MY CUP RUNNETH OVER

A WEEKEND ON PHILLIP ISLAND

Some weekends are busy. Others are memorable. Then there are weekends that quietly fill your cup. Literally and figuratively.

Kathy’s 50th on Phillip Island was one of those.

Kathy and my wife Di have been friends for years, and over that time Kathy and I bonded over two things: hospitality and wine. In another life Kathy was directing five-star events before deciding to walk away from it all, head back to university and study viticulture. Today she’s making wine in the Yarra Valley.

So when a winemaker invites you to celebrate a milestone birthday, you don’t ask what’s on the wine list. You simply arrive with an empty glass.

After flight delays, Melbourne fog and a drive through Friday traffic that eventually gave way to one of those glorious country sunsets, all I really wanted was something cold, reliable and uncomplicated.

Balter XPA because sometimes the first drink of a weekend isn’t the best drink, it’s just the right one.

Dinner was at the Wooli Tavern. A couple of pints, a surprisingly good bouillabaisse, and a bloke with a guitar quietly working his way through Paul Kelly’s "How To Make Gravy", not a bad way to begin.

The following morning six adults found themselves standing on a footpath choosing between three cafés within twenty metres of each other. Naturally everyone looked at me, the coffee snob.“You choose.”

Confidently, I chose the little café. Confidently, they served me something that bore absolutely no resemblance to the double macchiato I’d ordered.

It arrived in a full-sized coffee cup, weak, milky and looking more like coffee soup than espresso. While I politely suffered through it, I noticed two things. A wall covered in Polaroids of local dogs and a handwritten sign. “Please leave all drink plates on the table.”

Such an oddly specific request. More importantly, how often must customers have been trying to help by taking plates back before someone decided a sign was necessary?

When everyone else had finished, I quietly wandered next door to the converted coffee trailer and ordered another coffee. Finally.... Right cup. Right coffee. Balance restored.

As everyone else headed off on an eight-kilometre hike, i headed off in the opposite direction to explore with my freshly out of a moon boot ankle.

Churchill Island. Sea mist. Wetlands. Two bridges.

Eventually I found myself standing on the pier at Saltwater Restaurant looking at taps carrying beers brewed from the owner’s own recipes. I asked a few questions, read the list, thought about ordering one, but didn’t.

I still regret it.

Life is funny. It’s usually the beers you never drink that stay with you longer than the ones you do.

Midday meant it was finally time to find Island Beer. Or at least attempt to. The website had no address and no opening hours. Just an Instagram icon that eventually led me to a Google Maps pin labelled Green Gully Brewing.

First pass I drove straight past it and had to turn around in the local cemetery.

Second pass… still nothing.

Third and final pass at 12:31pm a farm gate swung open and I finally spotted a tiny sign. Found it.

I parked beside a paddock, was welcomed by a rooster and wandered through long grass to what really was nothing more than a tin shed.

Eight taps poked through one wall, six pouring that day. Luke, the brewer, was still opening up, wiping dew from outdoor tables while I became customer number one. A Session Ale became a Pale Ale as I sat in the winter sun looking across green paddocks with a rooster patiently waiting at my feet.

It was perfect.

When I bought eight cans to take home Luke carefully explained why several needed to be opened very… very… slowly. Secondary fermentation meant they had to stay cold or they’d explode. He even squeezed one already bulging to prove the point.

Flying them home? Absolutely not. Instead he packed them up and promised to post them to Sydney. It’s not every day you buy beer with handling instructions.

These are my favourite places to discover. Not because they’re famous, but because they’re quietly doing something worth discovering.

Phillip Island Brewing Company couldn’t have been more different. Families. Holidaymakers. Mini golf. A proper destination with a brewery but they had tasting paddles.

Unfortunately my lasting memory won’t be the beer.

It’ll be the waitress who somehow managed to knock one of the tasting glasses into the only place mathematically guaranteed to end my afternoon. Not beside me. Not on my shoes. Perfectly between my legs. The glass landed upright. Standing in the bathroom a minute later it genuinely looked like I’d wet my pants.

The apology was sincere. The beer was replaced.

But the afternoon was over.

Saturday night belonged to Kathy.

Not because of the private chef. Not because of the beautifully dressed table.

Because every bottle had been chosen by someone who has dedicated her life to making wine. This wasn’t selecting a premium package from a restaurant wine list. This was a winemaker sharing the bottles she genuinely wanted the people she loves to experience. She talked us through each one with the quiet enthusiasm that only comes from someone completely immersed in their craft

• A grower’s Blanc de Blanc Champagne she loves for its brightness and precision.

• A German Riesling from one of the country’s highest-ranked producers because of the incredible acidity a cooler vintage can produce.

• A Giant Steps Chardonnay from one of the Yarra Valley’s highest vineyards, chosen for the balance between fruit and oak.

• Then came Kathy’s own Filigree & Stone Pinot Noir. Not introduced with fanfare. Just quietly placed amongst what she jokingly called “the big guns.” Later she admitted she was simply happy with how it held its own on the table.

• The last red was a Yarra Valley Cabernet blend from one of her favourite winemakers

• The evening finished with an Old Benson Tawny Port that had travelled the world with Kathy for years before finally being opened on Phillip Island.

Some bottles are valuable because they’re expensive. Others because they’ve patiently waited for exactly the right table.

The following morning I returned to Phillip Island Brewing to finish the tasting paddle I’d abandoned after yesterday’s beer bath.

The same waitress greeted me warmly. “Hi there, have you been here before?”

I smiled. “No.” Some stories are probably better left untold.

I selected the four remaining beers and asked if i could sit outside in the sun, i thought there was much less chance of being bumped and spilled on again.

Lunch at Phillip Island Winery followed. While everyone else quite sensibly moved onto cocktails, I quietly squeezed in two more Victorian craft beers I’d never tried before. It seemed the appropriate way to finish the weekend.

Looking back, I don’t really remember Phillip Island by where we went. I remember it by what happened to be in my glass.

• A dependable Balter after a long day.

• A coffee that wasn’t.

• A beer I still regret not ordering.

• A hidden brewery found by persistence more than directions.

• A tasting paddle in my lap.

• A winemaker sharing not just exceptional wines, but pieces of herself.

My cup didn’t runneth over because of what I drank. It ran over because of the people who filled it.

IN MY GLASS

Coffee

• Double Macchiato (attempt one)

• Double Macchiato (attempt two)

Beer

• Balter XPA

• Session Ale – Island Beer

• Pale Ale – Island Beer

• Phillip Island Brewing tasting paddle 1 (4 beers)

• Phillip Island Brewing tasting paddle 2 (3 beers)

• Maffco Gippsland IPA

• Sailors Grave Sou’ East Draught

Wine

• Larmandier-Bernier Blanc de Blanc

• Wittmann GG Riesling

• Giant Steps Bastard Hill Chardonnay

• Filigree & Stone Pinot Noir

• Yarra Yering Dry Red Wine No.1 Cabernet blend

• Old Benson Tawny Port

Breweries

• Island Beer / Green Gully Brewing

• Phillip Island Brewing