From Boardrooms to Bush Tucker: Why I Swapped a $250k Job for Kangaroo Salami
Introduction
Not many people walk away from a six-figure salary, a corporate corner office, and two decades of stability to serve strangers kangaroo salami and finger lime cocktails. But that’s exactly what I did. And this isn’t a story about giving it all up. It’s about finally showing up.
Table of Contents
The Wake-Up Call
Craving More Than Corporate
Why Native Food? Why Now?
Building Something Real (and Really Delicious)
From Spreadsheets to Saltbush
What I’ve Learned So Far
Conclusion: Wildly Australian, Deeply Local
The Wake-Up Call
It started with a trade famil. One of those glossy industry events where operators show off their best. Except it wasn’t. My first experience showcasing native Australian food to international agents nearly made me vomit. Not from nerves—though there were plenty of those—but from the stark realisation that almost no one in our industry was offering real Australian food. Not meat pies. Not avo toast. I mean lemon myrtle, wattleseed, saltbush, crocodile, green ants. The stuff that tells a story. Our story.
Craving More Than Corporate
After 22 years in finance, I was comfortable. But comfort turned into boredom. I had become an expert in spreadsheets, risk mitigation, and 4 p.m. coffee breaks. What I couldn’t seem to find, however, was a sense of purpose. And then it hit me—I was making big decisions for billion-dollar projects, but couldn’t answer a simple question: What does Australia actually taste like?
Why Native Food? Why Now?
Most visitors leave Australia without ever tasting native ingredients. Think about that. They fly halfway around the world, and never try finger lime, bush tomato, or Davidson plum. We have something no other country does: a pantry 60,000 years in the making. Yet it’s invisible on most menus. That had to change. So I built the thing I couldn’t find: authentic, story-rich, native-first food experiences.
Building Something Real (and Really Delicious)
The Australian Food Guy started with nothing but an idea, a dodgy logo, and a lot of blind faith. No partners. No bookings. Just grit, wild flavours, and stories that needed to be told. Today, we run foraging tours, distillery experiences, chocolate and coffee tastings, and curated native food picnics. We partner with legends: Indigenous producers, rogue chefs, passionate growers, and craft distillers who are rewriting what it means to eat in Australia.
From Spreadsheets to Saltbush
It wasn’t all Instagrammable food plates and applause. My first market stall flopped. One guest’s lunch got stolen. I biked through a storm for $20. And yet… that same guest left the best review I’ve ever received. That’s when I realised: this isn’t about perfection. It’s about heart. Our guests aren’t looking for polished scripts or posh tablecloths. They want connection, story, surprise. They want to leave feeling like they finally tasted Australia.
What I’ve Learned So Far
Start ugly. Start anyway.
People remember how you made them feel, not your pitch deck.
There is no plan B. Just plan A with a lot of pivots.
Native food isn’t a trend. It’s our future.
Conclusion: Wildly Australian, Deeply Local
Leaving the boardroom wasn’t a breakdown. It was a breakthrough. I didn’t walk away from success—I redefined it. Today, my office smells like eucalyptus, my team includes distillers and bush bakers, and my days are filled with guests gasping at the zing of green ants on their tongue.
It turns out, kangaroo salami tastes better than KPIs.
Wildly Australian, deeply local.
