My suburb is a sleepy village, but it’s secretly one of the best places to eat in Brisbane

1 month ago 18

Opinion

January 19, 2026 — 6.01am

Life in the ’burbs is a series that highlights the good, bad and beautiful of Brisbane suburbs. Writers from around the city are penning love letters (mostly) to their suburbs every week.

Fun fact about Manly State School: it has the oldest fife band in Queensland, dating back to 1936. What is a fife, you may ask? It’s a simple wind instrument – what they had before mass-produced recorders.

You pass the school on emerging from Manly train station, and I love the thought of village traditions maintained. Another village tradition I adore is the Manly Creative Markets. When I first moved here in 2001, I filled my garden with $2 plants from Alan the Plant Man. He is still there selling painted pebbles every Sunday.

I’m hesitant to let the rest of Brisbane know about our piece of paradise. After all, what makes Manly so good is the way it flies under the radar, has yet to be lauded by Insta folk, and still ambles along at a seaside pace.

Inconveniently located on the way to nowhere, Manly is Brisbane’s easternmost suburb, a seaside nirvana hugging Moreton Bay.

Yes, it’s named after Manly in Sydney, but free of the surfing and the ostentation. Walking down the hill on Cambridge Parade with its wooden shopfronts and footpath awnings, the war memorial soldier and a tiny RSL hall, I can still imagine the Manly of 100 years ago: the dirt road, horse-drawn carts and well-dressed shoppers enjoying the shade.

These days the shops are occupied by hairdressers, homewares shops, boutiques and beauty salons. The only supermarket is the IGA housed in a tiled arcade with the post office, butcher, bakery, bottle-o, a bookshop and a fine Japanese hole-in-the-wall eatery. It’s a village.

Despite that coastal hamlet feel, Manly has, improbably, the largest marina in the southern hemisphere, berthing about 2000 boats, a fraction of which actually seem to go out to enjoy the wonders of Moreton Bay.

The rest? They provide the scenic backdrop for restaurants and bars. Manly is, secretly, one of the best places to eat in Brisbane, and seaside dining opportunities abound: from the coastal chic vibes of Manly Boathouse to the superbly refurbished Manly Harbour Boat Club to the quaint and quiet Wynnum Yacht Club.

There’s also the long-established Royal Queensland Yacht Club, simply known as RQ, which is where I married my Manly-born husband while sailing dinghies were derigged in the background.

Locals enjoying the afternoon down by the marina in Manly.

Dusk is my favourite time of day: the shadows are long, which is how the area got its Indigenous name, Narlung. The best spot to view it is the point near Manly Boathouse, also the entrance to the harbour. We’ll grab fish and chips, maybe some oysters, and sit in the back of our campervan watching the boats come back in.

If looking at the water isn’t enough, you can also dine on the water at Pier 88, a restaurant built into the William Gunn Jetty. The jetty has come a long way upmarket from 20 years ago, when my toddler would lose things to the sea below the gappy floor.

Lesser known is the delightfully quiet Captain’s Parrot Cafe at Wynnum Manly Yacht Club, nestled between the marina and the club boat ramp. The coffee is good, and the blue wrens bopping round the tables are a joy.

But for me, the urgent question is: who does the best oysters? This is controversial, again because there are options. The most obvious is Shucks, a dedicated oyster bar matching oysters with wines. Just around the corner on Cambridge Parade is Manly Fish Co. serving up $2 oysters with any drink.

Further up the hill and up some stairs is Manly Deck, which often does surprise oyster or prawn sessions. But give it a miss if you don’t appreciate good live music, because it’s on six nights a week, and we’re talking full bands with people up and dancing. I love having a bit of a jive with the locals because none of us could give a hoot what we look like while letting our hair down.

This is the glory of a village on the outskirts. The Celtic Corner, directly below, is where I get my Irish fix. Guinness and Kilkenny are on tap. Sometimes, talented locals arrive quietly, sit round a table and play traditional tunes, just like in Dublin.

One restaurant that stands alone is The Arsonist, with its wood-fired kitchen. I don’t think I have ever spent that much on a meal but have no regrets, because it was an outstanding experience of flavours, textures and aromas, and it was our wedding anniversary. Go if you can.

Despite the inevitable loss of my beautiful greyhound Rosie recently, I still think my favourite spot in Manly is the off-leash dog beach at the end of Davenport Drive beside a fenced-off bird reserve. It’s an isolated beach shared with windsurfers galore and even a dolphin or two.

As I look out to the islands of Quandamooka country, smell the salty air and hear the waves lapping at my feet, I realise this is the best part of living here. Carry me out in a box when the time comes.