The Hofbräuhaus is a surprising recreation of a historic Munich brewery-restaurant. Heavy iron light-fittings and a host of materials, from wooden panels to tiles, are deployed with Teutonic thoroughness to ensure that wherever your eye falls, the illusion is complete. Additional authenticity, for us, came from sharing our alcove with some homesick, and genuinely thirsty, Germans.

But what really completes the interior journey from Deira to Bavaria are the traditional beverages of the original Hofbräuhaus. As well as being a treat in themselves for connoisseurs of barley, hops and wheat, a glass or two is the key to unlocking the menu’s powerful, hidden logic.

Without the assistance of liquid refreshment, its insistence on hearty fun could well intimidate the uninitiated. You know you are not in Kansas anymore when a basket of traditional bread arrives accompanied not only by butter but by a little tub of pork fat and apple – a sure sign that you are in for a very lardy ride, but that you are going to enjoy it.

For starters we took deep fried shrimps and cheese from the Harz mountains. The shrimps were nice but unexciting. The cheese, however, cut into tangy slices and served with onion and vinegar was a revelation. At least it was for me, who enjoyed it with a wheat-based beverage. For my wife, who stuck to water, its effect was evocative of a bulldog licking a thistle.

Luckily, the German way with sausages was enough to briefly restore the fragile matrimonial calm (soon shattered anew by an insensitive reaction to the subtle pathos of my rendition of traditional German song). The five specimens in the ‘Hofbräuhaus sausage plate’ came with mashed potato and sauerkraut not, in fact, on a plate but in a solidly-constructed frying pan. As did my choice, a Bavarian grill platter of chicken, lamb chops and skewered chunks of beef on a shimmering layer of grease.

This wholehearted, but expertly cooked, fare came in intimidating industrial portions that would defeat many, even with the benefit of copious liquid digestives. And the slice of apple strudel I ordered for pudding would also suffice for two – although it was, by contrast, surprisingly delicate. All in all, however, this is an experience for gourmands rather than gourmets. Come if you’re prepared to make that mental trip to Munich and to enjoy the food and drink on its own terms. You will find, however, that in these surroundings discovering your own inner Bavarian can be surprisingly painless.