writer and photographer FIONA STOCKER

The wind is blowing a Hobartian hooly off the mountain, and we walk the promenade at Kingston Beach with our clothes flattened against our bodies. There’s no hope of eating outside. The lights of Robbie Brown’s beckon us. Inside is a generous space, all cushions and wicker lampshades, and a gold-rimmed bar twinkling with bottles.

The advantage of having grown up children is they can read the menu for themselves, and we are all catered for: the vegetarian, the burger lover, the would-be epicurean and the parmigiana aficionado. My teenage son is doing a statewide parmi survey. He has spied the “chicken schnitzel with melted cheese, Napoli, pickled veg salad and chips”, and the waitress helpfully confirms it is “parmi-style”.

My daughter, the vegetarian, will eat modestly – she’s having a garden salad with chips. She makes up for this with adventurous tastes in cocktails and orders a mai tai.

My husband likes to know what he’s getting so he orders the Robbie beef burger. I’m going with the lamb bowl, their “twist on a lamb souvlaki”. The word bowl promises something more elegant and fun than the usual souvlaki wrap. I’m all for deconstructed dishes if it means a version I can eat with a fork which re-explores a classic.

First things first, and the girls running the joint get going on our drinks. The room lights up with the sound of spirits being shaken. The mixologist lines up our order on the bar and pours the pink mai tai over a tumble of ice with theatrical relish.

I have opted for a Kate Hill sparkling rosé as I’ve heard good things but never sampled. It’s the colour of deep red petals and robust in its strawberry and brioche character. Throughout the meal it shows magnificent staying power, holding its own to the last fluted drop.

When the food arrives, the lamb bowl is just right: shredded lamb, crisp cos leaves, quinoa tabbouleh shot through with chopped herbs and seasoning, a smearing of beetroot hummus, sumac red onion and tart tzatziki , with a pyramid of pitta triangles. On these is a scattering of spiced pepita dukkha. The humble lettuce leaves are key in this dish, an edible scoop, the stem crunchy and juicy, the leaf firm and billowy. If these leaves were even microscopically wilted, the dish would fail, but they are garden fresh, so it’s a win. The lamb is perfectly tender and, wrapped alternately in fresh lettuce and the satisfying chew of warm grilled pitta, makes for a happy half hour.

The afficionado’s parmi is the perfect size and he vacuums it up, sampling a different salad leaf with each bite. When asked how it was, he shows a teenager’s effulgence: “Tastes like chicken, felt like chicken, smelt like chicken.”

Once finished, he opens negotiations about trying the drinks on the table, to no avail as he’s not quite legal age. The rest of us are, and we enjoy swapping sips in front of him.

The vegetarian says the mai tai is “kind of like a palette refresher with the chips”. I try it, and am newly convinced of the magic mix of rum, curacao and fresh lime, each component with a distinctive aromatic punch.

She tries my Kate Hill. “It’s stronger than most rosé but I quite liked it and the sparkling left a tingle on the lip,” she says, my eloquent child.

Not to be left out, my Other Half gives an appraisal of the Boag’s Premium. “It’s refreshingly light and goes with most meals,” he says, quoting the waitress. His burger was quite rare, he adds. “In a good way – it had a blush in the middle and was tender and delicious.”

Even the vegetarian’s chips and aioli are done with panache considering their humble potato and mayo origins, the chips perfectly golden with a saltiness that tingles on the tongue, the aioli unctuous and garlicky.

Van Morrison’s Days like This is on the soundtrack and we’d like to cocktail on, but if we risk getting dehydrated our tinnitus will play up. Such is advancing age. So we go for a walk along the seafront instead. Galahs wobble around the sidewalk picking at gumnuts, and the clouds scud across the D’Entrecasteaux pink with the sun’s last blush. The creep of the digital-age holiday-let has not reached all the Kingston Beach seafront homes and a good number of residents are rugged up in front of the television, the sea swelling outside and good food just footsteps away. It’s a good life, here in this seaside suburb, and made even better with Robbie Brown’s a hop and a skip away.■

ROBBIE BROWN’S

32 Osborne Esplanade, Kingston Beach

Ph: 03 6229 7965

robbiebrowns.com.au

Fiona Stocker is a writer based in the Tamar Valley. She has published the books A Place in the Stockyard (2016) and Apple Island Wife (2018). For more information, see fionastockerwriter.com.