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How to Eat the Great Ocean Road: A 5-Day Food and Wine Guide
Planning a Great Ocean Road trip? Turn the drive into one worth eating through, not around, with the best seafood shacks, bakeries, cellar doors and destination restaurants along the coast.
For too long, the Great Ocean Road has been treated like scenery with a side of fish and chips. The cliffs get the postcards, the surf gets the mythology and the Twelve Apostles get the busloads. But the real story is happening behind the bends, across abalone farms, dairy country, cellar doors and kitchens such as Apollo Bay Fishermen’s Co-op, The Perch in Lavers Hill, Basalt Wines near Port Fairy and Brae in Birregurra, all shaped by what is caught, grown and made around them.
Five days along this storied stretch left me with one inescapable conclusion: Victoria has a major food region hiding in plain sight. The cliffs and beaches may be doing the marketing, but the fishing boats, dairy farms, volcanic paddocks and Otways kitchens are giving the road its flavour. Here is the dream five-day route, best taken slowly — either behind the wheel or with a local who knows when the schedule should be abandoned for a koala, a waterfall or lunch.
How To Eat The Great Ocean Road In Five Days
Day One: Melbourne To Anglesea, Via Torquay
Leave Melbourne early and let Torquay reset the pace. Before the cliffs rise and the road begins to curl, the Great Ocean Road opens with warm bread, strong coffee and a surf town that has become one of Victoria’s most exciting places to eat.
Start at Mortadeli, a Mediterranean caffetteria and grocer inside a Gilbert Street piazza. Order coffee and a cannolo, then wander down to Front Beach before returning after 11am, when panini begin arriving layered with mortadella, stracciatella and cultured tomato butter. The Maltese-inspired hobz is another essential, packed with tuna, olives, capers and salted ricotta. The menu changes, but the bread is always fresh and the fillings arrive with glorious abandon.
For a slower lunch, book The Kyn instead. Its weatherboard dining room overlooks the water, while the kitchen moves through Middle Eastern flavours: Zeally Bay focaccia with stracciatella and rosemary dukkah, chilli-salted school prawns and generous shared plates.
From Torquay, the road loosens towards Anglesea. Check into The Monty, the 16-room reincarnation of a low-slung 1980s motor inn, reworked by Melbourne studio Cera Stribley with Palm Springs glamour, space-age optimism and a trace of Australian family-holiday kitsch. Its original roadside layout remains, now sharpened with breeze blocks, bright doors, palms and cacti gathered around an outdoor pool.
Inside, checkerboard floors, curved forms and warm sunset tones continue the playfulness without sacrificing comfort. Directly opposite the Anglesea River boardwalk, it places the beach, shops and cafes within an easy walk. The moment you pull in, the road trip clicks fully into holiday mode.
Drop the bags and follow the boardwalk towards the beach, although once Nina opens, leaving the motel may become much harder. Slated for late 2026, the Mexican cantina will serve tacos, poolside snacks and margaritas, bringing a salty, lime-bright breeziness to a stretch of the Victorian coast that has long been missing it.
Until then, dinner belongs to The Coast, sitting leafy and low-lit at the back of Great Ocean Road Resort and far more accomplished than the words “resort restaurant” might suggest. The room is mellow, warm and almost comically easy to miss; the kitchen, meanwhile, is maxing out the region.
Zeally Bay bread meets Mount Moriac olive oil, Meredith goat’s cheese and Otway produce, while the bar keeps its wines, spirits and beers close to the coast. Even the tableware stays local, handmade by Surf Coast ceramicist Angela Nicholson, with water jugs by Anglesea artist Melinda Solly.
Start with the grilled Australian sardines, glossy with lemon and confit garlic butter, before the pink ling arrives with fennel, cherry tomatoes, green beans and black olives. It is classic coastal cooking with its shoulders relaxed: recognisable, generous and modern without straining to announce itself.
Afterwards, follow the river back through the trees, local wine still warming the edges of the evening and The Monty’s bright doors glowing ahead. Anglesea has gone soft and quiet around you. Leave the car keys buried at the bottom of your bag; the day has carried you exactly where it needed to.
Prefer Someone Else to Handle the Bends?
Jimmy Kambouris of Lorne Tours runs private Great Ocean Road tours shaped around the lookouts, wildlife encounters and short walks most itineraries miss. After more than 45 years exploring the coastline, he is less a guide than its human operating system: full of stories, delighted by every waterfall and somehow always aware of exactly how long remains before lunch.
Jimmy’s family bought Lorne’s Grand Pacific Hotel in 1975 and ran it for 23 years, so he grew up while Skyhooks, Australian Crawl and Men at Work played downstairs and visiting musicians wandered into the family kitchen. Surrender gracefully; he knows the road better than the road knows itself.
Day Two: Bellbrae, Lorne and Apollo Bay
Backtrack briefly to Bellbrae for breakfast at Great Ocean Road Chocolaterie & Ice Creamery, set against paddocks that seem almost excessively green. Join one of its guided tastings, moving through 12 handmade chocolates as flavour, texture and technique shift from one piece to the next. I am fully committed to the savoury side of life, so leaving with a new appreciation for chocolate felt close to miraculous.
Sitchu Tip: Throughout August, the annual Hot Chocolate Festival makes restraint even less likely.
Then turn west and take your time. The drive into Lorne threads between forest and sea, revealing the first great sweeps of coastline as the road begins to live up to its name. Park near the pier and walk to the end before lunch at the revived Grand Pacific Hotel, restored to its commanding place above Louttit Bay.
Dating to 1879, the hotel still carries itself like a grand old dame, only one perfectly happy to welcome sandy shoes, a martini and lunch that runs well past schedule. Louttit Bay fills the windows, the room retains the easy spirit of a seaside pub and the Italian-influenced menu is far more exciting than anyone needs it to be.
Begin with chargrilled king prawns glossed in chilli honey and lemon, then order the squid-ink tagliolini, tangled with Portarlington mussels, prawns, scallops and calamari in white wine sauce. It tastes like the coastline outside the windows, only with more butter. The lamb rump is another reason to stay put, arriving with crispy roasted chats, cime di rapa, grilled zucchini, olives and a dark lamb-and-cognac sauce.
Follow the martini with a glass of wine, sink further into your chair and let the afternoon rearrange itself. This was the lunch that finally broke whatever spell had kept me racing through the itinerary. Somewhere between the pasta and one more pour, I stopped thinking about the next stop and realised I was fully, blissfully on holiday.
From Lorne, allow an hour for the curling drive to Apollo Bay. Forest presses close on one side; Bass Strait flashes through the trees on the other. Pull over when the ocean demands it, or when a koala appears high in the gums, but keep a little appetite for the Apollo Bay Fishermen’s Co-op.
If local Southern Rock Lobster is available, order enough to share beside the harbour, then wander across town for a flight at Apollo Bay Distillery. Housed inside the former post office, the distillery produces gin and vodka onsite using a copper column still, with local botanicals and the region’s shipwreck history carried through the range.
The names read like fragments of coastal folklore: SS Casino Dry Gin, Speculant Grapefruit Gin, Australian Ocean Gin and Captain Chapman’s Navy Strength. The anchor of the ill-fated SS Casino sits nearby, a reminder that this pretty harbour town was once connected to the rest of the coast by vessels navigating notoriously dangerous waters.
Southern Rock Lobster followed by gin should not make quite this much sense, yet it does: sweet, saline and botanical, eaten and poured within sight of the fishing fleet. By the end of the tasting flight, I was happy as a clam and very open to one more gin.
To stay? Take over The Great Escape in nearby Marengo, the coastal house families spend years trying to find. Six bedrooms, three bathrooms, sprawling living spaces, broad decks, a games room and an acre of lawn give everyone somewhere to land, from the first cup of tea in the morning to the last glass poured after dark.
It has the sun-faded warmth of a beach house your parents would book, fill with enough food for a fortnight and immediately begin planning a return to. Bags disappear into bedrooms, doors stay open to the salt air and someone is always padding into the kitchen in search of tea. The beach is just there, the Otways rise behind you and the gin has, naturally, come home too.
Later, head into Apollo Bay for dinner at Graze, a compact 40-seat bistro with big-city cooking and the easy hospitality of a place that belongs to the town. Chef-owner Julian Toussaint built the milled Blackwood tables and Spotted Gum bar himself, and that personal investment carries through the room.
The food has ambition, but never an ego. Depending on the season, that might mean Manhattan-style Portarlington mussel chowder or cherrywood-smoked duck breast with candied yams and duck glaze; dishes with enough going on to surprise you, served without a lecture first. Save room for the lime crème brûlée with raspberry coulis.
Graze is the restaurant you hope to find in a coastal town: more exciting than the room initially lets on, generous where it counts and entirely at ease with itself. Step back onto Pascoe Street and Apollo Bay has softened into night, the harbour dim below town, the Otways rising dark behind the rooftops and the ocean still audible in the distance.
Day Three: The Otways, Twelve Apostles and Timboon
Begin before breakfast at Wildlife Wonders, following the Dawn Discovery trail as the first light reaches the Southern Ocean and the bush begins to stir. I have done this twice now, and it never loses its strange little spell.
There is something of Dot and the Kangaroo in it: fern gullies, emus appearing without warning and watchful animals half-concealed in the understorey. It returns me to the Australia I loved as a child, full of odd little creatures and the sense that the bush knows something you do not. A cool, ancient calm settles over you out here. The guided dawn experience follows a 1.4-kilometre trail through protected habitat, with every visit helping fund conservation work across the Otways.
Breakfast follows at Emu Cafe, looking straight back into the bush you have just walked through. If the shakshuka appears on the seasonal menu, order it; mine was a hit and a half, exactly the warm, tomato-rich return to earth required after spending the morning in an Australian fairytale. The cafe draws on local produce, pours coffee roasted nearby and directs its profits back into conservation work.
From there, step into Maits Rest. A little rain improves everything. Water beads along the tree ferns, moss brightens over ancient roots and the boardwalk slips beneath Myrtle Beech trees that have stood for centuries. The whole rainforest seems to gleam from within.
Lunch waits at The Perch in Lavers Hill, sitting at the highest point of the Great Ocean Road between gardens and old-growth forest. On a grey, rain-washed afternoon, it has much the same magic as the rainforest: broad views and rosellas dissolving into mist outside and dark timber warmth within.
The kitchen works directly with nearby farmers and fishers, and that short journey from source to plate is easy to taste. Local rockling arrives with caramelised fennel and blackened leek; Apollo Bay rock lobster is folded beneath a parmesan-and-herb mornay, with orange cutting through the richness. Even the buffalo mozzarella is made in-house for tomatoes grown in the surrounding foothills. By this point in the trip, the produce has become its own form of luxury. Everything tastes as though it travelled metres rather than kilometres to reach you.
Then the forest releases you into open sky.
At the Twelve Apostles, the famous view is only the beginning of what is happening. These limestone stacks rise as high as 45 metres, remnants of the same cliffs the Southern Ocean is still carving into caves, arches and offshore towers. Stand at the lookout long enough and they stop resembling fixed monuments; the entire coastline appears caught mid-transformation, immense and beautiful precisely because none of it is staying still.
Sitchu Tip: Book the helicopter flight. From the ground, the Twelve Apostles command the frame; from above, they become one fragment of something much larger. Cliffs give way to beaches, coves and submerged reefs, with the Shipwreck Coast stretching in both directions beneath the rotors. The flight reveals a scale postcards never can: not a collection of isolated stacks, but a living edge of the continent being continually remade by the sea.
Turn inland for Timboon, trading limestone cliffs for dairy farms and green creek valleys. Timboon Railway Shed Distillery occupies the old goods shed at the end of the former railway line, its copper stills now operating openly beneath timber trusses. The legal whisky carries on a much less legal local tradition: in the late 1800s, Tom Delaney and the Nirranda distillers made their sought-after “Mountain Dew” in hidden bush stills, pursued by detective, boxer and master of disguise John Mitchell Christie. Taste the single malt with that story in mind, and suddenly the warmth in the glass carries a flicker of outlaw fire.
Cross the footbridge afterwards for a scoop at Timboon Fine Ice Cream. Founded by a third-generation dairy farmer determined to make more of the family’s milk, it still uses fresh milk and cream from farms nearby. Schulz Organic Dairy sits only minutes away, producing small-batch milk, cream and cultured dairy on the family farm. This is dairy country in the truest sense, with rich pasture underfoot and generations of know-how behind every litre. Seriously. No wonder the ice cream hits harder here.
Finish in Port Fairy inside the bluestone walls of Old Market Inn. The building carries the elegance of another era, but nothing feels stiff or overly preserved. The rooms are hushed, the details beautifully judged and the entire stay seems to understand exactly how tired you are.
After days of winding roads, bookings and scenery competing for your attention, its calm feels almost medicinal. Put down the keys, close the door and let the quiet gather around you. Port Fairy already moves at a gentler pace; here, slowing down feels less like a decision than the only possible conclusion. As evening settles over the bluestone cottages, the whisky warmth softens, a trace of ice cream sweetness remains and there is nowhere else you need to be.
Day Four: Port Fairy, Abalone And Warrnambool
After yesterday’s rain-dark forest, limestone cliffs and outlaw whisky, the journey settles into something slower and saltier. Today, the landscape becomes the meal.
Begin five minutes outside Port Fairy at Ocean Road Abalone, one of Australia’s earliest land-based abalone farms. Book one of its limited public tours — or arrange a private group visit — and follow prized tiger abalone from nursery tanks through shadowy growing sheds constantly washed with Southern Ocean water.
The 90-minute experience ends with a tasting that reveals its sweetness and delicacy, qualities easily lost when abalone is treated as culinary shorthand for luxury. I first ate this exact abalone at an Italian restaurant in Noosa, which tells you something about how highly it is regarded. It travels far, kids, although tasting it this close to the source is another thing entirely.
Return to Port Fairy for lunch at The Stump. The Caledonian Inn has stood here since 1844, its low ceilings and old pub bones the right counterpoint to the morning’s premium seafood. Settle beside the fire and order from the classics: roast of the day with duck-fat potatoes, beer-battered flake or a schnitzel, followed by warm apple crumble.
The afternoon belongs to Basalt Wines, 15 minutes away in Killarney. What began as a potato paddock now carries Riesling, Pinot Noir and Tempranillo through black volcanic soil and cool coastal air. Take a seat at the cellar door, begin with the crisp Riesling and finish with the silken Pinot as the vines run towards the horizon.
Sitchu Tip: Prefer to wake among the vines? Turn the tasting into an overnight stay at Basalt Retreat, the Great Ocean Road’s only vineyard accommodation. Its two architect-designed, adults-only villas sit among 24-year-old vines, each with a fireplace, private deck, locally sourced breakfast hamper and honesty bar.
From Killarney, continue east to Warrnambool and check in for the night. Tonight belongs to Lost Cat, the family-run Liebig Street bistro chef Zac Nicholson opened after returning home from Melbourne kitchens including Hazel and Jamsheed. Partner Jasmine Leung runs the floor, the children have been known to pitch in and the name honours Larry, the family cat who disappeared. It’s a tender origin story for a restaurant with so much heart.
The menu follows the season and what is arriving from local growers, moving from snapper crudo with white soy to charred cabbage beneath cashew cream, chicken schnitzel and scotch fillet with umami butter. It is city-sharp cooking without the city ego, served in a casual room full of locals who already know what they have.
Afterwards, follow the coast back towards Killarney and Port Fairy, returning to the bluestone quiet of Old Market Inn or continuing only as far as Basalt Retreat, the vineyard dark beyond the windows and tomorrow morning’s hot springs waiting back down the road.
Day Five: Warrnambool To Birregurra
Let the final morning begin in steam.
Book the first session at Deep Blue Hot Springs and drift between geothermal rock pools, warmer pockets, sensory caves and streams of falling water as Warrnambool wakes beyond the walls. There is something wonderfully primal about crawling into shadowy spaces, floating through heat and forgetting which pool you intended to try next.
I visited at a time when life felt relentlessly loud, and two hours here created the rare sensation of being suspended outside it. The experience is playful enough to return you to childhood, yet restorative enough to meet the exhausted adult who arrived needing everything to stop.
Go deeper with a separate session in the softly lit Salt Room, sinking into a lounge chair with finely crushed salt beneath your feet and a guided seaside meditation flowing through the headphones. Pharmaceutical-grade salt drifts through the air for 45 minutes, but the real effect is simpler: somewhere between the first deep breath and the final chime, self-care stops sounding like admin.
Deep Blue isn’t just some wellness extra to squeeze in if time permits. It is reason enough to finish the Great Ocean Road in Warrnambool: the point at which the journey stops asking anything of you — other than perhaps whether you can stay another hour.
Then turn inland. The drive to Birregurra carries you through dairy country and the Otways’ deep green folds. At the end waits Brae, and nothing afterwards should compete with it.
Chef Dan Hunter’s restaurant and organic farm is the grandest meal of the trip and the entire journey brought to its natural conclusion. For five days, the road has shown you what happens when kitchens cook close to the source. At Brae, the distance between landscape and plate all but disappears.
Up to 90 per cent of the vegetables, fruit, nuts, berries, olives, honey, grain and Australian edible plants served in the restaurant are grown organically on the farm. Even the sourdough begins as grain cultivated onsite, then milled and baked within 100 metres of the dining room.
The tasting menu moves with what the land is ready to give, supported by ingredients from ethical farmers, fishers and makers across the region. Choose the alcoholic or botanical non-alcoholic pairing, settle in and let the afternoon take the time it needs. This is cooking that does not simply celebrate its location; it could not exist anywhere else.
Sitchu Tip: On Fridays and Saturdays, Brae’s head gardener leads an 11am walk through the 20-acre organic farm, passing vegetable beds, orchards, the olive grove and polytunnel while tasting what is ready for harvest. To join without rushing, move Deep Blue to the previous evening and drive directly to Birregurra in the morning.
Then return to Melbourne as daylight slips from the paddocks. Five days after setting out, the road ends exactly as it should: deep in the countryside, with the garden still on the plate.
FAQs
Five days allows a proper pace, covering Torquay, Anglesea, Lorne, Apollo Bay, the Otways, the Twelve Apostles, Timboon, Port Fairy and Warrnambool before finishing at Brae in Birregurra. This spreads the drive across manageable legs rather than rushing the coast in a single day, and leaves room for a distillery tour, a cellar door tasting, an abalone farm visit and at least one long lunch that runs well past schedule. It’s a route built around the food and wine stops rather than the drive itself, so the days are shorter than a typical point-to-point road trip.
Brae in Birregurra, chef Dan Hunter’s restaurant and organic farm just inland from the coast, is the standout. Up to 90 per cent of the produce served, including the grain milled for the sourdough, is grown organically on the property, and the tasting menu changes with what the farm has ready to give. For a more casual option along the route itself, the Grand Pacific Hotel in Lorne serves an Italian-influenced menu overlooking Louttit Bay, while Lost Cat in Warrnambool offers city-sharp cooking from chefs Zac Nicholson and Jasmine Leung in a relaxed neighbourhood setting.
The Perch in Lavers Hill, at the highest point of the Great Ocean Road, is the closest strong lunch option to the Twelve Apostles. The kitchen works directly with nearby farmers and fishers, serving dishes such as local rockling with caramelised fennel and Apollo Bay rock lobster beneath a parmesan-and-herb mornay. Its position between old-growth forest and open sky makes it a natural stop either just before or just after visiting the limestone stacks, and even the buffalo mozzarella is made in-house from local milk.
Yes. Ocean Road Abalone, just outside Port Fairy, is one of Australia’s earliest land-based abalone farms and runs limited public tours as well as private group visits. The 90-minute experience follows tiger abalone from nursery tanks through growing sheds constantly washed with Southern Ocean water, ending with a tasting that shows off its natural sweetness and delicacy. It’s one of the few places on the route where you can see exactly where a signature piece of local seafood comes from before eating it.
Yes, both detours are worth building into the itinerary. Timboon offers whisky tasting at Timboon Railway Shed Distillery, built on a local bush-still tradition, plus ice cream made using milk from nearby dairy farms including Schulz Organic Dairy. Birregurra, further inland near the end of the route, is home to Brae, widely regarded as one of the strongest reasons to extend a Great Ocean Road trip beyond the coastline itself. Both stops trade the cliffs and beaches for dairy country and volcanic paddocks, rounding out the trip’s food story.
Extend the escape with our guide to the best luxury accommodation on the Great Ocean Road, from architectural retreats to oceanfront stays. Or keep eating your way across the state with the best regional dining in Victoria, spanning destination restaurants, country pubs and produce-driven tables worth planning a weekend around.
