Eight years of woodsmoke and ambition at Nomadic Dinners, marked with a menu that reads like a highlight reel courtesy of last year’s MasterChef class, no less.

There’s a particular kind of skill required to cook outdoors, at scale, over coals, for people who’ve paid good money and expect no excuses.

Gareth Baty didn’t blink. His coal-oil venison tartare arrived with gherkin ketchup doing its sharp little dance against the richness, before a black garlic-glazed ox heart skewer proved that offal, handled with confidence, needs no apology – just ancient grains and a Thai broth clever enough to tie continents together on one plate.

Mario Perez went for smoke and salt: torched eel with horseradish sour cream and pickled grapes, the kind of canapé that makes you forget your hands are cold. His monkfish course, charred sweetcorn ragu and confit tomatoes under a crackle of panko, was the sort of thing you’d happily order twice and regret only slightly.

Luke Emmes kept it honest – new season potato, hot-smoked sea trout, a squeeze of chive – proof that restraint is its own flex when everyone else is reaching for the blowtorch.

Mark O’Brien’s chicharrón Caesar had the good sense to be slightly ridiculous, and their joint pork loin course, all bacon glaze and charred pepper, tasted like a argument two chefs had won together.

And Caroline Kerber closed it out with fire-roasted beetroot and goat’s curd before landing a peach so soy-caramelled and smoke-labneh’d it bordered on unfair.

All of this under 87 acres of Chiltern woodland. Long tables, low light, the kind of setting that makes you forget why you chose to live in the city.

Eight years in, and the food still shows up. So does the wine, mercifully.

If you weren’t there – you had one job, and you missed it. Follow along so it doesn’t happen again.