Would people really
MOIRA
Claire.
CLAIRE
Moira.
MOIRA
What are we doing here?
CLAIRE
I think that we're trying to get to the bottom of a very non-problem, problem.
MOIRA
The best kind of problem, really.
CLAIRE
Set menus or ala carte?
MOIRA
A la carté versus set menu.
CLAIRE
It's going to be hard for you to change my mind to ever want to pick a set menu.
MOIRA
It's going to be hard to change your, or our minds, ever.
CLAIRE
Unless I'm going regional destination dining, or somewhere really fancy and every single part of the meal and experience has been meticulously thought out, I never, ever want a set menu.
MOIRA
Very fair.
CLAIRE
I'm too picky. That's for starters. I love that going out to dinner is about the adventure and getting to decide and make decisions. I don't really want someone to take that out of my hands.
MOIRA
Totally. I also feel, having worked in restaurants, set menus are famously a scam to push head spends. Actually, that's not always true, but set menus are financially strategic ploys for restaurants to guarantee a higher-than-average spend on food. But God, it’s so much food.
CLAIRE
So much food. I think the way that I dine out is very specific. I kind of avoid mains. I'm like a multiple-entree person.
MOIRA
Mains are minimal.
CLAIRE
I want snacks. I want try the most amount of things. So, if you tell me that I'm going to get one thing, a main, another thing, and two desserts, I'm going to be bummed out. Dining to me is how I feel in the moment and how I want to eat. It's not, helpful to be like, “we're taking this decision fatigue that you have off of the table.” I want to make decisions, sweetie.
MOIRA
Though, I do feel like we’re both the kind of people who are comfortable making decisions on what our table is eating and drinking. And are trusted to do so. I think we may be a rarer breed.
CLAIRE
Maybe we’re the set menu of our group.
MOIRA
Haha, I reckon. Man, I went to Ten Minute by Tractor with my family for their set menu and they had an additional dish you could add on. We wanted to get three to share between us and they said no.
CLAIRE
I absolutely despise that. It should be up to my discretion as a diner, as the person who's paying to be there, to order that many things. What's the logistical nightmare of me ordering less food that goes to waste?
MOIRA
It’s not a logistical nightmare. It’s a spend nightmare for restaurants who can't put an extra $18 for a singular foraged pine mushroom on the bill.
CLAIRE
I think this all the time. They're forever saying, you can't share things because they’re one bite. I'm like, I've never eaten one thing in one bite in my life. I've never taken a whole thing, insert whatever the snack is, put it directly into my mouth and eaten it in a single bite. I remember Chateaubriand in Paris, I had their famous dessert. A caramelised egg yolk so when you bite into it, it's this oozy, dessert egg. The guy kept saying, “you have to eat this in one bite”. And I was like, “I'm telling you, I cannot do it”. I don't care. It ruins the experience. I don't want to eat this in one bite. I hate eating things in one bite.
MOIRA
Are you telling me that when you’re doing an omakase in Japan, you’d–
CLAIRE
Oh, look, in a dream world, I want to eat sushi in two bites. If I didn't feel like people were going to absolutely shame me, I would have loved a knife and fork.
MOIRA
Screaming.
CLAIRE
Even though I know how twisted that is.
MOIRA
The only time that I am pro set menu is when I'm dining as a big group. Or with people who are going to be annoying about the splitting bill in the end because they didn’t have an oyster. I’m constantly waiting on groups sans a Claire or Moira spitting out completely heinous orders with no logic and without knowing how to facilitate a good group order and thinking the meal is average at the end. I’d choose a set menu over that.
CLAIRE
I tend to agree in that regard. To me, I understand why restaurants have set menus. It's easier for the kitchen. That’s par for the course and we're coming in with a more frustrating configuration. What annoys me is that as dining changes in Melbourne, we're seeing more and more places where it's six or more and you have to do a set menu. And I'm like, six people?! Six people's hardly any people!
MOIRA
Shock, we’re extroverts.
CLAIRE
I'm like, I know more than five people and I need to go to dinner. Does that mean we could only really go to Cantonese restaurants?
MOIRA
Restaurant logic, baby.
CLAIRE
I also think there's an element of set menus at formulaic restaurants where they stop you from ordering a la carte, where you lose the excitement of dining out and what comes out has that sharehouse potluck energy. You don't feel like the thing you're having is special, and then you have that sunk cost fallacy where you've spent this much and it didn't even feel exciting.
MOIRA
And there are these set menus where they're just carb-loading you. You've just given me bread, then you’re giving me pasta, and now potatoes. I can see what you're doing. I think there's this whole thing of needing to walk away after having a set menu being painfully full. Do you reckon that started with Chin Chin’s Feed Me menu bullshit?
CLAIRE
That's the first one I remember. God, the Feed Me menu. It's very ‘the upwardly mobile global city dining’. And I'm telling you, ten years ago, this was not a thing.
MOIRA
I do still fuck with a set menu if it's like a regional, farm-to-table-esque, destination dining place. Though I guess that’s a degustation. Wait, are set menus and degs the same thing?
CLAIRE
Like, I'm thinking Chauncey.
MOIRA
Muni. Agrarian Kitchen.
CLAIRE
Tedesca. Yes, where the expectation is that it’s this long, winding affair. But if I'm going out to dinner on a Friday night for my friend's 28th birthday, I'm not expecting that I'm going to be there for, like, 4 hours and that this is going to be this extra special thing.
MOIRA
If a place only does set menu, then hell yeah. But very rarely is the place that offers a set menu in addition to the a la carte menu, somewhere that you should be ordering the set menu. I like knowing that there's not another option. I think it's the idea of there being an option of a set menu and having to opt in, as opposed to it being the default.
CLAIRE
Oh, my God, you have stumbled on something perfect. That is exactly. That is exactly the problem. The problem is that I don't like knowing that there's other things that I could have gotten that I would have preferred. Like, see, which at the end of the day–
MOIRA
Is the same reason why people want to do set menu. It’s FOMO. Our Taurus placements being like, no, I would know best. Don't tell me what I like.
CLAIRE
Give me a shot at that set menu, honey. I'd create the real set menu. Do you think that this is our connoisseur brain rot? That you and I view dining or eating through the lens of value proposition, point of view, taste and experience. And to a lot of people, that scope is really wide and to you and I, it's really small because both write critically about food, are both obsessive about food?
MOIRA
I mean, yes. My brain is always questioning what we've been structurally indoctrinated to like and want over the course of our life experiences. But also, we do both just prioritise deliciousness and value.
CLAIRE
The more I eat out and the more I have to think about food critically, the more I think that point of view is what separates good restaurants from great restaurants. And what I get bummed out about so often about dining out is that why?
MOIRA
Why? Why the hell have you done this? What does this dish say?
CLAIRE
What is this trying to do? What are you trying to say with this? I think I put more priority on that than I used to.
MOIRA
And with that, I say death to set meus.
Gastropubs are the darlings of Melbourne's dining scene, promising the utilitarian comfort of a traditional pub in an elevated setting commensurate with our status as Australia’s food and culture city'. But is this just a branding tactic to con YoPros into believing that $40 for a main (with no sides) is actually a good deal? Could gastropubs just be pub-themed wine bars? Let’s go back to go forward.
Pubs have long been deeply intertwined with Melbourne’s social fabric. They’re a weekly ritual for friendship groups; somewhere to yell loudly at a screen during AFL season; a venue that allows an open-invite for not-milestone birthdays. At pubs, you’re welcome to stay for as little or as long as you please and trade the headache of split bills for rounds of jugs.
‘Brand pub’ is synonymous with comfort: everyone is welcome, no expectations.
The origin of the pub draws all the way back to Australia’s supposed convict origins; historically they existed as a third place for working-class men who had no space to socialise within their own modest homes. This is also why there are comparatively few to be found in New Zealand, which was settled by wealthier Protestants who entertained people in their living rooms– God bless them.
By the 1960s, the large wave of post-war European migrants brought ideas of cosmopolitan leisure to the masses, introducing bistros, wine lists and a clientele that valued urban life. Very quickly, pubs had to compete against restaurants with BYO liquor licences and respond to changing social values that demanded social spaces for more than just rowdy working-class men. Women wanted to drink in public bars, for instance (though it wasn’t until 1966 that the law against it was overturned). So to keep their doors open, pubs had to cater to a broader audience, leading to the introduction of outdoor drinking areas (beer gardens), live music (pub rock), and cheap meals targeted at university students.
More recently, the rapid gentrification of Australian cities’ inner suburbs (and the rapid expansion of foodie culture) birthed the gastropub: establishments that sought to combine the experience of restaurants with the narrative of pubs.
Allpubs have to maintain a semblance of the everyday, because they reflect the great Australian cultural myth: we are a classless society who backs its battlers. Contravening that narrative is a one-way ticket straight to A Current Affair.
But, changing consumer profiles necessitate an elevation in the standard of experience. Put another way, when you have Asian restaurants taking you all the way to Flavourtown and back for sub-$30, dropping a pineapple for a defrosted parma and a pint of Carlton is just not going to cut it.
This is where brand strategy comes in. When we think about a brand, typically we imagine their logos, messaging, design, website, marketing and comms effort. But underpinning that is a strategy: an intentional crafting of every aspect of the experience to evoke a specific feeling.
In the case of gastropubs, the brand is designed to evoke a dual sense of luxury and ease, making patrons feel like they’re getting an upscale experience without the pretentiousness of a fine dining establishment. And that lack of pretension is important because the fine dining experience, or even the wine bar experience, does not work for the average punter.
It’s easy to forget how intimidating this experience can be when you’re not mates with the server. Leather-bound wine tomes, staff clad in black-and-white suits or part-time DJ’s in bleached caps and obscurely named, stingily-portioned dishes– all combine to form a subtext that reads, if you are not a regular attendee of the Euro summer club, babe, we are not for you.
Gastropubs borrow the pleasant elements of the wine bar experience while jettisoning its classist perceptions. Wine lists with no bad options. Seltzers and craft beers on tap alongside Carlton draughts. Menus of familiar dishes with a upmarket, but kitsch twist: roo schnitties, chorizo scotch eggs, retired dairy cow cheeseburgers. Where seasonal small plates keep decreasing in portion size, pub food is guaranteed to be generous and hearty. The fit-outs are luxurious yet cosy, prioritising warmth and comfort over austerity.
It helps that these places are run by some of the most competent, incredibly dialled in, people in the industry. The food is actually really good, and many are taking a conscientious approach to sourcing their produce. Gastropubs partner with some of the best interior design agencies in Melbourne like Bergman and Co. or Studio Co&Co. It’s professional.
This combination of premium and comfort allows gastropubs to raise the consumer price anchor. Suddenly, $50 for a dinner doesn’t seem expensive for a pub; it feels like a steal for a nice restaurant. This brand premiumisation is particularly effective in an economic climate plagued by cozzie livs– everyone is hunting for value. Value is formed in the delta between the perceived experience and what you’re made to pay for it - people are concurrently trading down from low-value extravagant experiences as they trade up from low-value generic pub offerings.
In a way, yes. They’ve taken the best parts of wine bar culture – great food, a premium on ambiance, a curated experience – and packaged them in a way that feels welcoming and inclusive. Gastropubs underscore the power of brand in the hospitality industry. By blending the familiar with the luxurious, these establishments have carved out a niche that appeals to a wide range of consumers.
These are the lessons of the modern luxury industry: offer something elevated, but offer it to everyone. The gastropub is the equivalent of a Louis Vuitton phone case, a Balenciaga dad cap, Gucci socks: an opportunity to be welcomed into a world you didn’t know you were allowed into.
The gastropub brand isn’t trying to pretend to be something it’s not. These venues are simply responding to the evolving tastes of Melbourne’s yuppie diners. The success of gastropubs lies in their ability to adapt to these changing tastes while staying true to the core values of what makes a pub a pub: good food, good drink, and a space where everyone feels like they belong.
Instead of BYO booze, BYO food.
Craving a decent drink but cbf with small plates, pricey dishes or pub food? Got a perfect pairing in mind? These drinks venues pull an uno-reverse card on BYO culture and let you bring your own food while having a Veraison-approved booze list. In the spirit of cozzie livs, you could probably bring home-cooked dishes to have at these places– but maybe don't ask to use their microwave.
A westside stalwart with a wide selection of minimal intervention wines, wild beers and rare spirits. While they have a selection of cheese and charcuterie, open yourself to the possibilities of doro wat with a wild pinot, bánh xèo with a textural rose, or a bottle of bubbles with sushi.
Nearby places we like: Elka Sushi for a sushi and oyster platter, Afghan Master Kebab for a mixed kebab plate, Banh Mi Ba Le for the ‘special’ bánh mì (not for the faint-hearted), Ras Dashen for Ethiopian, Bánh Xèo Tay Do for bánh xèo.
Still severely underrated (but getting more packed every time I visit), this bottleshop-cum-wine bar has Melbourne’s best skewers 100m away. You’ll likely find an untapped pairing from a curated selection of Eastern European wines and left-field cuvees from well-known producers.
Nearby places we like: Oriental Impressions for skewers and spicy garlic noodles, Pacific BBQ for Mixed BBQ platter on rice, Cô Thư Quán for barramundi salad and bun with grilled chicken, Warkop for their Dabu Dabu sandwich (lunch only).
Small Patch carries the feeling of a wine shop that you wished you had down the road, with a great range from entry-level to high-end chardonnays to suit most occasions. Small Patch has a lovely personal selection of producers from the well-known to obscure.
Nearby places we like: iSpicy for the best pad khana moo grob (crispy pork belly with chinese broccoli) on rice in Melbourne, Gopi Ka Chatka for Indian snacks, Glenferrie Gourmet Meats for S-tier chicken nuggets, Samurai for a don.
Perhaps just an excuse to have a buttery chard with El Jannah, Surly’s has got that classic not-quite-pub bar layout with a beer garden a la Monty’s and Rook’s Return and a well-priced booze list and a speical beer selection.
Nearby places we like: El Jannah for a half chicken plate (this is the only correct order), Maharaja for an Indian feast, Takeaway Pizza for some of the best pizza in the North.
I believe this place is the OG of ‘BYO food’ joints, bringing in this feature long before any of the other places listed even existed (citation needed). Cosy space with a cute garden out the back, you could spend all day chatting shit, drinking from the vibrant wine list while munching down on all of NoBru (north of Brunswick Road) has to offer.
Nearby places we like: 400 Gradi for a Margherita, B.east for a burger, BBQ Lounge for a biryani, Teta Mona for a falafel plate, Eat Pierogi Make Love for pierogis.
Going to fancy restaurants for sweets only.
With cozzie livs, shouting a fancy dinner can be a bit too big-guy. A single bougie dessert to share, with a couple wines/disgestifs/espressos at a bougie venue however, is a manageable amount of big-guy.
They only do this as a part of their Friday and Saturday supper menu that starts after 10pm. Nothing feels more like being spoiled than having the theatre of fire in your dessert.
There’s a good chance that the waitperson will try to twist your arm and get you to order the sesame and honey ice cream to go with it. I mean, like yeah, the right answer is yes – while you’re there. If it’s quiet, the loungey seating area that faces the street through a giant window is a pretty place to sit.
Etta’s chilli oil parfait made the Instagram rounds when Lorcan first took the reins from Rosheen. Of course, he’s made his own chilli oil. Of course, it’s as good as the hype.
Once it was a chipotle and orange flan, another time it was a banana tiramisu, or a very simple coconut ice cream with mango and candied chilli and every time it’s been the best dessert I’ve ever had. I don’t care what it is, if Scott is making it, the sweets will be very good.
When something’s been on the menu since day dot, it’s usually for good reason. A dessert as boozy as a rum baba makes a difficult pairing, but the team knows what they’re doing when they suggest pairing it with apple brandy.
Instead of BYO booze, BYO food.