In Lebanese teta means “grandmother”, and spending time in this sprawling series of rooms feels just like visiting a relative’s home. The furniture is mismatched, the plates floral, the BYO policy liberal and the urge to eat pressing.

The banquet is as easily shared between two as 20, and you’d be silly not to order it (the scale of a la carte options makes choosing a selection an absurd undertaking). Vegetables often star. Smoky wedges of roast eggplant are topped with sweet capsicum salsa.

Gooey halloumi parcels are tangy with pomegranate molasses, and fat filo cigars are stuffed with cinnamon-spiced lamb. A plate of cool green beans is sharpened with enough garlic to take down Dracula. Finish with a scoop of sweet rosewater cream, a square of baklava and the warm glow that comes from a night spent with the fam.

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