Trevor Pepys reviews the Country Life Hotel, Kin Kin
“I’m bored,” said the missus. “All we ever do is go to the beach or bar crawl the length of Gympie Terrace until the sun sets and you can go in and destroy the reputation of some innocent restaurant, just for the sport of it. Why can’t you be more like that bandana bloke in the SandFlys? He’s always taking his missus on adventures in the country. I know, I’ve seen it on Facebook.”
She meant it, and there was a veiled threat of cutting off conjugal rights, such as making the bed and doing the washing. And, to be honest, our Covid routine had become a little tedious. It was time to revisit the far parts of the realm, to take what the tourism boosters call a Noosa Country Drive.
Back in a previous century, before life got so serious, Trev used to love driving the circle of suds, usually starting with a Eumundi Lager with old mate Bruce Wall at the Imperial Hotel, then motoring on for a schooner or two on the veranda at the Pomona pub, then just the one sneaky pint at the Country Life in Kin Kin before driving on to the Apollonian for one of Bob Abbot’s Sunday roast specials. If you’d kept yourself nice, you might even manage one for the frog and toad at the Royal Mail to finish the afternoon.
This, of course, is now out of the question in our nanny state, so we opted for an abbreviated version of the circle of suds, replacing constant bevies with quick hits of culture, starting with a short visit to the cute Railway Station Gallery at Pomona, completely empty save for a vollie or two on a steamy Sunday. Looking across the street to the pub, Trev was tempted to trade the Lake Cootharaba water colours for a quick game of darts and a swill, but the dude abided.
Next stop was the good old Country Life, where Trev could combine culture with a bevie and a graze, but first he had to placate the wiry old, inked-up bloke behind the bar, who was irate with the missus for taking phone snaps of the historic wall hangings to post on social media and one-up Bandana Bloke. “The last time I let a bloke take pictures inside the bar, they ended up in the paper and got another bloke who wasn’t supposed to be in here in big trouble,” he ranted.
“Don’t worry,” Trev assured him, “I’ll rip the film out of the back of the phone and destroy it while we’re having a drink and surveying the menu. Now, may I look at your wine list?”
Of course, this being an authentic country pub (built 1914) there was neither a wine list nor a menu, but Ink Man softened towards us and within minutes we were seated at an airy courtyard table with a Eumundi lager for Trev ($6.70) and a quaffable house chardy ($$7) for the missus, with shared dishes a crumbed red emperor with chips and salad ($27) and crumbed steak and chips with mushroom gravy ($15) on the way.
Well, sort of on the way. Given the post-holiday empty table count, the food should have come a lot quicker, but fortunately we were in the mood to dally, listening to the mellow sounds of Joel Mak, the excellent Rainbow Beach troubadour whom we’ve known since he was in nappies. In between sets Joel dropped by for a beer and a natter, the heavens opened for all of four minutes, the sun came out again, steam rose off the concrete and before you could say “Pepys for President”, our lunch arrived.
First the good news. You can’t go wrong with a good reefie, and the red emperor certainly passed muster, although it could have been a little less cooked under its heavy shell of breadcrumbs. But it was a big plateful and quite acceptable pub grub, which was just as well, because the crumbed steak (seems like they crumb just about everything at the Country Life) was the bad news.
The missus gave up on it and even Trev struggled a bit. Underneath the crumbed disguise, its texture looked like it had been 3D-printed rather than ripped off the side of a cow. On the other hand, the mushroom gravy was delicious. The verdict: Look, we went for a drive in the country, not a gourmet experience, and the Country Life gave us a great afternoon of fun, music, and frivolity. Not to mention a piece of fish that was almost excellent.
Country Life Hotel, 69 Main Street, Kin Kin. Phone 5485 4103.
