If you know, you know. And if you don’t? Well, let me gently pull back the curtain on Death & Co Brisbane, possibly Brisbane’s best kept secret (but don’t worry, I’m not gatekeeping).
Tucked beneath the grand old bones of The Regatta Hotel, the entrance is blink-and-you’ll-miss-it subtle. There’s a tiny sign above the door that simply reads Death & Co. No neon. No fanfare. Just a quiet hint that you’re about to step somewhere interesting.
You head down a set of stairs and land in a small parlour space. And then — the curtain.
Pull it back and everything shifts. Step through and it’s all speakeasy energy from there. Properly dark — like, give-your-eyes-a-minute dark. Candles flicker on every table, the bar glows from behind with rows of jewel-toned bottles, and the rest of the room settles into shadowy corners and whispered conversations.
You can get a little lamp for your table… but you have to ask. Which somehow makes it better. Like you’ve unlocked a level.
It might just be Brisbane’s sexiest bar.
The cocktails: trust the process
Death & Co isn’t just any bar import. It’s the New York institution that quietly reshaped modern cocktail culture before expanding across the US and now landing here as its second Australian home. The drinks list is extensive without being overwhelming, balancing classics with inventive signatures and a nod to local flavour. You’ll spot heroes like the Telegraph with its eucalyptus-kissed gin moment, and the Buko Gimlet channelling coconut and pandan. There’s range. There’s theatre. There’s serious technique.
But we skipped decision fatigue and went straight for a thing they like to call Dealer’s Choice.
This is where you tell the bartender what you usually gravitate towards, the mood you’re in, maybe a flavour you’re flirting with, and then… you let go. A short conversation, a knowing nod, and your fate is sealed.
Reader, he nailed it.
I ended up with a fruity, zesty gin situation topped with a silky egg white foam that felt equal parts fresh and indulgent. It had that perfect citrus lift that makes you immediately go back for another sip. My friend’s drink arrived in a coupe, glowing red and looking unapologetically dramatic. I couldn’t even tell you what was in it. I just know it was sexy as hell.
The food: not just snacks, elevated bar food
This isn’t “grab a handful of nuts and call it dinner” territory. The bar food is properly elevated, designed to keep pace with the drinks.
We started with the house pickles. I was expecting cucumbers. Instead, a vibrant medley of vegetables arrived, each one sharp, bright and beautifully balanced. The kind of plate that resets your palate between sips and somehow disappears faster than you expect.
The stracciatella was a standout. Creamy cheese pooled under a fresh garden pea pesto, layered with salty jamon and a hit of pea pesto, all scooped up with sourdough. It’s simple on paper but the flavours are dialled in. Sweet peas, rich dairy, savoury ham — it just works.
Fingerling potatoes followed, tossed in a house spice mix and served with ketchup. Think crispy edges, fluffy centres, and the kind of seasoning that keeps you reaching back in for “just one more”.
The lamb burger deserves its own moment. A thick lamb patty layered with crisp baby cucumber, sharp red onion and a spiced tzatziki that cuts through everything with cooling herbs. It’s fresh, full-flavoured and genuinely high quality — not just good for a bar, just good.
Then came the buttermilk fried chicken skewers. Only two skewers, yes, but they’re generous. The batter shatters when you bite into it, giving way to tender chicken glazed with fermented chilli for heat and tang, finished with sesame and furikake. Messy in the best way.
We should have stopped there. We did not. It was dessert time.
The Basque baked cheesecake was my pick: burnished top, soft centre, draped in miso salted caramel with marmalade and lightly charred orange. There’s a subtle smokiness running through it, balanced by that sweet-salty caramel. Every bite layered and lush without tipping into too much.
Our bartender, however, insisted we also try Uncle Wes’ Drunken Cookies. And honestly? Thank god.
Warm cookies studded with milk and dark chocolate, laced with banana liqueur, sprinkled with sea salt and served with a glass of ice-cold milk. It might be the most wholesome, nostalgic thing I’ve experienced in a bar setting. Sitting there in the low light, dunking a warm cookie into cold milk, I felt absurdly happy. Like I’d won adulthood.
I texted five people before we’d even left telling them we had to come back.
That’s the thing about Death & Co Brisbane. It feels hidden, a little secretive, deliciously intimate. But once you’re in, it doesn’t feel exclusive. It feels like you’ve stumbled into somewhere special — a basement where time slows down, the music hums, and your next favourite cocktail is already being shaken.
Just follow the tiny sign and peek behind the curtain.
Death & Co, 543 Coronation Drive, Toowong. p. (07) 3543 9413
In her spare time, she likes long walks down the makeup aisle and performing in Brisbane theatre. You can follow her adventures on Instagram and TikTok @thebeautypalate.
