The return of the prodigal chef. The backstreet location. The wine list that champions the natural and the unknown. The lack of menu. The smoking and fermenting, curing and cooking over flames.

But Igni is so much more than the sum of its so-hot-right-now parts.

It’s driven by a room that’s spacious and supremely comfortable, fuelled by service genuinely warm and humbly unaffected, stoked by the best playlist in the land and completed by cooking that’s a refined, pitch-perfect celebration of produce backed by technique.

Whether an opener of fried chicken skin topped with whipped roe — one of a quintet of brilliant bites — or a cheese course of goat’s granita, or a slice of Great Ocean duck that’s elegantly smoked and served with bracing finger limes, a meal at Igni is exciting yet approachable, innovative yet accessibly familiar.

The charcoal grill gets an expected but deftly delivered workout, imparting toasty, charry smokiness across five or eight courses to which an alluringly savoury apple and custard proves a fitting finale.

Aaron Turner is back. And how. Igni is on fire.

Must eat dish: cuttlefish celeriac