Proof is in the Glass for Copperhead
John Caruso discovers that what’s poured into your glass can change what you expect from beer altogether.
Late afternoon at Copperhead Restaurant Brewery, the light changes and the bar fills with a quiet energy as customers settle in, beers in hand, conversation unfolding the way it does when there’s no rush and the beer’s worth drinking.
Brewer Simon Grasby has spent 11 years chasing the fundamentals of a good brew. Not the noise or the hype that came with the craft beer boom, but quality ingredients, precision brewing, and a tasting room that feels less like a bar and more like, well, a church!
“I want to say modern day church,” Simon says, pausing over the comparison before committing to it. “Without taking anything away from religion, people still want human connection, a community.”
He’s not wrong. Copperhead isn’t just a space where beer is poured. It’s where people gather. Where mates catch up and strangers bond over a shared appreciation for a well-crafted brew. It’s the kind of place where the beer is excellent, but the company and food makes it transcendent.
“You could be having a mediocre beer with the best company and that beer becomes THE best beer,” Simon says. “It doesn’t get better than that.”
At Copperhead, the food is divine but the beer also stands on its own merits. Fourteen taps, each one representing a different brew – some traditional, some experimental, all held to the same exacting standard. There’s the Hefeweizen, a classic German-style wheat beer brewed with traditional W-68 yeast, bringing notes of banana, clove and subtle spice. Unfiltered, creamy, endlessly drinkable.
After a decade of trying to sell German beers in Australia, this one’s finally found its audience.
“In the last 10 years of professionally brewing, it’s been really hard to sell German beers,” Simon says. “I don’t know whether it’s the spelling because people don’t want to look like an idiot when they’re ordering or maybe it’s a lack of people understanding what it is. Regardless, it was one of our highest selling, most praised beers over summer.”
The same holds for the London Ale. After languishing in the shadow of pale ales and lagers, people are finally getting it. Minds are opening. Palates are expanding. Education takes time.
Simon’s been around the longest as a brewer on the Coast. He started the Sunshine Coast Home Brew Club back in 2014 when getting into the industry seemed impossible. These days, he’s the one setting the standard, working with quality suppliers like Gladfield Malts, a family-run malting company out of Canterbury, New Zealand. They share the same values, quality, integrity and respect for the craft.
Everything at Copperhead is in-house. No trucks. No cold storage somewhere off-site. No compromises. Simon controls every step, from the ingredients to the pour, and it shows.
“The proof is in the glass. No matter what happens, it’s always going to be where it has to shine,” Simon says.
That’s the philosophy. It doesn’t matter if you’re having a bad day, what trends surging; when you step up to that brew stand, you give it everything. It takes one to three weeks to get into the glass, and when it does, it needs to be as close to perfect as humanly possible.
“We won’t put on anything that we don’t green light at the brewery,” Simon shares. “Everything needs to be at a certain quality and we need to make sure that we’re maintaining that standard.”
The beer menu generally rotates on a three-month cycle, with one or two taps kept fresh and interesting with shorter-run experiments. Simon respects tradition, but craft is also about expression and stepping outside the box.
There’s room for both. A perfectly executed lager alongside something wild, something unexpected. Broccoli beer? Why not. If it’s done right, anything’s possible.
“Nothing’s ever off the table when it comes to experimenting,” Simon says. “I think that’s good. I think that’s one of the valued things in the craft area.”
The rockstar era of craft beer seems to have slowed and has gone through trend-chasing and over-expansion. What’s left are the breweries with good tasting rooms, good beer, and a genuine connection to their community.
Copperhead delivers. You don’t have to sit down for a meal, though the food is excellent. You can sit at the bar, order a beer, talk to Jimmy about cocktails if that’s your thing; it’s inviting, homely.
Simon keeps it tight on wholesale, just a couple of venues that align with Copperhead’s values. Mapleton Public House is one of his favourites and he delivers the kegs himself, chats with everyone, takes in the view. There’s also Sasquatch Bar & Eatery in Chermside, run by an old colleague from his days at Glasshouse Brewery.
Small bars. Community-focused. The kind of places where people come to drink good beer and talk to good people.
“Tasting rooms are modern day churches or extensions of people’s lounge rooms,” Simon says. “It’s not about going to the pub and getting pissed. It’s about coming together, sharing ideas and catching up.”
Beer’s been around for a long time. Civilizations have been built on it. And while trends come and go, the fundamentals don’t change: quality, community, connection. At Copperhead Restaurant Brewery, those fundamentals are alive and well. The proof, as Simon says, is in the glass.
