Through a modest entrance off Collins Street is an understated new haunt adding to Hobart’s heaving good food scene.

The beautifully executed Dier Makr plays up broody minimalism and lets its transitional menu and a lovely collection of largely international booze do the talking.

With the last of Saturday’s early evening light fading through a wall of panelled windows, us girls skoosh in to a bar seat which runs the length of the eatery, while the boys pull up a pew opposite at the solid timber table discretely decorated.

Strengthening the argument that printed menus are so passé, is a wall scrawled in chalk indicating the evening’s particulars. We nod in agreeance to all of the above and sample a light French bubbly and drop of natural orange.

Nine courses including sweeties mean you’re always on the edge of your seat wondering how “duck, cherry”, “pork, peach” and “corn, honey” will translate to plate.

Each stage of the menu smacks of hand-picked, fed and crafted goodness and arranged impeccably so as to create a sweet rivalry between your senses.

We could have had seconds of most dishes – all so interesting and highly edible but some on the smaller side. Of course, balance is key, and let us not stuff ourselves silly at the dinner table, but I worry when a pinnacle dish can be devoured in a couple of mouthfuls.

My pick of them all was mussels in cream and carrot in yolk. Sound simple yet successfully complex. In both cases, the hero was supported tremendously by textured, well-seasoned cameos.

This next part really impresses: following orders from our endearing waiter, we enter the adjacent wine cellar to pick a bottle. Each has a swing tag indicating origin and cheeky tasting notes. We pick a Le Fruit Du Hasard and after some time open, washes down a treat. The already very reasonable bottle prices attract a 30% dizzy if you want to kick on and take one with you.

It’s all very grown-up, almost underground, accompanied by a stellar vintage playlist. Owners Kobi Ruzicka and Sarah Fitzsimmons have clearly settled right in and stamped their own since moving from Victoria last year.

Next time I’d be eager to prop at the bar and get up close and personal with the dexterous kitchen display: chef Kobi busies himself with an assortment of tiny pots and pans, each responsible for layering intricate elements on each plate.

I’ll also be visiting the rock star bathroom more than once. It really was cool.