Moving to Canberra: The outsiders guide to the Canberra food scene
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Before I landed in the ACT, my definition of a gourmet lunch was a cold £3.50 supermarket meal deal.
I arrived from the UK as a sceptic, convinced that the ‘beige and brown’ predictable high-street chains of my hometown were the peak of modern dining, and that nothing could ever touch the home-cooked gold of my Nonna’s kitchen.
But within weeks of arriving, this foodie powerhouse staged a mandatory intervention. My partner had always insisted that Australians ‘know how to do good food,’ but I wasn’t prepared for a city where excellence isn’t a luxury, it’s the daily baseline. My introduction to Canberra’s ‘must-visit’ institutions initiated a new way of living (and eating).
Three Mills Bakery in Fyshwick was my first epiphany. In my hometown, a great bakery is a rare, modest village staple. Here, it is a full-blown theatrical experience. Standing there, you can watch the chefs at work behind the glass, meticulously crafting the flakiest croissants and creamiest fillings. This excellence is baseline in Canberra. If Three Mills was the epiphany, Sonoma was the confirmation. I became so hooked on their cinnamon scrolls that I began structuring my entire afternoon around fitting one in. Then there’s Margot Bar, elegantly perched at the water’s edge for a mid-walk ‘pitstop’ that inevitably turns into a long, lakeside afternoon spent drinking espresso.
But the obsession doesn’t end with a morning pastry. As the clock strikes noon, the stakes in this foodie city get even higher. My lunchtime compass inevitably points toward sushi, and this is where the non-local culture shock really kicks in: the glory of the uncut sushi roll. Back home, sushi is a pricey sit-down affair or a sad supermarket tray. Here, it is affordable and seemingly on every corner – with honourable mentions to Mee’s Sushi and Sushi Ten in Yarralumla.
If you want to see this obsession elevated to an art form, Raku on Bunda Street is the city’s crown jewel. It represents the pinnacle of the craft. I recently opted for the express lunch set menu of fresh sashimi, tempura vegetables, and Scotch fillet steak. Just around the corner, you land in the vibrant heart of Akiba, which truly does justice to the city’s rich Asian influences. Back in the UK, my family’s go-to for an Asian-inspired night out was Wagamama. While reliable, it offered a very predictable version of modern dining in comparison to Canberra’s beloved institutions.
To truly reflect the time I’ve spent uncovering the layers of this foodie powerhouse, my ultimate loyalty belongs to the suburban soul of Dickson Dumpling House. Watching the handmade, perfectly pleated dumplings and steaming bowls of Mongolian beef noodles fly across the room made me realise that the most authentic heartbeats are found in these no-frills hubs, far removed from the high-street chains of my past.
However, the true test of my integration into the ACT wasn’t solely my love for dumplings. It was being forced to experience the great divide between Brodburger and Grease Monkey. Coming from the UK, I was no stranger to a thriving burger scene, but I wasn’t prepared for the rivalry surrounding Brodburger in Kingston and Grease Monkey in Braddon.
From my fresh perspective, these aren’t just restaurants. They are anchors for your social life. Brod in Kingston is the undisputed OG, carrying the warm nostalgia of my first few weeks down under – a Canberra institution I would return to in a heartbeat. It offers a masterclass in the pillowy bap, housing juicy, flame-grilled patties and a dizzying choice of blue, brie, or Swiss cheese.
But then there’s the electric, high-vibe energy of Grease Monkey in Braddon. I’ve quickly realised that Greasy’s is far more than just a place to grab a burger. It is a social institution that is always popping off. You might head to Lonsdale Street with the innocent intention of just having a beer and inevitably find yourself reaching for a menu and ordering a ‘Dirty Bird’ burger. For someone used to the more rigid divide between a ‘drinking pub’ and a restaurant back in the UK, witnessing a place that is consistently this high-energy is a magnetic reminder of how Canberrans do dinner.
Yet, for the excitement of discovering these new social hubs, there is one dish that still tethers me to my roots. This article wouldn’t be complete without honouring the best Sunday roast I’ve found so far at The Duxton in O’Connor. For a UK expat, putting our most sacred culinary tradition to the test felt like the final, definitive Canberra initiation. The Duxton passed with flying colours, a reminder that even as I embrace everything this city has to offer, some things travel with you.
As it turns out, the best way to truly find your feet in the bush capital is to simply follow your appetite. Canberra is a city where the ‘extraordinary’ is treated as standard. A bakery is a theatrical experience. An excellent cafe is the norm. Sushi is on every corner and burgers inspire genuine loyalty.
My Nonna still holds the crown for home cooking, but Canberra has officially retired my beige expectations for everything else.
Feature image: Brodburger. Credit: Ash St George.
