Bavarian beer gardens: A quick guide to biergarten culture in Germany

The Bavarians, who invented the beer garden now common across Germany, still know best how to enjoy it. The aim is sociability, so abandon your stereotype of the Germans as serious and humourless. In beer gardens, you'll find Germans at their relaxed best, and get your best opportunities for local interaction.

You're expected to share trestle tables and introduce yourself to newfound companions. Regular toasts are polite, though you're only expected to sip. Drunkenness is frowned upon. Conversation is expected. You might end up chatting to businesspeople about the world economy, or university students about Nietzsche's philosophy. Equally, you might be induced into lusty Bavarian hiking songs and find yourself banging on the table to the tune.

Beer gardens emerged in Munich in the early 19th century when picnicking summer crowds headed to parks along the Isar River, and brewers began selling them beer. You can get a flavour of those days at one of Munich's oldest beer gardens surrounding the Chinese pavilion in the English Garden. At weekends, hundreds drink as an oompah band plays with the energy of a gale-force wind.

Beerhall owners lured customers back by setting up gardens and allowing patrons to bring their own food. In Munich, the loveliest beer garden is Augustiner Schutzengarten under chestnut trees beside a gracious white mansion beyond the tourist trail. The most epic is Koniglicher Hirschgarten near Nymphenburg Palace, which can seat 8000. Bring the kids, because it's surrounded by meadows and playgrounds.

Not every beer garden still allows you to bring food, so ask. But why bother when beer-garden dishes are reasonably priced and filling? The adventurous can dig into liver dumplings or pig's tongue. More appealing are Frisbee-sized schnitzels and spicy veal weisswurst sausages served with mustard and a bread roll sprinkled with pumpernickel seeds. Other classic dishes are grilled fish on a stick, Bavarian cheese spread, pork knuckle, potato salad and cold cuts.

The beer is half the price of Australia's, and twice as good. It comes in one-litre tankards that, when full, weigh two kilos but offer little challenge to buxom servers in dirndls, who haul them out a half-dozen at a time. Settle in and make new friends. A band might strike up. Tubas burp, arms are linked and Lederhosen slapped. At 10:30pm sharp a bell sounds and the fun is over, and you'll have to wait until next day before you can grin and beer it again.