Riley St Garage

It's what psychologists call positive reinforcement. Truly, no matter how bad your day (barring terminal illness, war, imprisonment, wisdom tooth extraction), you will feel a lot better by the time you have parked your butt at Riley Street Garage.

"Good evening, I have booked a table for two."

"Not a problem."

"May I sit by the wall, away from the large party group?"

"Not a problem."

"Tap water, thanks."

"Not a problem."

And you know what? They're right. There IS no problem. You're in a warm, buzzy, happening place. Like really happening, even on a cold, wet, Tuesday night.

Brody Petersen, who most recently launched American barbecue bar Surly's in Surry Hills, first opened Riley Street Garage in late 2013 in a striking art deco building that was once home to a thirties motor hire company and was later Frank Lowy's garage. The bare bricks warehouse space is split by a Beresford-like long central island bar, a gloss-tiled kitchen to one side.

The garage theming is unashamed, with atmospheric old automotive photographs on the walls, the odd oil tin, and a menu that's headed "Service Manual". Perhaps describing the floor staff as "mechanics"  is a step too far, but what are waiters if not mechanics in the grease-and-oil-change of dining?

Head chef Regan Porteous, from Zuma in London and Toko in Surry Hills, loads his contemporary, vaguely Japanese-influenced menu with a stack of statement dishes that have been here since day one and don't look like going anywhere any time soon. All around, birthday groups, fashion and media peeps tuck into chorizo corn dogs, slow-cooked lamb shoulder, shoestring fries and banana splits with honeycomb foam.

You want oysters? Not a problem. Pacific or Rocks ($4 each) are done in a number of ways, dramatically presented on ice in a handsome, wooden Laphroaig single malt crate. Mine are drenched in a power-packed, black, oily, smoky, soy truffle vinaigrette, the vinegar component successfully killing off the truffle oil.

Cocktails are unsurprisingly not a problem here – try a Judo Chop of vodka, elderflower syrup and apple juice – and neither is wine, with a usable list of boutique Australian wineries that includes a 2014 Holly's Garden Pinot Gris from Whitlands in Victoria ($16/$74).

The signature "fish and chip tartare" ($18) sounds gimmicky, but the idea actually works, the chop-chop of silky, miso-dressed salmon picked up by salty potato crisps.

Beetroot is served pureed, roasted and pickled with goat's curd, pea sprouts and candied walnuts ($15), a good antidote to the massive meat hit that is Riley Street's slow-cooked then crisp-fried whole pork knuckle ($46).

Visions of Vienna and the famous Schweizerhaus restaurant in the city's Prater amusement park float in front of my eyes as the gnarly, twice-cooked pork hock lands on the table, looking practically fossilised within its crisp, crunchy armour of crackling under a ladleful of soy and seeded mustard dressing. The skin actually crunches, and the meat tastes good and homely, although it's nowhere near the meltingly soft fattiness of my Schweizerhaus dreams.

Dessert may be a prettily deconstructed "liquid  lemon cheesecake" ($14), all cream, lemon curd, cream cheese and lemon foam with "crowd-pleaser" written all over it.

Riley Street Garage isn't anything new, but it works. It's fun, buzzy, interesting, convivial, fast-paced and eager to please. And it seems to do what it does without a problem in the world.

THE LOW-DOWN

Best bit: The let's-party vibe.

Worst bit: The let's-party noise levels.

Go-to-dish: Crispy pork knuckle with soy seeded mustard to share, $46.