Out of the fire into the frying pan

Tucked away in the back of Canberra's industrial heartland, there's a reasonably unremarkable kitchen turning out some surprising food.

The benches are a blue laminate, the walls a pastel yellow-painted brick, and the dining chairs are the plain fabric type that you commonly see in an old conference room. Beside the oversized ovens is an old, heavy-duty fire glove in place of an oven mitt.

But from the kitchen of the Fyshwick Fire Station comes delicacies such as 10-hour pulled pork, slow-cooked lamb shanks, barbecue ribs, ''grandma's secret recipe'' meatloaf, even pizzas made from scratch along a production line manned by a tight-knit band of men.

When we arrive, the bench is littered with serving spoons and a couple of big electric cookers, with the last scraps of dinner waiting for a hungry firefighter to front up for a second serving. Tonight's meal, a simple green chicken curry, is courtesy of crew member Brian Pini.

The next night, Neal Hall will enlist the help of the whole crew to make pizzas, one of his more popular dishes.

''Normally, Friday night - footy night - I'll do pizzas. So we'll make the dough, cut all the stuff up, and make them from scratch. I'm pretty lucky, because my daughter's a chef, so I sort of pick her brains,'' Hall says.

It wasn't always like this. Hall, who has been in the job for 27 years, says crews used to cook a Sunday roast or Saturday scones if they weren't out on jobs, and then the guys would generally fend for themselves during the week. But when a Canadian firefighter on exchange offered to cook the crew a meatloaf, a new tradition was born.

''If you go around the world, firies pretty much do it anyway - sit and eat together - that's a big part of being at the station. You basically live together, and it becomes an easy way to eat if someone volunteers to cook or everybody gets in and does it,'' he says.

''When you're standing around at home and you're cooking and you're just talking about your day with your family, it's much the same here. We're standing around the bench, chopping up vegetables, but firies tend to not ask about [each other's days] - we just bag each other out.''

The banter continues around the large dining table, as a group of about 12 men shovel down big bowls of curry and rice, and talk footy, television and life. For the firefighters, cooking together makes sense on a number of levels, commander Jim Schlizio says.

''It just works out better logistically to eat as a group, and it just enhances that team-building that we rely on so much and is part of this job,'' he says.

Schlizio says the home-made meals are also cheaper and healthier than the alternatives, particularly for the Fyshwick crew working the 6pm to 8am night shift.

''That's one of the reasons this is the preferred option, rather than having takeaway and going out to buy hamburgers and scallops and chips - that's a rarity.''

It's rare to get through a whole meal without at least one of the trucks being called out on a job. We're there on one of those lucky nights. Schlizio says the guys accept it as part of the job - they'll come back and reheat the meals when they can, or, if it's a long job, they'll be fed an alternative at the scene. And if they're still cooking when the alarm goes off, there are timers on the ovens so they don't come back to a fire of their own.

While the crews are generally commended for their courage in difficult situations when they're on a job, Schlizio says it can be a different story in the kitchen.

''We can go out and do all the things we do, fire and rescues … we very, very, very rarely have an injury doing that. But the amount of injuries that occur in a kitchen, simple things like slicing fingers with bread knives, overshadows all of that. Our workers' compensation in relation to [the kitchen] supersedes [the fires and rescues] by a country mile, and that's official,'' he says with a laugh.

Accidents in the kitchen haven't deterred some of the younger members from jumping in to cook - or from being pushed in by their mates. Adam White, a relatively new recruit, says it was a new experience for him.

''I never cooked until I joined the fire brigade. I just used to knock basic stuff up … I used to fend for myself a bit,'' he says. ''Since I've joined the fire brigade, it's just gotten a bit more adventurous.''

Now White is known for his cheesecake, has learnt a few different curries, and says he's been urged on by his peers. ''I think it's the pressure from the other blokes. You don't want to cook something bad and get bagged out for it, so I try to put a bit of effort into it,'' he says.

The more experienced Hall says getting in and having a go is what it's all about.

''I think the good thing is that blokes are learning to cook, too,'' he says. ''Blokes who don't cook at home come in here and they start learning - just by being part of the group - how things go together. And you try things. We did fish and chips on Good Friday. We battered our fish, and made our own chips, and we made sweet potato chips as well as normal chips.

''It's a really good way to bond, especially with the young blokes. When [they] come in we say we've got a night where you can cook. So we put the pressure on them to come in and cook for 11 or 12 blokes.''

The shared cooking is common practice across all of Canberra's fire stations, and the Fyshwick crew says it runs to a pretty informal roster. Someone usually puts their hand up, or has their hand put up for them. On the night shift, much of the cooking is done at home then brought in and finished off in the communal kitchen. There is a little bit of competition - there are two blokes with secret meatloaf recipes - and plenty of scrutiny from the armchair critics around the table. But, ultimately, it's about team-building, and Schlizio says it works.

''It's probably one of the best bonding things for a workforce,'' he says. ''You'll find if someone's going through hardship, it's really unique how everyone bonds together to help them out.''

>> Hamish Boland-Rudder is a staff reporter.