Night is falling as I turn off the M1. It's OK though: there are lights aplenty. Hungry Jack's, McDonald's, Domino's, KFC, Taco Bell, Red Rooster, they're all there, the Sirens of the Service Lane, frying under their beckoning beacons.

I'm not here for hose-down interiors and standardised menus, though. I'm here for the little place out the back, past the pokies pub and next to the shisha cave, the one with the spray-painted lightbox saying "Munchies".

Munchies – all heart, so tasty, here for the 'hood – will celebrate five years in December. It's a place for approachable food made with care, aiming at comfort. The staff are locals, mostly working their first jobs, part of a community, not just a payroll.

The customers are locals, too: parents swinging by after messaging a takeaway order over Instagram; homies sipping from plastic cups full of Ribena and Sprite and wrangling wings and hot sauce while they kick back on the pavement.

Inside, the walls are covered in party pics and memes, and a portrait of Princess Di is on the hero wall alongside rapper Slick Rick. If you're Anglo, you're the minority.

Owner John Chinsami's family background is Fijian-Indian. He grew up in the neighbourhood and worked in local cafes before slinging corporate coffee in the city. When his mates started working at upscale places, he got interested in fancy restaurants too. Jobs at the Vue Group's Jardin Tan and Burnham Beeches followed, then a restorative stint at intimate farm-to-fine-diner O.My, which is back in the south-east.

Munchies and its $17 fried chicken sandwiches might not seem like an obvious next step from O.My and its $220 tasting menu, but there are similarities in the anchoring in place and the belief that gathering around food can offer safety and identity.

The menu is genre-jumping. It's a burger joint with burritos, a chicken shop with tacos, a diner with deep-fried Oreos. You order at the counter and the food comes in takeaway boxes but there are tables for eating in too.

The cheesesteak is excellent. Seared rump, rumbled on the grill with cheddar and onions, piled into a panini from local artisan Blanc Bakery and juiced up with mayo and mustard. In a genius move, it's served with beef consomme, like a birria taco, turning a treat that's merely wonderful into an experience that delivers both body and soul to Flavour Town.

A BBQ cheeseburger is a squishy smash of two patties in a brioche bun with all the fixings. It's a salty, oozy, pickle-spiked delight and you wouldn't change a thing.

Dishes come with chips or rice. I'd go the grain because it's a suburban staple: turmeric stained, a little bit garlicky with a slight paprika kick.

I love Munchies because the food is delicious and does exactly the job it sets out to do.

But I probably love it most because it's honest and open, a different kind of beacon for Berwick, a sweet, sour 'n' salty siren song of belonging.