The Hero was built in a no frills era, and they haven’t added any in the intervening 170 years. Timber floors, convict-hewn sandstone walls and lantern light create the shell in which Guinness is to be drunk and songs sung by the fireside.
Things can get a little rowdy if a bar crawl comes through, but it’s always got a strong crowd in attendance most days, matching James Squire brews to a rich lamb shank with gravy on a mammoth pile of mash, or making short work of the house burger that eschews the American style taking over the city’s eateries. This is an old fashioned works burger – taller than it is wide with a well-seasoned, well done beef patty with heaps of tinned beetroot, mayo, lettuce and tomato and a serve of the crunchy yellow chips you associate with road stop dinners on the side.
Time your visit for Friday nights and Sunday arvos when there are live bands so you can holla along to a Kenny Rodgers tune, or hatch a plan to get into the Hero’s cellars where they keep the tunnel to the Harbour that was once used for smuggling rum and drunken patrons to waiting clippers.
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