Spotlight: Sydney raises the minibar

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This was published 5 years ago

Spotlight: Sydney raises the minibar

By Michael Harry
Updated

The first thing I do when I check into a new hotel room is check out the minibar. It's always worth a look, even if just to decide I can't possibly pay nightclub prices for a sparkling water. As a Melburnian who travels to Sydney about once a fortnight for work, I've stayed at just about every one of the hip boutique hotels which have been sprouting up all over town. Trust me: not all minibars are created equal.

Even now, when a tap on the UberEats app can summon snow eggs and slabs of beer, there's something indulgently rock'n'roll about raiding the minibar. A good one isn't prohibitively expensive and contains a few surprises. It has nice glassware and an easy-to-find bottle opener. And it is never hooked up to a system which puts any item you move on the tab.

QT Hotel Bondi minibar has both food and clothing in the minibar offerings.

QT Hotel Bondi minibar has both food and clothing in the minibar offerings.Credit: HAND OUT

Paramount House Hotel in Surry Hills has by far the best offering I've seen this year. The glorious Mack Daddy suite is more like a New York loft with its blush-pink linen, Aesop soaps and sun-dappled private terrace. A drawer-style fridge is concealed under the bronze-patina sideboard and holds a treasure chest of goods you never knew you needed: bottles of good local wine, sliced charcuterie from LP's Quality Meats, weird beer from Greece, soft cheeses from Formaggi Ocello. I glance at the price list and tell myself I deserve a $7 packet of artisanal kettle chips and crunch through them while reclining in the wooden Japanese bathtub. Bliss.

At the Albion Street Guest House down the road, there are no minibars in the rooms, but rather an "honesty bar" in the lobby. Its shelves recall a retro apothecary, glinting with individual bottles of Bombay Sapphire and Chivas Regal. There are quirky snacks, too, and little paper forms on which to write down whatever you've had, although the public nature of it all makes me self-conscious. Minibars offer the impulse buys of the hotel world; and having to ferry the stuff back to my room provides me with too much time to change my mind.

It's a different story at the Ovolo, which has chic premises in converted warehouses in Pyrmont and Woolloomooloo. Here, the minibar is included in the room rate and it's a race to put it all away in time. There are bottles of still and sparkling water, Coke, craft beers, tiny bottles of wine, and a snack pack filled with nuts and popcorn and, thrillingly, a Curly Wurly bar, which you can work through without any evidence appearing on the bill. It's free, sort of, and like junk food consumed on a road trip or at the airport, the calories don't count.

Often the minibar acts like a mission statement, telling you more about a hotel than the photos on the website. At the achingly cool QT Bondi, for example, you'll find a bow tie, coconut water, Wild Kombucha drinks, protein balls, playing cards, clean undies, an iPhone pouch, Pick-Up Sticks and a children's book. At the super-sleek Sofitel in Darling Harbour, there's a half-bottle of champagne that costs more than you would pay for a full bottle in a Paris brasserie.

The last thing I do in a hotel room is to scrutinise the bill. "Anything from the minibar, sir?" the receptionist will ask when it's time to leave, and I'll lower my voice so the other travellers don't hear me.

"Just a Four Pines beer," I'll whisper, "And some peanut M&Ms … and a bottle of unstructured natural riesling from the Adelaide Hills. Just put it all on that card I gave you, and let's never speak of this again."

To read more from Good Weekend magazine, visit our page at The Sydney Morning Herald or The Age.

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