ABSTRACT
When I first arrived, having migrated from Canada to Australia, the overwhelming jumble of impressions, the gaps of knowledge, the constant pressure of ignorance, the incommensurability of ways of knowing; all these I felt in my guts: ‘les tripes as research protocol’ (Probyn 1996: 1552). As is often the case, I have ingested my experience, turned my stomach into a research project, and in the course of studying food and belonging, I have eaten my way into slices of Australian identity. Rare kangaroo and smoked emu, Barossa chooks and beautiful steak, lamb, fish, lemongrass and paper bark. I now have an alimentary acquaintance with Mod Oz.
