Queen’s Wharf. If you think of this blockbuster precinct’s grand reveal as the defining food story of 2024, you’re probably right.

But it’s also been one of the defining food stories of the past eight years and, as we head into 2025, more than ever it’s come to reflect the Brisbane hospitality scene’s strengths, its weaknesses – and its ongoing, never-ending anxieties.

About the time I started covering food full-time in this city in 2016, the going logic among restaurateurs and bar owners was that you had to get out of the CBD because Queen’s Wharf was coming. Then, in the ensuing years, Brisbane became much more of a tourist destination and the script flipped entirely: you now had to get into the CBD because Queen’s Wharf was coming, and bringing with it 1.4 million additional visitors (Star Entertainment Group’s own figure) a year.

How much the $3.6 billion precinct will add to the local economy is perhaps up in the air after a bunch of setbacks, including the loss of anchor retail tenant DFS, and Star needing to secure a $200 million debt facility in September.

Either way, Queen’s Wharf is open, as are a pile of new restaurants. Sokyo Brisbane, Black Hide, Aloria, Azteca, Luc Lac, Cucina Regina, Dark Shepherd and Pompette among them. They arrived one after the other in a flurry of hits from August onwards. Boom! Boom! Boom!

Yet, the discussion they created in the wider industry evolved again. Outside operators weren’t worried about losing their punters to these places long-term – “they’ll go check them out, then they’ll come back,” one said to me – but their staff. The skills shortage in the hospitality industry continues, and competition for chefs, in particular, is fierce. When an award-winning Sydney-based restaurant group (which declined to go on record) known for its favourable benefits is having trouble hanging onto Brisbane workers, you know things are rough.

Queen’s Wharf also sparked discussions about the state of CBD dining and drinking in general, and how it relates to its broader nighttime economy. We had some cracking openings in the city, from the flash Anna Spiro-designed Naldham House Brasserie and Club Felix, and J.AR Office-designed Central, to the charmingly lo-fi rumpus-room vibes of wine-bar-in-a-garage Milquetoast. And all are good enough to attract a crowd on their own.

But there are fewer cinemas and the last live-performance theatre moved out long ago, as did the last nightclub. Late-night shopping is confined to Fridays, and we don’t have a buzzy Chinatown on the edge of the city like Sydney, or indeed running through its guts, like Melbourne (even if there’s a cracking collection of casual Korean, Thai, Japanese and Malaysian restaurants along Elizabeth and Charlotte streets, and the laneways in between. Haven’t experienced Doodee Boran’s Thai street food? Please do).

Perhaps the real question over Queen’s Wharf is one of needs. Everything this masthead has covered at the precinct is worth at least your passing consideration, and add to the city’s food scene.

But medium-sized new-build restaurants is something Brisbane learnt to do well years ago, in part due to the city’s lack of heritage spaces (I remember being on a Zoom call with a Melbourne-based designer and restaurateur in 2021, and they agreed the Queensland capital is a leader in creating compelling dining experiences in new precincts). What we sometimes lack are those smaller inner-suburban owner-operator restaurants that help lend a food city its fidelity and sense of narrative.

Thankfully, there were a bunch of those in 2024 too.

You can now eat local produce-driven small plates in West End at Gum Bistro and August, which boast young-gun owners and are set inside an old timber corner store and former church respectively. Or you can go large on a Michelin-inspired Italian degustation at Attimi, which opened in September in the heritage-listed Paddington premises once occupied by Montrachet. Or you can eat Leaham Claydon and Jianne Jeoung’s Asian-inflected comfort food at Snug, located in a former trophy shop in Coorparoo. Or sip on clever cocktails at Barry Parade Public House, another beautifully restored heritage spot. It’s these kinds of venues we’d like to see more of.

The other themes of 2024? Lots of fire and lots of French: the former best represented by Ach in Hamilton and then Emme, which took over the old Spoon Deli space on James Street; the latter by the Votan brothers’ Petite, Michael Tassis’ Pompette and chef Clem Chauvin’s revival of Montrachet on King Street.

So, what are the challenges facing the local industry as we head into 2025, other than a hangover from the previous 12 months?

As always with hospitality venues, it’s a question of rising costs squeezing their margins. It’s not just wages – a direct result of that competition for staff – but also food and rent.

Menu pricing has remained remarkably stable given the challenges, with operators choosing instead to find further efficiencies in their venues. But more than one seasoned diner has mentioned to me the price creep on wine lists, in particular.

“I’d hate to not own my own space right now,” said one restaurateur who, through careful planning over a number of years, has managed to do just that in Fortitude Valley. “That gives us a big advantage in keeping our costs down and prices consistent.”

But despite the frequently reported doom and gloom, the sky still refuses to fall in on the local scene. And the closer we get to the Olympics, you’d imagine the buzzier things will get (all confidence-sapping indecision over venues and infrastructure aside, of course).

The next 12 months will be fascinating. See you out and about.