First impressions of the venue’s imposing façade, soaring ceilings and scandi-chic furnishings prompt the question of whether the earthy, eclectic suburb of West End is really a suitable spot for a celebrity chef to set up his rather schmic new restaurant? The answer seems to be a resounding “yes chef” when the chef in question is Ben O’Donoghue. In the style stakes it’s a big, shiny step up from the humble suburban sister venue of the same name, but food-wise remains true to the unfussy, flavorsome fare for which he is known; O’Donoghue does earthy well, and much like the surrounding suburb, his menus seamlessly meld a remarkable array of ethnicities into one very agreeable, if somewhat unlikely collection.

It’s a collection our cheery, denim-apron wearing waiter is just busting to talk us through. The dinner menu meanders haphazardly around the globe – and as she points out – “has quite a few strange words on it”. We begin close to home, with the numus starter; a pickled-fish dish commonly eaten in the Pacific and Torres Strait Islands. Billykart’s version is a beautifully fresh, zesty combination of bite-sized pieces of lightly-pickled kingfish, onion slivers, scattered with black and white sesame seeds, coriander and green chilli – the perfect way to begin dinner on a steamy Brissie evening.

It was a tough call between Italy and Greece, but in the end we forego the taramasalata, so genuinely effusive is our waiter in her praise for the white bean puree. Indeed this rather pedestrian-sounding dish turns out to be more than the sum of its parts. The velvety truffled white bean puree comes with a generous smattering of dehydrated olives and is very quickly scooped up with thick, crunchy shards of rosemary-flecked lavosh. Like the numus it is an unpretentious, perfectly balanced combination of complementary flavours.

South America is the next stop on the itinerary and the picanha (Brazilian for rump steak) is the undisputed highlight of the entire trip. Tender, thick churrasco-style slices of smoky, rare rump are served atop burnt onion and kale. It is adorned with a generous dollop of creamy erma mate béarnaise and a sprinkling of farofa.

The latter is a golden-brown toasted salt-spice and cassava flour condiment that is commonly served with Brazilian barbecue. It’s one of those dishes that’ll be hard to pass up on return visits. And we’re already planning our next itinerary.