Pub grub, history and lingerie at the Royal Mail
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By Trevor Pepys
Trevor Pepys reviews the Royal Mail Hotel
While the Pepys familial connection with the historic Royal Mail Hotel at Tewantin goes back to great-grand-dad Samuel (no, not that one, a later one) who, as a young man, would ride down from Gympie on the Cobb & Co with Charlie Crank at the whip, and help him tether the horses about where the Woolies car park is now.
Late in life old Sam and Trev’s great-grandma Gretel would hobble up the hill and take a window seat in the dining room every Friday night and watch the sun set over the river while they devoured Eliza Donovan’s Cooroy roasted rump or river-caught flathead and chips.
But then came the mysterious Tewantin fires of the ‘30s and ‘40s, and the Mail went up in smoke in March 1939, almost taking Lionel Donovans fleet of tourers and limos with it. The new owners the Bulimba Brewery Co, collected the insurance payout and built a modern and larger brick replacement in 1941, just a year after the town’s other pub, Martin’s, also mysteriously burnt down, making the Wanna a one-pub town, which it still is. Funny about that.
Fortunately, old Sam had passed away, choking on a wishbone in Eliza’s chicken mornay, shortly before this disaster, and he didn’t have to witness his beloved pub disappear as collateral damage in a brewery stocktake, and Gretel died of heartbreak soon after. But as a result of this tragic end to a beautiful relationship – them and their pub – generations of Pepys peeps have given the Mail a wide berth, although it is possible that Trev went there to see the great Tamam Shud in 1969. If you can remember the ‘60s, you weren’t really there, as they say.
But all that changed on the 78th anniversary of great-grandpa Sam’s mornay-munching misery last Friday night. Of course, the Royal Mail has undergone many makeovers since those halcyon days of white table cloths and proper salt and pepper grinders, and now the dining room is a “bistro”, entered from what Trev still likes to think of as the stables side, past numerous closed doors that lead to who knows what pleasures of the flesh or the palate.
The bistro is large and airy and benefits hugely from the historic photographs hung around its walls, and if you grab a window banquette, you can still watch the river sunset over the roof of the bottle shop. So Trev and the missus said a little prayer for old Sam and Gretel, slapped down their senior’s cards and hungrily surveyed the seniors menu. (And please note, Noosa restaurateurs, the Mail is setting a trend here. Check the demographics, count the walking frames, do likewise.)
While the senior’s offerings were not as wide-ranging as the main menu, there was plenty on it for Trev and the missus to invoke the memories of the dear departed, while being cheap enough to make pigs of ourselves. So, Trev ordered a bottle of Circa 1858 chardonnay ($25, and excellent value for a 162-year-old wine) and a salt and pepper calamari ($11) to share for starters. Of all the salt and pepper calamaris Trev has devoured over the years, he can truthfully say that this was the most recent. Tastefully presented on a white plate with fat chips and a side salad of droopy leaves and cherry tomatoes.
Next, Trev went for the chicken schnitzel ($14) while the missus chose the crispy fish and chips ($13). These too were tastefully presented on a white plate with fat chips and a side salad of droopy leaves and cherry tomatoes.
Full as googs and having suffered no wishbone incidents, we polished off the ancient wine and made to leave, the sun having set and other diners having drifted in to what had been our private parlour.
The verdict: If you go with low expectations you won’t be disappointed. This is perfectly adequate pub grub at a price everyone can afford, served with a smile by an energetic and helpful staff, and with Noosa’s living history on its walls. Plus, Trev hears they have lingerie waitresses and a meat raffle in the public bar on Friday nights!
Royal Mail Hotel, Poinciana Avenue, Tewantin, phone 54471644.
