Ten years ago, it would have been hard to believe a tiny brewery from Abbotsford would go on to open some of the most ambitious venues in Australia. But here we are, in the year of Moon Dog Wild West, the indie brewer’s blockbuster ode to Hollywood interpretations of the American frontier, where you can ride a bucking mechanical bull, throw back cowboy shots from tiny boot-shaped glasses, and chow down on sizzling fajitas at the Tex-Mex cantina.

Moon Dog Wild West, in the famous Frank Cozzo showroom in Footscray, is a three-storey stroke of marketing genius that taps into Australia’s obsession with American culture, while paying homage to a cherished and iconic building. But the real genius is this: you don’t need to love Moon Dog or its beer to love Wild West. Ditto for the brand’s Preston mega-venue, Moon Dog World, with its pina colada slushies, considered mocktails and no shortage of punters threatening to go for a dip in the lagoon. They are cultural hubs offering a big day out for a broad spectrum of punters, with or without the brew.

It’s important to say that – unlike the brand’s Abbotsford OG – neither sequel is involved in the production of Moon Dog’s beer. But they do represent a monumental shift in the way beer brands think about the hospitality experiences they offer. And frankly, it’s about time.

Breweries now contend with pubs as a family-friendly option for socialising, offering a well-rounded hospitality experience with plenty of space to park the pram. Leading Aussie design firms are getting the call-up. And the food menus feel reflective of the diverse neighbourhoods these venues are a part of.

In Sydney, a prime example of this is The Bob Hawke Beer & Leisure Centre. The HQ for Hawke’s Brewing sits on a quiet industrial backstreet in Marrickville, with minimal foot traffic on weekdays and a daunting amount of hospitality space to fill. And yet it’s become a major highlight on the inner-west ale trail, mainly for its restaurant, Lucky Prawn.

“We were stressing a bit when we’d walk out at night and see how few people there were around. We wondered – are people going to come?” says Nathan Lennon, who co-founded Hawke’s Brewing with David Gibson and former prime minister Bob Hawke before his death in 2019. “When we started thinking about the food, we realised it would be the linchpin to the success of the entire operation.”

Serving hits from the canon of “plastic chair, country-town Chinese restaurants attached to bowling clubs”, Lucky Prawn is aimed at group dining, with an average booking time of two hours. And for a lot of punters – including Lennon’s own mates – the restaurant is the venue. “We had to wrestle with our own ego … but we’ve also realised we’re a brand that can hold more than just beer, even though beer is still the most important part of what we do.”

While it’s hard to deny the appeal of a succulent Chinese meal, a big part of the venue’s success comes down to its design: an RSL-core fever dream complete with a cosy front bar and a pool room styled after the late prime minister’s own. It’s a radical departure from the industrial look of many Aussie taprooms.

“As a visitor, I had felt intimidated by those spaces … partly because some of them felt very much designed for men,” says Janie (who requested their surname not be published), director of Sonic Yoni, the hospitality group behind Adelaide’s Yellow Matter brewery “considered from a female perspective”.

“My vision for the venue component of the brewery ultimately was to reimagine what a brewery could look and feel like outside of the norm. I wanted it to present as a cosy bar – a place that isn’t intimidating for anyone to visit.”

Studio-Gram and Build Inc transformed the old West Torrens Council Chambers into an elegant, space with curves, arches and pastel hues. A kitchen serves veg-forward pizzas and snacks aimed at an under-serviced market. And the address is also the home of the group’s inner-west cafe Karma and Crow, which moved to the site earlier this year.

“The brewery component, although obviously a very important component, feels ancillary to the venue itself,” Janie tells Broadsheet. “Which isn’t to say that we don’t love when serious beer drinkers come in. We do. We just wanted to offer a little more for people who, for example, aren’t beer lovers but maybe their partner or friends are.”

Putting a premium on venue experience is a relatively new thing in beer – but it’s something wineries have been doing forever. Like brewery bars, cellar doors are extensions of production sites, where you can try a bunch of different things and learn about what you’re drinking. But unlike a brewery, a cellar door also comes with the reasonable expectation there’ll be a restaurant next door with a set menu, a wine pairing and, hopefully, a killer view.

This growing alignment with the wine industry is a good thing for the beer scene. But the former has also come a long way in the last few years. The lo-fi movement has made the industry a far more democratic space, capturing a new cohort of young drinkers who are far less interested in the technical, “if you know, you know” aspects of wine. They just want a juicy, affordable drop to guzzle in the sun.

“My biggest concern is the next generation – they’re not drinking beer,” says Nic Sandery, founder of Molly Rose in Collingwood. “To them, beer is this fizzy yellow liquid that men with pot bellies drink at the footy.”

While Sandery’s very much in the business of changing that perception, he believes trying to make beer fancier or more complicated isn’t how the industry gets ahead. “We don’t put tech specs on the can,” he says. “I don’t think it does anything for the customer. I don’t give too much information about tasting notes, about ingredients, about intention. We like telling stories and sharing experiences.”

Of those experiences, the brewery’s monthly chef’s table is the one to book. Guests sit around the open counter and are given the option to match inventive Southeast Asian dishes with Molly Rose beers and spirits. The experience acts like a Trojan horse, bringing beer into a dining context where it hadn’t existed before. Like the vineyards outside the winery restaurant, those gleaming tanks are a constant reminder of where you are.

“It’s not an everyday thing, an every-week thing or even an every-month thing,” says Sandery of the price tag ($120 for six courses, with matching drinks for $175). “But I’d like it to be achievable for people who love beer. And I’d also like to bring in people from outside of beer, who love great food. We’re trying to meet in the middle there.”

Despite such promising developments, the beer industry is facing a major existential crisis. There are myriad factors involved, but it’s the breweries with an edge that are more likely to survive. Because in 2024, it’s no longer viable to brew a decent pale ale, roll a burger truck into an empty warehouse and wait for the beer bros to come. The stakes are way too high.

Additional reporting by Nick Connellan.