crawford and Justin Addie, expertly crafted the recipes, drawing on their extensive culinary expertise to create dishes that marry flavour and texture. I took on the role of editor and project manager to ensure the vision came to life seamlessly.

Bringing the cookbook to its full brilliance, multi award-winning photographer, designer and stylist Nelly le Comte captured and styled each dish with exceptional artistry. Together, we produced a stunning cookbook that blends healing food with five-star flair — from the kitchen to the printed page.

“Sam’s dedication to promoting health and vitality through gastronomy is unparalleled… Her long association with Gwinganna speaks volumes about her expertise and commitment to the field.”
— General Manager, Gwinganna

Behind the Scenes

A glimpse into a shoot day at Gwinganna: Photographer Nelly le Comte completely calm, flavour-forward - always in focus!

What Makes This Wellness Cookbook Stand Out?

✔️ Wellness recipe development — rooted in nutritional science
✔️ Trend forecasting — inspired by emerging health movements
✔️ Storytelling & editorial direction — aligned with brand values
✔️ Food styling & photography — capturing the essence of healing

“Her innovative approach to wellness gastronomy has elevated our offerings and helped position Gwinganna as a world leader in spa cuisine.”
— General Manager, Gwinganna

Featured Recipe: Lemon Slice

This wholesome lemon slice is a citrusy delight that’s packed with zesty lemon goodness and nourishing ingredients.

Makes: 24 pieces
Prep: 30 min
Freeze: 1 hour

Base

• 3 cups cashew nuts

• 1½ cups sunflower seeds

• 3 cups desiccated coconut

• 80g date paste (see below)

• ¼ cup lemon juice

• Pinch salt

Line a brownie tin (approx. 24cm x 24cm) with baking paper. Blitz cashews and sunflower seeds in a food processor until fine and slightly sticky. Add coconut, date paste, lemon juice and salt. Press mixture firmly into the lined tin.

Topping

• 1½ cups cashew nuts (soaked 15 min in hot water, then drained and dried)

• ¾ cup honey

• ¾ cup coconut oil

• Zest and juice of 1 lemon

• 1½ tsp vanilla paste

• 1 tsp ground turmeric

Blend soaked cashews, honey, coconut oil, lemon juice and vanilla until smooth. Reserve 1–2 tablespoons of this white mixture. Add turmeric to the remaining topping and blend until combined.

Spread yellow topping over the base. Use the reserved white mixture to create a swirl or pattern of your choice. Freeze for 1 hour. Remove 30 minutes before slicing. Keeps chilled for 7 days.

Date Paste (makes 2 cups)

• 2 cups Medjool dates

• 1 litre boiling water

Soak dates in boiling water for 10 minutes. Remove pits, discard water, and blend into a smooth paste.

Bringing Wellness Visions to Life

Whether you're publishing a cookbook, designing a retreat menu, or launching a health food product — I help wellness brands and leaders craft flavour-forward content that educates, inspires, and connects.

We offer:

• Recipe development + wellness publishing

• Market insights + food trend forecasting

• Visual storytelling + art direction

• Spa cuisine creation + team mentoring

Let’s Talk

Want to explore a wellness food or publishing project?
I’m offering a FREE 30-minute discovery call to discuss your idea, vision or product.

👉 Book your spot here

Let’s create something truly nourishing — for your audience, your customers, and your brand.

Subscriber Bonus: Styling Tips for Wellness Plates

Exclusively for subscribers:
Download my cheat sheet — “The 5 Senses of Styling: How to Plate Wellness Cuisine That Sings” — to elevate your next shoot or dinner party.

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Romanticising paddock-to-plate dining—dirt under the fingernails, heirloom vegetables, a chef plating just-picked produce with poetic flair—might seem like a nostalgic indulgence. But beyond the buzzwords and hashtags, there’s a deeper truth: reconnecting with the source of our food is not a passing trend—it’s a cultural necessity.

In a world spinning ever faster with convenience, ultra-processed options, supply chain uncertainty and global instability, returning to the soil—quite literally—is one of the most nourishing acts we can choose.

This October, I’ll be bringing this philosophy to life as part of Savour The Tweed 2025 with a very special event:
Food as Medicine: Garden to Table, hosted in the exclusive Husk Ink Gallery at the breathtaking Husk Farm Distillery in North Tumbulgum, Northern NSW.

Tailored for an adult audience seeking nourishment, education and a deeper connection to food, nature and wellbeing, this curated session draws on my lifelong philosophy—food as medicine, backed by science and led by experience. Together, we’ll explore the power of mindful eating, local ingredients and botanical wisdom, all within the stunning surroundings of the distillery’s edible garden.

We’ll begin with a guided walk through the garden where we’ll explore and identify seasonal botanicals. Then, in the Husk Ink Gallery, I’ll prepare three dishes that celebrate sustainability, resilience and the seasonal bounty of the Tweed.

These recipes will be thoughtfully infused with hand-selected distillery elements and enriched by storytelling and tasting, offering a sensory journey of flavour, place and purpose. Each guest will also be welcomed with a bespoke botanical cocktail on arrival—crafted just metres from where the ingredients are grown.

Buy Tickets

As a clinical nutritionist and chef, I’ve spent decades exploring how food can nourish beyond the plate—emotionally, physically and spiritually. Hyperlocal ingredients, grown with care and cooked with intention, have an unmatched vitality. They tell stories of climate, custodianship and community.

And when we gather to taste those stories, we’re not just enjoying the food—we’re connecting to a landscape. The salt sea air, fertile volcanic soil, and pristine waters of the Northern Rivers infuse every element of the experience. From the Gondwana rainforests to the caldera’s peaks and the coastal headlands beyond, this is food and drink that speaks of provenance, place and purpose. Not for trend, but for truth.

This is a limited-capacity event offering a rare opportunity to experience wellness gastronomy in one of the Tweed’s most scenic and spirited locations.

We’re not just Savouring the Tweed.
We’re celebrating what it means to be truly nourished—mind, body, heart and soul.

Thursday 23 October 2025
11:00 am – 1:00 pm
Husk Ink Gallery, Husk Farm Distillery, North Tumbulgum, NSW
Only 20 seats available

Buy Tickets

Ticket Inclusions – $125 per person:

• A guided walk through the distillery garden with Husk’s horticulturalist to explore and identify edible botanicals

• A bespoke botanical cocktail on arrival, additional drinks available to purchase

• A live cooking demonstration integrating freshly foraged and hyperlocal produce

• Tastings of each dish prepared during the session

• A beautifully designed recipe handbook in downloadable PDF format for home use

Please note: Dietary requirements cannot be catered for at this event.

About Savour The Tweed
Now in its second year, Savour The Tweed is a curated celebration of the Northern Rivers’ vibrant culinary culture. Set against the stunning natural backdrop of the Tweed region, the festival brings together chefs, producers, distillers and storytellers to champion seasonal eating, native ingredients and sustainable practices.

This is my second time presenting at the festival. Last year, we celebrated the next generation of conscious eaters with Eat The Rainbow—a joyful, hands-on cooking workshop for kids focused on colourful, healthy food. This year, I’m thrilled to return with a grown-up twist on the same philosophy: showcasing how food can truly be medicine, one bite (and sip) at a time.

I acknowledge the Traditional Custodians of the land on which this event takes place, the Bundjalung people of the Tweed region. I pay my respects to Elders past and present, and extend that respect to all First Nations peoples. May we continue to learn from their deep connection to country, food and culture.

Media interested in interviews or further information about my event you are welcome to contact me directly.

All images used are owned by the respective creators. Please contact the original owner directly to request permission for reuse or reproduction:
Farm & Drink ©Husk Farm Distillery
Chef Sam Gowing photo by Sera J White

The Recipe as a Conversation

A recipe is so much more than a set of instructions—it's an invitation into your kitchen. When you write a recipe, you’re not just listing ingredients and steps, you’re creating a dialogue. A well-written recipe connects with the reader, guiding them through the process and sharing your unique perspective on the dish. It should feel like a conversation: friendly, approachable, and easy to follow. The goal is to ensure anyone, from beginner cooks to seasoned chefs, feels confident and inspired to create the dish themselves.

The Essential Structure of a Recipe

While there are many ways to structure a recipe, the key is to organize it in a way that flows logically and is easy to follow. A recipe should have a clear, concise structure that ensures each part contributes to the overall cooking experience.

Ingredients: Clarity and Order

The ingredients list should be precise, with exact measurements, and organized in the order they’re used in the recipe. Whether you’re using teaspoons, grams, or cups, being specific helps the cook gather everything they need without second-guessing. It’s also helpful to group ingredients used together in the same step, but be sure they appear in the correct order for that particular step. I prefer not to bullet or number the ingredient list. As a cook, I find it can be confusing and clunky. But hey, that's just my preference!

If you’re providing both metric and imperial measurements, make sure there’s enough space in your layout—whether for a cookbook or a website. For instance, when Nelly le Comte and I work on cookbooks for our clients, we often deal with narrow ingredient sidebars, so we have to be very economical how we present the measurements, using minimal space for the numbers and units. It’s all about thoughtful design to showcase the food and enhance Nelly's stunning photography.

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Method: Step-by-Step Instructions

The method is the heart of your recipe. It should be broken down into easy-to-follow, numbered steps, with each step providing enough detail to guide the cook successfully. Use simple language and avoid jargon unless necessary. If you're a confident writer, then by all means weave the method into more of a story, however I find the a numbered or bulleted methodology the most helpful.

Think about the pacing of the recipe—step too fast, and the cook may miss an important detail; too slow, and the excitement of cooking can fade. Each step should move logically to the next, ensuring the cook can follow along without having to flip back and forth.

Timing and Temperature: Getting it Just Right

Cooking times and temperatures can make or break a dish. Providing accurate timings for each step, from prep to cooking, ensures your readers can manage their time and execute the recipe effectively. Be specific about oven temperatures (e.g., 180°C. not “medium heat”) and suggest any flexibility based on different equipment (such as convection ovens). Offer guidelines on what to look for visually (e.g., “golden and crispy”) to help cooks feel confident they’re on the right track. For pan frying, I will often write something like this: Set a heavy-based frypan over a medium-high heat, add butter or olive oil....

Download this recipe template PDF

If you're catering to a global audience, it's best to include both Celsius and Fahrenheit for temperature measurements. Don't forget gas marks if your audience is in a region still supports gas. In Victoria, Australia, most household gas use is being discontinued due to its environmental and health impacts. However, just ask a chef, I'm sure they'll tell you they love cooking with gas!

Tools and Equipment: What You’ll Need

It’s helpful to include a list of essential tools, such as a sharp knife, roasting pan, or blender, so the cook knows exactly what to prepare. If specific tools are necessary for the recipe, mention them early on, especially if they’re uncommon. This way, the reader can plan ahead and ensure they have everything ready before starting.

If you're brand ambassador or being paid to promote, then include it in your story, even if you're no longer on the payroll. For example, I bought Le Creuset very early in my career, I inherited my dad's stunning copper pots - and I love the Solidteknics frypans that I was provided a while back.

These pans and utensils are seriously impressive—premium Australian-made cookware that I absolutely swear by for home cooking. While they're a bit too hefty for my carry-on, they are perfect for the kitchen! They handle high heat beautifully, cook evenly, and are a breeze to clean. If you love them as much as I do, be sure to let the makers know!

The Art of Writing a Recipe: Making it Relatable and Clear

Great recipes don’t just give instructions—they make the cooking process enjoyable. When writing a recipe, think about how you can engage your reader, making the process as enjoyable as the dish itself. After all, cooking should connect you, rather than being a chore.

Tone and Language: Engaging Your Audience

The tone of your recipe should reflect your personality as a cook. Whether it’s playful, professional, or comforting, the language should feel inviting. A friendly, conversational tone often makes the recipe feel more accessible, while a more authoritative tone might suit technical or professional recipes.

I usually write my social posts and articles with a characteristically cheeky tone, however your voice should always adapt to your audience. What resonates with experienced chefs might not suit beginners, so it’s important to tailor your tone. With more formal blogs like this post—where I want to be more instructional and clear—I tend to dial down the cheek and focus on structure, accuracy and guidance.

Visuals and Measurements: Guiding the Cook

The Importance of Testing: Ensuring Reliability

Nothing is more frustrating than following a recipe only for it to turn out wrong. That’s why testing is crucial. A good recipe writer tests their instructions to make sure the steps are clear and the dish turns out as promised. I'm still recovering from the whirlwind of abuse I copped for re-posting the CWA Anzac cookies that didn't work for the reader.

Oh my I hear you say! So, ask yourself if the recipe is foolproof, and could a beginner be able to replicate the dish without too much guesswork? Ensuring accuracy will build trust with your readers and help them feel confident using your recipes time and time again.

Ethics in Recipe Writing: Credit Where Credit is Due

Writing a recipe also comes with a responsibility to respect the work of others. As recipes often draw inspiration from various sources, it’s essential to acknowledge those influences to maintain integrity and foster a culture of respect in the culinary world.

Acknowledging Inspirations: From Chefs to Home Cooks

If a recipe is inspired by someone else’s work, credit is essential. Whether it's a famous chef, a home cook, or a tradition from another culture, acknowledging these influences shows respect and transparency. If you’ve adapted someone else’s recipe, share how you’ve made it your own while recognizing the original source.

With so many chefs and great cooks, it's hard to pick an example, so here goes. I teach this bulletproof renowned Australian chef Matt Moran’s fabulous fondant recipe time and time again, it's that good, and it gives my students such a buzz when they're ready to serve up.

Avoiding Plagiarism and Respecting Intellectual Property

Plagiarism in recipe writing is unfortunately common. It’s important to avoid copying another writer's recipe verbatim without permission or proper acknowledgment. Even small changes or adaptations should be clearly attributed. By being ethical and transparent in your writing, you’ll build trust with your audience and foster a more ethical culinary community.

Over the past 25 years, my recipes have been subject to varying degrees of plagiarism — from cheeky copycats of my tasty turmeric tonics to mysteriously familiar miso based plates popping up in cafés I’ve never set foot in. While imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, it’s the outright hijacking of my brand name, Byron Bay Cooking School, that really turns up the heat — and not in a good way.

In recipe writing, there’s an industry rule of thumb—change at least 20% to steer clear of copyright claims. But in the case of the caramel slice controversy between Nagi Maehashi and Brooke Bellamy, the recipes were almost identical—stirring up more than just condensed milk and coconut! Curious? Read Dani Valent’s take on it here.

In the Will Write for Food newsletter, food writing expert Dianne Jacob highlights a troubling case where a food blogger accused an influencer of lifting her recipe without permission. It's a strong reminder of how important it is to respect the intellectual property behind recipes—especially in a digital world where content circulates rapidly and often without proper attribution (read the full post here).

Jacob references an excellent analysis by The Washington Post, which explains that copyright laws in Australia are similar to those in the U.S. and Britain. This means that, contrary to popular belief, recipes can be protected—not necessarily the ingredient list, but the way instructions are expressed, structured, and styled.

So, what does that mean for recipe developers?

Even if you're based in Australia, you can’t simply take a recipe, make minor edits, and claim it as your own. As Jacob and The Washington Post both highlight, ethical recipe writing means creating original content or seeking permission when necessary.

It is only when there is a highly original expression of instructions or a collection of recipes, such as in a book, that there may be a basis for a claim. Recipes should be a place for creativity, but it’s important to balance that creativity with respect for tradition and the essence of the dish.

Innovating While Staying True to Tradition

It’s tempting to tweak a recipe for the sake of originality, but sometimes innovation means improving a dish, not overhauling it. For example, adding a modern twist to a classic dish can be a wonderful way to express creativity, but you should still honor the essence of the original recipe. This balance keeps the dish’s integrity intact while allowing room for personal expression.

How to Adapt Recipes Without Losing Their Essence

Recipe adaption is your key to success and unique offering. When adapting recipes, especially those with cultural significance, it’s important to understand the roots of the dish. Making swaps, adjusting seasonings, or changing techniques can be a great way to innovate—but ensure that the core flavours and spirit of the dish remain intact. Educate yourself on the origins of the dish, its ingredients, and its cultural meaning before you make significant changes.

With my background in Japanese and Southeast Asian cooking, I’ve learned how to make smart, flavour-forward substitutions when certain ingredients aren’t on hand. For instance, if you don’t have dashi, a light vegetable broth with a dash of tamari and a sheet of kombu can work wonders. Out of finger limes or kaffir lime leaves? Try a blend of lime zest and a touch of lemongrass to mimic that citrusy lift. No galangal? Fresh ginger with a pinch of white pepper offers a similar warmth, though not quite the same perfume.

It’s all about knowing the function of each ingredient—whether it's umami, acidity, or aroma—and finding a balance that still honours the dish.

Sharing Your Food Story

A well-crafted recipe is more than just a set of instructions—it’s a way of sharing your food story. Each recipe tells a part of who you are as a cook, where you’ve been, and what inspires you. It allows others to bring a piece of your world into their own kitchens.

By writing with care, creativity, and integrity, you create connections through food. The process of cooking becomes more than just following steps; it becomes an experience that nurtures both body and soul.

So, write with confidence, share your knowledge, and enjoy the journey. Your recipes can become a bridge between generations, cultures - and kitchens around the world.

Download this recipe template PDF

Image: Kaitlyn Dever as Belle in Apple Cider Vinegar, Netflix

From Wellness to “Belleness”

The wellness industry was built on integrity, science, and authenticity. Yet, figures like Belle Gibson helped morph it into what I call the “Belleness Industry”—a spectacle of pseudoscience, shallow promises, and the exploitation of vulnerabilities.

Real wellness, by contrast, is about long-term effort, sustainable change, and resilience—not quick fixes or the latest detox fad.

When Social Media Hijacks Healing

As wellness tourism surges within the $5.6 trillion global wellness economy, it is increasingly shaped by social media trends rather than meaningful, evidence-based practice.

Influencer-driven fads—often little more than marketing stunts wrapped in aesthetically pleasing Instagram filters—have taken precedence over authentic healing. True wellness isn’t found in a viral post or an açaí bowl infused with intention. It’s cultivated through a lifetime of nourishing food, movement, and genuine self-care.

The Rise of the Wellness Metaverse

At the same time, the rise of the “wellness metaverse” threatens to pull people further from the reality of their own wellbeing. Digital detox challenges, virtual mindfulness sessions, and gamified wellness apps risk becoming yet another distraction.

No simulation can replace the depth of tangible, lived healing.

It’s Always Been About Doing the Work

Wellness has always been about doing the work. Over the years, I’ve collaborated with highly qualified health practitioners dedicated to supporting others in their journey towards genuine healing.

Wellness retreats and cooking schools help people build sustainable habits—but they are increasingly overshadowed by the noise of exaggerated claims and digital escapism.

Sensationalism vs. Substance

As wellness gains mainstream attention, its portrayal in popular culture has often reduced it to a caricature. Shows like Nine Perfect Strangers, Wellmania, and the Netflix documentary Apple Cider Vinegar misrepresent the industry with sensationalised depictions, failing to acknowledge the serious, evidence-based work done by professionals worldwide.

This distorted representation is particularly troubling given the backlash against wellness as an industry “rotten to the core.”

Yes, there are exploitative figures in every sector—but the vast majority of wellness professionals are deeply committed to helping people lead healthier, happier lives. Dismissing wellness as a whole because of a few rogue elements undermines the efforts of those who work with integrity and expertise.

Remembering The Wellness Warrior

The late Jess Ainscough, known as The Wellness Warrior, exemplified the complexity of wellness in practice. During her seven-year journey with cancer, she explored alternative therapies while also critically evaluating conventional treatments.

More than a decade ago, I worked alongside Jess on Healthtalks TV, where her message of empowerment resonated with a broad audience. She never claimed to have all the answers—she simply shared her journey. To see her legacy misrepresented in media caricatures is deeply disheartening.

Bridging the Gap Between Science and Practice

Wellness is not about rejecting science; it’s about bridging the gap between scientific research and everyday practice. It’s about recognising that healing is not a three-day cleanse, a quick-fix supplement, or a digital detox app—it is an ongoing, deeply personal journey.

After decades in hospitality and wellness, I’ve seen fads come and go. I’ve watched the pendulum swing from low-fat to keto, from juice cleanses to gut-health obsession.

I’ve long maintained that balance is key—I’ve always been partial to both champagne and wheatgrass (not together!).

In 2015, standing on stage in Mexico City in front of Deepak Chopra and my industry peers, I declared we had reached “Peak Kale”—to a resounding cheer.

Backed by Science. Led by Experience.

In light of how the industry has evolved, I recently rebranded my business from Food Health Wealth to Chef Sam Gowing—Backed by Science, Led by Experience.

This shift reflects my commitment to cutting through the noise and returning to a grounded, practical approach to wellness—one that prioritises evidence over hype, sustainability over fads, and real healing over superficial trends.

A Return to Real Wellness

True wellness is not about spectacle, social media validation, or the next big trend.

It is about knowledge, resilience, and the choices we make every day. It’s about real food, real movement, and real connection.

If we can return to these fundamentals, we might just reclaim wellness from the realm of fiction—and bring it back to where it belongs: in the hands of those who seek genuine, lasting health.

Samantha Gowing
🌐 www.chefsamgowing.com
📸 @chefsamgowing
💼 LinkedIn
📍 Banora Point NSW 2486, Australia