The understated dining room in Chippendale’s backstreets with its rough-hewn concrete walls and warm lighting befits chef Mat Lindsay’s understated menu, which sees seasonal ingredients prepared with the liberal use of a woodfired oven.

A concise but creative wine list favours the organic and biodynamic, with a rotation of European and homegrown wines by the glass. The scent of cloves announces the arrival of potato scallops with an intoxicating spice rub that hints at cumin, curry and cardamom. The waiter stays tight-lipped about the “eleven secret herbs and spices” flavouring roasted oysters, swimming in a slurpable chicken jus. Gossamer cured beef comes heaped atop fried dough, showered liberally with grated fresh horseradish. Snapper is roasted whole to lock in moisture then de-boned, doused in bonito butter and topped with a dollop of ginger and shallot.

To finish, an unadorned quenelle of feijoa sorbet floats in a pool of Calvados – dessert and digestif in one. It’s a fittingly subtle ending for an experience that awes without arrogance. This is one cult you can sign us up to.

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