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On any given weekend in Sydney, few diners are having a better time in each other’s company than the bunch of septuagenarians at the Austrian Club’s “stammtisch” table.

The stammtisch is often provided in German-speaking restaurants for guests who’d prefer not to eat alone, and at the Frenchs Forest clubhouse it’s usually occupied by a dozen regulars prone to breaking out in song. Prost! The blokes all have faces like side characters in a Tintin comic, and one day I may work up the confidence to join them.

For 45 years, the community hall-style venue has been a place of jaegerschnitzels, live music and cherry schnapps, plus an excellent apple strudel with an unhealthy amount of cream. Its warm vibe is infectious and the other week, after three weissbiers and a light polka, I started feeling patriotic for a country I’ve never visited and to which I’ve no family ties. There’s probably a word for it in German.

Sunday is arguably the best day to visit, with the nearby Dutch Club also open for its weekly, four-hour window until 3pm; pop in for a sneaky bitterballen beforehand. Indeed, the cul-de-sac wrapping Ararat Reserve’s soccer field is the northern beaches’ own World Expo 88, with the Austrians bordering the Czech and Slovak club (try the goulash).

After three weissbiers and a light polka, I started feeling patriotic for a country I’ve never visited and to which I’ve no family ties.

At one point, there were also active Armenian, Danish and Swedish clubs on the block, buoyed by postwar migration to the area. (Blocks of land were cheap and Brookvale’s factory belt was nearby.)

The Austrian Club was closed for a short while over summer, but reopened in early February with a refurbished bar and four extra beer taps. Otherwise, it’s gemütlich business as usual: turf-green Tyrolean hats for sale; Hans and Heidi figures on the bathroom doors; deer-based taxidermy; and trophy displays of air-rifle victories.

Then there’s the view. Guests seated in a raised area near the bar can sit back with a schnitzel while gazing over Garigal National Park. Outdoor tables are popular with bushwalkers seeking cold steins after a grade-three hike.

And yes, you absolutely should order the Vienna-style pork schnitzel, too, which is much juicier than its pounded, wrinkled shape suggests ,and excellent value at $29. It comes with deliciously tangy potato salad – proudly mayonnaise-free – although you may also want a $5 boat of fork-sticking gravy. The same seven-hour-simmered gravy coats two pan-sizzled Thüringer bratwurst snags on the sausage plate, a barnstorming medley of red cabbage, fat and deeply golden spuds (they know their way around a potato here).

Given that too much of a good thing can lead to an appointment with Pittwater Cardiology, I’d skip the crumbed, oozing cheese in favour of the invigorating beef broth and liver dumpling soup, also known as leberknödelsuppe and terrific with dark Bavarian lager. Schweinebraten translates to an intimidating amount of roast pork with gnarled, crackling, sauerkraut, jus and squidgy semmelknödel bread dumplings. I haven’t seen this much meat on a plate since the Crescent Head Country Club carvery at Christmas.

But, like so many clubs in NSW, the Crescent Head Country Club is largely fuelled by the pokie losses of its members and guests. The Austrian Club never went down the gaming path, preferring to remain volunteer-run and family-friendly.

According to its Austria Kurier newsletter, the club is always looking for more volunteers to work the bar. If my Responsible Service of Alcohol certificate is still valid, this could be a fast-track ticket to stammtisch acceptance.