Chef Jeffrey Gear

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Me….30 years ago, when I was 30

Christmas Eve 1964 approximately. As most people know, I grew up on a farm 10 miles outside of Mansfield in the high country of Victoria, heading towards Tolmie. This is where my Mum and Dad had their farm.

Anyone who ever grew up on a farm knows how life is, what work is, and the meaning of having nothing…….you worked hard for what you achieve. And that is a lesson instilled in myself and my siblings for the rest of our lives.

That year on Christmas Eve Dad took the family into the bush up towards Tolmie to cut down a pine tree for our Christmas tree. We hung balloons and home streamers. I can still smell in my mind’s eye and very much miss the smell of a pine tree for Christmas

Mum came to us boys, said, we need to leave Christmas cake out for Santa and carrot for his reindeers when they come, and off to bed. Santa comes only when good boys are asleep.

Christmas morning my brother two years older than me said, did you hear last night Santa I heard Santa come, he arrived in a ute! Come on Jeff. We both ran outside and low and behold Santa did come that night he left us both a swing and slide…WOW that was a great Christmas surprise.

Thinking back and speaking with my Mum and Dad they told us how Santa delivered the swing and slide on the back of the milk truck. And Mum and Dad put it together in the dark and it would have been pitch black.

How things are change with the world today. I miss a child growing up with the innocence, hard work of the farm life…the simple life. The fresh vegetables and orchard of fruits, fresh milk, and meat. Know the world believes it comes from a supermarket. Children expected to receive gifts better than their friends, where we had nothing and learnt to be grateful of what we had.

My Story is about a rich and fulfilled childhood of growing up to appreciate the best things in life. I can still see Grandma Gear making the best puff pastry, cakes and biscuits for a woman who never went to school to learn to read or write. And my Grandma Cleeland with her Scottish heritage, I can still see my Grandma cooking for her family at Christmas, the turkey, Ham her Christmas cake and pudding that has been handed down for generations. Both Grandparents where amazing cooks.

This is My Story Merry Christmas to all who read.

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Thank you for taking the time to read my advert. 28/11/2021

1983 My Story begins catering a large after party on a Saturday night for the one and only flamboyant Peter Allen.

The venue “Belle Vue” restaurant, a two-story grand 100-hundred-year-old mansion. Owned, operated, and converted by Richard Milne. In its glory, this build was transformed into beautiful restaurant of the era “80’s”

The Belle Vue wasn’t well known for great food and service, bookings 3 to 4 weeks in advance.

The Saturday night in 1983, approximately 11.30pm there was to be a after party cocktail party for Peter Allen and his cast. The cast came, ate, drank, and left in a very short time, may be an hour. Mr. Peter Allen never came.

Sunday morning, I received a call from my boss Richard, could I please come into work, the cast wish to have there last after party tonight at 11.30pm. When you are a young chef and trying to make a name for yourself, you don’t refuse.

The function was prepared, the time came for the after party. The cast came and still no star.

Our maître d’ Dale, a very tall man, professional to the core, flung open the “in door” to the kitchen, in walked Peter Allen, a man who stood approximately 5 foot 7 inches tall.

Mr. Allen came over to me and apologised for not attending his after party, he mentioned he stayed back after his show, wasn’t happy with his own performance and believed he needed more of rehearsal to get his performance right.

We chatted for some time, mentioning how small the kitchen I work in and how do you get all this wonderful food out so quickly.

Slowly the restaurant kitchen became the life of the party, Peter Allen stayed in the kitchen introducing me to his manager, cast and etc… this after party didn’t go for an hour, I remember leaving 5.30am in the morning.

To this day Peter Allen would be one of the most humble, professional, and nicest celebrity I have ever met. What I took away from him, is to stay humble, be professional and honest to yourself.

This is My Story, the 80’s was an interesting decade.

Jeffrey R. Gear

My love of art oil painting, the relaxation, lowering of blood pressure after a stressful day working in a hot pressurized boiling point of a kitchen.

Being a chef as chefs know, it’s stressful enough, the pressure is always on demand and striving for perfection, which is art on a plate.

This artistic avenue which I have been playing with for over 50 years. Has been my escape from the reality of work, staff issues of trivia, the global problems of society that only governments can fix.

When I paint, issues abound peel away by layers of the day, nothing is more important than you, at that time.

1996 I was lucky enough to meet and study more professional painting technics under John Myatt, UK artist.

Mr. Myatt is a brilliant artist, who could copy an original paining from Picasso, Rembrandt etc… and sell for millions of pounds.  He was caught in 1995 for forgery, spent time for a crime. Now he teaches art and brush technics.

1997 I had my first art exhibition, this was exciting, stressful, humiliating, fun, ordinary, posh all rolled into one. Criticism, like cooking, you need thick skin and take comments on the chin. “Everyone is an artist” like “everyone is a chef”

People ask “do you sell all your paintings” I guess in reality “NO”

I donate some artwork for charity, raising monies for a cause is more important, to help and benefit others less fortunate. Believe we all have a talent, mine is food and what you can create, eat, and enjoy with friends, painting what you can achieve with colour, my animals they give unconditional love, my garden which gives me joy.

I have been asked what you like to paint. Portraits, landscapes from where I grew up on a dairy / sheep farm central highland of Victoria, man from snowy river country, that is another story to be told.  

I copy from pictures of the internet, photographs, other artists woks, if I am coping from a master artist there is always a flaw placed in the painting to ensure not an original, portraits I enjoy, bring the canvas alive and seeing a face appear.

This is MY STORY Jeffrey Gear

The year 1983, a very young professional cook, I was asked by dignitaries of a higher level to Australian Government, to cook for overseas visitors for a week at “Woomargama” sheep station, just outside of Albury in New South Wales. Woomargama is renowned for breeding merino sheep.

My brief was to prepare breakfast and dinner using local Australian produce. Menus was of course where submitted months before any guests arrived. I still didn’t know who or whom I was cooking for.

All food suggestions where approved and preparation began a day before arrival of 30+ guests.

On the day of guest’s arrival, I was briefed again not to engage with anyone, especially the media, this was extremely important and requested. We were told if you heard or over-heard a conversation, you are not to repeat.

My accommodation for the duration of the week, a bed sit off the main hallway of the station house, I remember briefly it was quaint.

I remember too well that day how hot it was, a storm had just hit, I could hear voices in the room next door, (the lounge room). Suddenly the door to the kitchen flung open, like a whirl wind a young lady said in a very posh English voice. “Hello, your Jeffrey.  I’m Diana” I know all about you, how are you? With her hand straight out to shake my hand.

With a shock of seeing Diana Princess of Wales. “I believe I said, OH your royal highness, I’m well, would like some water? How are you? Are you having a good trip?

Diana with her smile, new I was nervous

There was also a chef that accompanied the entourage of guests Mervyn Wycherley (who would have known I would be working with Chef Wycherley in the future.)

Her conversations over that period of a week made anyone feel at ease.

I remember there was baby Prince William. Also, a helicopter ready on the property for Royals to leave if there was a breach to media.

Prince Charles loved talking about food and the fond memories he had when he went to school at Timber Top in Victoria not far from Mansfield where I was born. This was a special time and memories to share of one part of My Story, Jeffrey R Gear