A Seasonal Table with Dom Gattermayr

Dom’s story begins on a staircase. “I grew up around kitchens, both commercial and at home,” she says. “My parents owned a café and food store, and we lived in the apartment above. Mum is a chef, and she introduced us to every kind of food and to hosting from a young age.” Her route wasn’t the hard-line traditional culinary education. “I haven’t had the ‘yes, chef’ path-it’s been a lifetime of learning, and using those experiences to build the kitchen I want to be part of.” That autonomy softened the edges of work. “Doing it my way, cooking what I love, repeating dishes and changing them a little with the seasons makes it joyful.” You taste that in the food: it’s relaxed, handmade, and assured. Even garnishes earn their place; finishes are felt, not forced.

For hosting over the holidays, that philosophy becomes a blueprint: it's a seasonal table that feels organic, generous, and bright. "I prefer abundance and colour over minimal, refined plating," Dom says. "A nice splash of oil, a bright herb, some lemon zest, often that's what a dish is missing. But it's important not to add anything for the sake of it."

Asked what her childhood Christmas tasted like, and Dom answers in nostalgic snapshots of gingerbread houses, raspberry jello, glazed ham, and vanilla kipferl posted from Austria by her Oma. The family continues to gather on Christmas Eve. “We’ll do a spread of cold entrées, with seafood, cured fish, and cold meats,” she says. “It’s less cooking, more preparing and enjoying eating all together. It’s better when nobody’s stuck in the kitchen.” With most of the family in hospitality, this string of shared days off feels luxurious in its slower pace. Her favourite hour is late afternoon–with the sun easing down, plates a little scattered, conversation still looping around the table. Drinks become quiet bookends: a French 75 to open, a small amaro to close.

At the centre of Dom's festive table is cured fish, often ocean trout, served with crème fraîche, radishes, cornichons and whatever crisp, fresh things appeal to her senses that week. The method is almost disarmingly simple: an even mix of salt and sugar, a patient few days in the fridge, then slice and dress. "We always have cured fish on the menu at Florian and Juniper," she says, "but it's also a family thing that every Christmas someone brings trout or salmon'' It’s quietly generous, too. “You can serve some on the day and keep the rest for the week as the celebration kind of rolls on." The cured dish becomes day-after lunch with bread and a cold beer; then a late breakfast with cucumbers or a final paper-thin petal folded through a salad.

Dom’s rules for the day are more gentle and welcoming than stuck in formality. “Dress salads at the last minute,” she says. “Keep water and ice where people can reach them. Put dishes out family-style so the conversation leads.” Drinks become quiet bookends: a French 75 to open, a small amaro to close, and she’ll always finish with something she can trust: a lime brûlée that sets overnight and earns its caramel flair at the table. “I’m not a big dessert chef,” she says, “so I like things you can make ahead. With the brûlée, you know it’s set, you know it tastes right–then you just torch and serve.”