Little Humid Restaurant and Bar, reviewed by Trevor Pepys
Let’s get one thing clear from the start: for Trevor, this is a “special occasion” place, not your average Friday night roll-out – although this visit was on a Friday night, and we were rolling a bit due to becoming incredibly thirsty during the welcome return of the SandFlys at Harbour Wine Bar.
And when I say special occasion, I’m talking like the times when Trev gets the call from the wrong side of town that a no-hoper is set to win the seventh at Eagle Farm at 50 to one, and, of course, the nag romps home with Trev’s pay packet on its butt. That kind of special.
Mary and Michelle have been serving up something special in Noosa, first at Humid on Weyba Road and now at Little Humid on Gympie Terrace, for more than 16 years, always with impeccable service served with a little bit of attitude. Point of difference is what the girls strive for, and they always deliver.
Take the name itself. Who else would call a restaurant in a subtropical beach town renowned for its warm, ah, sweaty evenings “Humid”? Answer: no one. Google it. No one. That’s what I love about the girls. They act like they don’t give a rat’s, and yet they care so passionately about what they create and how they deliver it.
Which brings me to our most recent dinner. We were three, Trevor, the bride and our mate up from Sydney who was the special occasion, an old food critic who takes no prisoners and whose manic cackles of delight or roars of displeasure are feared by chefs the world over.
Suitably socially distanced, we ordered bloody marys ($15 and just what the doctor ordered) and a round of tempura battered Spanish olives stuffed with anchovy ($15) and sipped and slurped while surveying the menu, which manages to combine the old and the new. In such situations old foodie mate tends to just order the lot and let God sort it out, which Trevor is happy to do at Telephone Call From Istanbul but not here, not on a journo’s miserly salary (are you listening, Garry?).
Not that Little Humid is terribly pricey – in fact by Noosa’s high-end standards, it’s quite moderate. But Trevor, as you may have gathered, is mean but fair.
So we compromised and ordered two entrees and two mains to share, including two of Trev’s favourites and two new starters. If I’d had the pork belly at Humid before, I’d somehow forgotten the experience. Sticky fried pork belly, fresh fig, witlof, honey walnuts, goat’s feta and pear salad, caramelized date puree ($25), a sensational start. Three of us ripped it apart in nano-seconds, and but for Covid, Trevor would have ripped the biggest piece out of old Sydney mate’s teeth before it disappeared.
Fortunately, the slow braised rabbit, leek and macadamia nut pie, cauliflower cream, thyme and white wine jus ($26) was at hand, and this has been a Trev special since Humid began. A rabbit pie is a rare treat these days, but Trev can remember country stays on an uncle’s property when at a very young age he learnt the origin of the expression “letting the ferret have a run”, popping the frightened animals into a sack at the end of the hole and lugging them back for dear old aunty to make into the most delicious pie, with no qualms at all about Pookie, his pet white bunny in the cage back home. Michelle ain’t no old aunty, but she sure knows her way around a bunny pie.
Our mains of crispy skin duck confit leg, buttered sugarloaf cabbage, kipflers and melted onion leaves, creamed parsnip puree, orange and star anise glaze ($35) and lamb shank glazed in a roast beetroot and balsamic jus, spinach and feta kataifi pastry, broccolini, carrot and nut brown butter puree ($34) disappeared in a similarly inglorious display of gluttony, but by this time the effects of the second bottle of Logan Hannah rose ($45, and a good dop from Orange, NSW, not far from uncle’s farm as it happens) were becoming obvious, so host Mary had the mop and bucket at the ready for what went to ground.
Trevor is a sucker for a good shank, and there isn’t a better one in Noosa. And the duck was similarly succulent. Although only four dishes for three, this was a meaty feast of flavours, perfect for a Noosa winter night.
The verdict: Book well in advance, and if you’re on Jobkeeper, Trevor suggests going twice a week until the end of September. This is a special.
Little Humid, 235 Gympie Terrace, Noosaville, phone 5449 9755.
Open for dinner Wednesday to Sunday, lunch Friday to Sunday.
