ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
Local hospitality veteran and self-described “pub dining visionary” Gavin McAllister, owner of the newly revamped Copperplate Dining Hall in Betoota’s rapidly gentrifying French Quarter, has taken aim at the federal government’s recent crackdown on migration and international student visas.
McAllister claims the move is a “death knell” for Australia’s hospitality industry and a “kick in the guts” to people like him who “rely on a constant flow of hardworking brown folks to keep the dream alive.”
Speaking from a tastefully restored 1890s bar room, complete with exposed brick walls, Edison bulbs, McAllister explained how essential foreign workers are to keeping his “modern Australian dining” establishment afloat.
“Aussie kids just don’t want to work anymore,” he said, pausing to adjust his RM Williams belt.
“You advertise for a kitchen hand or a dishwasher, and all you get are Gen Zs asking if they can be the head chef because they made a risotto once on TikTok. Meanwhile, you bring in someone from Manila or Mumbai, and they’ll work harder than anyone because they’re grateful to be here.”
McAllister, a former rugby second-rower who now considers himself a “custodian of Australian cuisine,” said Copperplate is already struggling to keep up with demand since reopening as the French Quarter’s hottest new venue. The menu, featuring dishes like wattleseed-crusted lamb loin and kangaroo tartare with lemon myrtle foam, has been described by locals as “authentic” despite the restaurant’s reliance on migrants to execute the vision.
“Half my team are on visas, and without them, this place doesn’t function,” McAllister said. “I’m not just talking about washing dishes, I’ve got foreign students running the pastry section, crafting lemon aspen pavlovas and black sesame soufflés. You think you’re going to find a local uni kid with that level of work ethic and precision? Forget it.”
McAllister is particularly enraged by political rhetoric blaming migration for the housing crisis, calling it “classic scapegoating.”
“It’s not the migrants taking all the housing, it’s the bloody developers buying up blocks of flats around here. Mostly Chinese,” he said, ignoring the fact that his own restaurant occupies what was once affordable share housing.
When asked whether his reliance on migrant workers might reflect a broader issue with wage standards in the industry, McAllister bristled.
“That’s rubbish. I pay above award rates, well, sort of. I mean, if you average it out across 60 hours a week, they’re doing just fine. And it’s not like I’m ripping anyone off. These people are happy to work! They don’t complain, they don’t take sickies for hangovers, and they don’t have this sense of entitlement you get with the locals.”
The veteran publican insists his business is about more than profit, it’s about preserving Australia’s culinary identity in a world of change.
“This isn’t just a pub anymore, chock full of old drunks. Piss all over the bathroom walls,” McAllister declared. “It’s an experience. It’s where locals come to enjoy a meal that represents the best of this country, native ingredients, paddock-to-plate philosophy, and grey area wage theft.”
Meanwhile, in the kitchen of Copperplate, a 23-year-old Sri Lankan international student on a student visa delicately piped Davidson plum mousse onto a plate, silently dreaming of the day they could afford to bring their parents to Australia to visit.
McAllister shrugged off criticism that his position reduces people to economic utilities.
“If I can’t get workers, the dream dies. And without places like this, Betoota becomes just another town with a pub that serves schnitzel and chips. Is that what people want? I didn’t think so.”
More to come.
