It's slightly infuriating how close to absolute excellence this place is, and how unnecessarily it lets itself down in some areas.

Decor is excellent inside but utterly spartan outside; blankets are a nice touch, but the absence of meaningful lighting meant by 8pm I couldn't see what I was eating. I also felt like the only patron under 50, which was a bit depressing. Service was very friendly and enterprising, but then failed to bring any cutlery for the main dish; after asking for it, I was eventually handed a bog-standard blunt knife, which made it pretty hard to cut the (overcooked) rump steak. Food was almost schizophrenic. A starter of bacon-wrapped goat cheese with sweet jams was THE BOMB, absolute top quality that I'd happily gobble down every day of the week. But just when I was ready to start a campaign for a Michelin star, on came the main; and it was such a disappointment. The steak was hard and overcooked; the remarkably well-prepared veggie sides were all over the place in terms of taste, and it was a shame that they just couldn't succeed on their own. In despair I gave desserts a chance - and I'm glad I did, because the iced kaiserschmarrn was lovely, soft and sweet and boozy, surrounded by fabulous sour cherries and various other berries. I considered licking the plate clean, like a starving dog, but the chance of a heart attack was already pretty high for most patrons and I didn't want to push it up any further.

The bill came in under 60 euros, which I was more than happy to pay - three large quality dishes and a very generous glass of quality Merlot, in a metro capital, can often command much more than that. Paying by card, I wasn't even given a chance to tip - which I would gladly have done, if anything for staff friendliness (never guaranteed, in Europe). I left in a bittersweet mood, thankful but also frustrated by having flown so close to Paradise.