Touching the Earth Lightly: An Architectural Pilgrimage to Berowra Waters Inn
- Jing Lens
- Aug 8
- 12 min read
Tasting the Landscape at “A Veranda by the Water” — A Symphony of Architecture, Landscape and Gastronomy
Berowra Waters Inn offers a rare convergence of architecture,landscape and gastronomy—an opportunity to experience Murcutt’s architecture not merely to be observed, but to be inhabited
The Genesis of a Pilgrimage: Where Architecture Meets Gastronomy
I spent two months studying Glenn Murcutt’s architectural philosophy and body of work before finally booking a table at Berowra Waters Inn—his inaugural restaurant commission.
I have long held an innate affinity for experiences where architecture becomes a vessel: a medium through which nature quietly participates, and stories emerge organically through inhabitation. Quite serendipitously, I encountered Murcutt’s work in an architectural magazine, and I was immediately captivated by his architectural language and design ethos.
Murcutt’s architecture does not seek to assert itself as an independent object. Instead, it becomes an instrument—a delicate response to its milieu, landscape, climate and the rhythms of the natural world. He captured this philosophy most eloquently through the expression that architecture should “touch the earth lightly”—one of the most poetic and evocative architectural ideal I have encountered.
Murcutt has also remarked that designing architecture without serenity in mind is a mistake, for it is serenity that ultimately elicits joy. This philosophy resonated with me on both a visceral and existential level. Through months of dedicated research into his portfolio, the seed of an architectural pilgrimage was planted—a desire that gradually evolved into an irresistible longing to experience his architecture in person. As the only Australian architect to receive the Pritzker Architecture Prize, Glenn Murcutt occupies a unique position within Australian architecture. Unlike many internationally celebrated architects whose legacies are defined by monumental civic or cultural buildings, Murcutt has remained a sole practitioner, dedicating his career primarily to residential and institutional projects. As a result, many of his most celebrated works are private residences inaccessible to the public, making opportunities to inhabit his architecture exceptionally rare.
Berowra Waters Inn therefore represents far more than a destination for fine dining. It offers a rare convergence of architecture, landscape and gastronomy—an opportunity to experience Murcutt’s architecture not merely as something to be observed, but as something to be inhabited. Set on Berowra Creek, a tributary of the Hawkesbury River, the site has been significant to Indigenous people for thousands of years, with a teahouse and guest house established here in the 1920s. Murcutt transformed the existing building from the mid-1970s, completing the final stage in1983 through a distinctly Australian language of sandstone, corrugated metal and glass louvres. I envisioned an arrival by boat across Berowra Creek, gradually unfolding through a carefully choreographed sequence of spatial transitions before culminating in a thoughtfully curated Australian degustation. I imagined an experience that would be immersive, expansive and profoundly sensory—a constellation of architecture, landscape and gastronomy woven into a seamless narrative.
What unfolded ultimately surpassed those expectations. Rather than experiencing architecture, nature and cuisine as separate elements, I found them inseparable. Each quietly informed and amplified the others, choreographing an experience greater than the sum of its parts. Together, they formed a tapestry of storytelling that has vividly etched in my memory, continuing to reverberate long after I departed the river’s edge.
After being dropped off near the wharf, I felt as though I had been whisked away into an entirely different terrain
The Choreography of Arrival: A Journey Beyond Accessibility
It was a weather-blessed Sunday morning, setting my architectural pilgrimage on a high note and preparing me for a dining journey that was never designed around linear access or a direct pathway.
Berowra Waters Inn is often described as “a veranda by the water”—a phrase that beautifully captures its intimate relationship with the surrounding landscape. Its geographical setting serves a dual purpose: both a barrier to accessibility and an essential contributor to its distinctive atmosphere.
As someone who primarily relies on public transport, I initially felt a hint of apprehension about organising this trip. Yet my experiences of venturing to some of the world’s most secluded islands and navigating Japan’s famously intricate transport network had taught me that destinations defined by logistical complexity often reveal their greatest rewards in hindsight. Such journeys have perpetually become memorable chapters in the archive of my life.Rather than an inconvenience, each became part of the anticipation, gradually heightening my connection with the place before I even arrived. It took a sequence of transitions: a train ride, a taxi transfer, and finally a complimentary boat provided by the restaurant, carrying me across Berowra Creek towards my destination. Looking back, every transfer felt worthwhile.
The story, however, began long before I reached the restaurant.
My Uber driver was a recent university graduate studying agriculture and food science, driven by a genuine desire to make a positive impact on human health. I could hardly think of many other visions that are as inspiring as reshaping the future of food and human wellbeing.
Although our conversation lasted only a short drive, it quickly moved beyond conventional small talk. By the end, the driver remarked that our exchange had been unexpectedly thoughtful and in-depth. Perhaps I had unconsciously put on my “podcaster hat”. Years of conversations and interviews have cultivated a habit of observing, listening, and discovering the stories behind people. Without realising it, I had already begun weaving the first thread of storytelling into this architectural pilgrimage.
After being dropped off near the wharf, I felt as though I had been whisked away into an entirely different terrain. The midday light gently illuminated the glistening waters of Berowra Creek. A myriad of boats gathered along the shoreline, arranged horizontally parallel to the riverbank, integrating into a tranquil composition against the vast expanse of water.
Then came a moment of unexpected spectacle.
A vehicle-loaded ferry cut through the creek, roaring towards the shore and leaving a trail of white spray in its wake—a rather unusual sight from my perspective, almost cinematic in its scale and movement. The scene momentarily captured my attention, yet I soon regained focus and continued searching for the pickup point. With weak phone reception adding a hint of uncertainty, I was fortunate to receive guidance from the transport attendant and eventually confirmed my location with the restaurant.
The story arc continued to unfold with its own cadence and fluidity, gradually building towards an emotional crescendo at the moment of arrival
Not long afterwards, a lady steered a small boat towards me. I could not help expressing my genuine relief and excitement. Alex, the warm and welcoming boat operator, immediately reciprocated my enthusiasm after learning that this was my first visit to Berowra Waters Inn.
Although the crossing lasted only a short time, Alex and I exchanged stories about hidden gems around Sydney waiting to be unlocked. In that brief encounter, another thread was quietly woven into the tapestry of the experience. The story arc continued to unfold with its own cadence and fluidity, gradually building towards an emotional crescendo at the moment of arrival.
This was Murcutt's "veranda by the water" made tangible—a place where domestic intimacy, site responsiveness and serenity coalesced into a singular spatial experience
The Threshold of Inhabitation: Architecture Emerging from the Landscape
Stepping onto the deck, I paused almost instinctively to recalibrate my senses.
There was something surreal about witnessing a vision that had existed only in my imagination gradually transform into reality. Before me, an architectural presence emerged from the site rather than being imposed upon it. Its corrugated roof immediately spoke its vernacular identity, while its elongated horizontal form entered into a quiet dialogue with the landscape, allowing the building to merge seamlessly with its surroundings rather than compete through vertical massing or the pursuit of monumentality.
At first glance, Murcutt’s tectonic thinking was immediately evident. Bathed in the raking afternoon light, the sandstone façade revealed its natural veins, subtle variations in hue and rich geological texture. Light gently grazed the surface, continuously animating the building through shifting patterns of shadow.
Ascending the stairs towards the dining space, I encountered an atmosphere that felt remarkably domestic—more akin to entering a carefully considered residence than a conventional hospitality venue.
Murcutt’s tectonic expression was further reinforced through his unwavering commitment to material integrity. The timber flooring and stone fireplace, having quietly endured for more than four decades, revealed a timelessness born not from spectacle but from honest craftsmanship. Rather than demanding attention, these materials aged gracefully, allowing their longevity to speak for itself.
What distinguished the building was not simply the exposure of materials, but the way every architectural decision appeared to serve both practical necessity and experiential quality, responding sensitively to its surroundings, topography and climate. The expansive banks of glass louvres demonstrated this tectonic clarity most convincingly. Replacing conventional mullion-and-transom glazing, the louvres transcended mere aesthetic expression, establishing a rhythmic architectural language while responding intelligently to ventilation, climate and framed views.
Rather than separating technical performance from architectural expression, Murcutt fused the two, allowing environmental responsiveness to become an integral part of the architecture.
There was no excessive ornamentation, no concealed construction and no attempt to disguise the building’s making. A curated collection of commissioned artworks by local artists enriched the interior, introducing layers of refinement and ease while allowing the restaurant’s residential warmth to quietly permeate the space.
My table was positioned beside the expansive louvred glazing, dissolving the boundary between interior and exterior. Beyond it, the riverside landscape became inseparable from the act of dining. Architecture did not merely frame nature as a picturesque backdrop; it invited the landscape to become an active participant in the experience itself.
In this convergence, no element was rendered subordinate to another. Architecture, landscape and hospitality existed in quiet equilibrium. This was Murcutt's "veranda by the water" made tangible—a place where domestic intimacy, site responsiveness and serenity coalesced into a singular spatial experience.
The journey, the encounters, and the architecture itself had gently recalibrated my state of mind. I was no longer simply waiting for a meal; I was ready to inhabit the gastronomic experience that followed.
The degustation became another interpretation of place. Across the six-course menu, Australian ingredients became a thematic thread, resembling an ecological map of the country
Tasting the Landscape: Gastronomy as an Expression of Place
The degustation became another interpretation of place. Across the six-course menu, Australian ingredients became a thematic thread, almost resembling an ecological map of the country. Native ingredients such as emu egg, bunya nut, bush tomato, Dorrigo pepper and finger lime appeared alongside seafood sourced from Australian waters, constructing a culinary expression deeply rooted in landscape and provenance. The emphasis was not on rarity for its own sake, but on expressing the diversity of Australian environments through seasonality, origin and thoughtful composition.The Hawkesbury Prawn quietly echoed the very waters I had crossed earlier that afternoon, while native ingredients such as Davidson plum hinted at a broader exploration of Australian landscape and provenance.
Among the opening amuse-bouches, a savoury macaron filled with chicken liver parfait created one of the most memorable textural contrasts of the meal. The delicate sweetness of the shell gave way to a rich, silky interior that dissolved almost instantly on the palate, immediately establishing the restaurant's philosophy of precision, restraint and quiet confidence.
The degustation spanned over three hours, with generous intervals between each course. Initially, I wondered whether such extended pauses might interrupt the rhythm of the meal. Instead, they became an essential part of the experience—allowing me to recalibrate my own tempo, surrender to the restaurant's deliberate cadence, and fully immerse myself in its slower rhythm.
Those generous intervals also offered an unexpected privilege: I could momentarily step out of the role of a diner and return to being an observer of architecture. With no urgency to proceed, I meandered through the building and its surroundings, allowing Murcutt's architecture to reveal itself gradually through movement, changing light and careful observation.
I remain deeply grateful for these encounters and shared stories. They transformed myvisit from a simple dining experience into an act of attentive observation and quiet discovery—an opportunity to listen to the site through architecture, landscape and human connection
I wandered towards the patio, where the space gently opened towards the landscape. Amid the restrained palette of sandstone, timber and corrugated steel, a vivid cluster of pink chairs introduced an unexpected note of playfulness. Their presence immediately prompted curiosity: why pink? Rather than disrupting the architectural language, they softened it, introducing a human warmth that reminded me restraint need not exclude delight.
My attention then returned to the corrugated metal roof, tracing its elongated profile as it stretched quietly in dialogue with the mountain ridgeline beyond. Descending towards the deck, I encountered the sandstone at a far more intimate scale. Here, raking sunlight continued its delicate choreography across the surface, revealing veins, mineral grains and subtle tonal variations that could only be appreciated through slow observation.
I soon crossed paths with Alex once again—the boat operator who had welcomed me who set me up for this architectural and gastronomic pilgrimage. She encouraged me to look even closer at the sandstone, pointing out its natural veins, mineral grains and subtle shifts in colour, explaining how they echoed the geological identity of the site itself. What I had initially perceived simply as a façade gradually revealed itself as something far richer—a geological record embedded within the architecture. She then directed my attention across Berowra Creek towards the distinctive native Christmas trees lining the opposite bank, sharing local anecdotes that added yet another layer of meaning to the landscape before me.
I remain deeply grateful for these encounters and shared stories. They transformed myvisit from a simple dining experience into an act of attentive observation and quiet discovery—an opportunity to listen to the site through architecture, landscape and human connection. Together, these moments became threads woven into the fabric of my own becoming.
The ever-changing choreography of light and shadow quietly animated the interior, inducing a profound sense of serenity that encouraged a slower and more contemplative rhythm of dining
Returning to the dining room, I experienced the spatial sequence with renewed awareness. Beyond its material expression, what resonated most deeply was how the interior atmosphere continued Murcutt's residential sensibility. Despite being a celebrated dining destination, the space never felt formal or distant. Instead, its modest scale, material honesty and intimate relationship with the landscape created an immediate sense of domestic ease, allowing each course to be received with attentiveness rather than ceremony.
Between courses, my gaze often drifted from the table towards the paintings and sketches displayed along the walls. Raking afternoon sunlight filtered through the expansive louvred glazing, grazing the plaster walls and timber flooring, revealing textures, grains and subtle imperfections. The ever-changing choreography of light and shadow quietly animated the interior, inducing a profound sense of serenity that encouraged a slower and more contemplative rhythm of dining.
When the culinary journey resumed, The Emu Egg, Bunya Nut & Crab particularly captured my imagination. The luxurious richness of the crab met the delicate texture of the emu egg, creating a composition that balanced familiarity with discovery. I sensed subtle Japanese influences in both its precision and restraint, an impression further reinforced by the thoughtfully selected ceramics and utensils accompanying each course. Every object appeared intentionally chosen, allowing ingredient, vessel and experience to exist in quiet dialogue. The cuisine, much like Murcutt's architecture, never sought to overwhelm through excess. Instead, it revealed its character through sensitivity, balance and respect for origin. Landscape, craftsmanship and human experience converged into a singular narrative where each quietly amplified the others.
The arrival of a seaplane sweeping across the water injected another layer of dynamism into the afternoon
With my senses now fully attuned, the architecture continued to reveal moments of unexpected juxtaposition. Just as the vivid pink chairs had introduced playfulness into Murcutt's ottherwise restrained architectural palette, the arrival of a seaplane sweeping across the water injected another layer of dynamism into the afternoon. The restaurant can only be reached by seaplane or boat, offering two contrasting modes of arrival: one quiet and immersive, the other dramatic and theatrical. While I had chosen to approach by boat, gently moving across the water, a lovely couple landed by seaplane, making a grand entrance of their own. I later discovered that they were seated beside me, uniting two different paths at the same destination. Accompanied by the powerful sound of its engine and the white spray trailing behind it, the spectacle could easily have become a disturbance. Yet within this setting, it felt less like noise than another performance of the landscape—a fleeting moment of energy that animated, rather than disrupted, the surrounding serenity.
Earlier, one of the waiters had quietly mentioned that around three o'clock the sunlight would reach its finest expression, casting a luminous glow across the glistening waters .As the moment approached, I stepped outside once again. A gentle breeze brushed across my face while the creek flowed quietly below, its occasional splashes forming a soft acoustic backdrop. Standing there, I realised I was no longer simply visiting a restaurant—I had surrendered completely to the art of staying.
Returning to my table, I sensed the symphony gradually drawing towards its finale. The storytelling arc continued to unfold as the chef came to greet me. I expressed my genuine appreciation for the thoughtfulness and intention behind each composition. In return, he shared memories of growing up in Singapore and reflected on how those experiences had shaped his perspective on both cuisine and life. The conversation became yet another reminder that every remarkable meal ultimately begins with a human story.
Throughout the afternoon, every member of the team contributed to an experience that felt both exceptional and effortless. Their hospitality extended far beyond attentive service; it became another layer of storytelling woven seamlessly into the experience itself.
Around three o'clock,the sunlight would reach its finest expression, casting a luminous glow across the glistening waters Standing there, I realised I was no longer simply visiting a restaurant—I had surrendered completely to the art of staying
As I descended once again towards the deck, Alex was still waiting nearby. In that quiet moment, the journey came full circle. I boarded the boat carrying far more than memories of an extraordinary meal. I left with a deeper understanding of Murcutt's architecture—not simply as buildings to be admired, but as places that quietly recalibrate perception, inviting us to slow down, to observe more closely, and ultimately, to inhabit the world with greater attentiveness.
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