It will take decades to prove me right, but I'll say it anyway. The Keys is a new northside institution, a place today's 10-year-olds will bring their kids in 20-40-something and bore them senseless with back-in-my-day tales.

How do I know? Because it's been built right, with heart, depth and an eye on inclusivity and longevity.

The Keys is already a beer garden, bowling alley and pub lounge but there's even more room to develop this 3000-square-metre ex-sawmill site. If Melbourne needs it, The Keys may well create it.

Owners Tom Peasnell (Dexter, Dom's Social Club, Takeaway Pizza) and his high-school mate Jon Rowatt (Dom's Social Club) are tenpin bowling fans from way back. They love the zing and zap of modern venues, but they adore scuffed old-school alleys even more.

The Keys is what happens when you lovingly interweave a 1950s Los Angeles bowling alley fantasy with a paragon Melbourne pub.

As well as 12 bowling lanes, there's a beer garden, games arcade and bar lined with beer taps (including a house lager, which is as close as you'll get to Carlton Draught without slinging coin in the CUB direction).

Accessibility is a focus. As well as wheelchair access, there will be quiet times designed for people with autism, backed up by staff training in disability awareness.

There's a story wherever you look. Outdoor tables are hewn from a granite slab; each one weighs 700 kilos. Bowling and bar-themed leadlight panels took a year to painstakingly craft. The lanes utilise reclaimed timber, including Canadian maple that was (probably) used in a Wagga Wagga bowling venue that closed in the 1950s.

The food offering is in three parts: pizzas are cheeky spins on classics, such as the ham pizza with treacle pineapple.

"Gutter snacks" are high-quality versions of low-rent bites, mostly fried and salty.

There's a mini collection of pub classics, including parma and fish and chips. The whole menu is tight while the team gears up; an expanded version will launch in February.

I am a fan of the gutter dog, a winking homage to trashy frankfurters in the form of an organic foot-long pork sausage with just the right twang and snap, poking from a crackly bun, slathered with American mustard and sweet-sour relish. Please, wipe your fingers before you stick them in a bowling ball.

Also messily marvellous is the burger, a simple fast-foody squish of fatty beef pattie, tongue-coating cheese and mayo-based sauce laced with spiced brine.

A charmingly retro skew means there's White Russian on tap and Steak Diane on the plate, made with dry-aged beef and full-flavoured gravy.

I also like the low-brow high-froth Nascar Spritz, served with a pour-yourself bottle of Budweiser.

The Keys is a busy beast, so here are some tips: book a lane if you want to bowl. Remember that the person serving you has probably worked there for five minutes. Above all, be patient and happy, because, as you now know, you have decades of The Keys in your future.