The servers are also well versed on the menu's intricacies, though their attitudes - downright perturbed and curt one night, warm and helpful the next - were as inconsistent as Byruch's cooking.
Will you get a winner like those deep-fried cubes of gruyere cheese over tomato soup? Or an overthought dud like the deconstructed paella, a squishy coaster of saffron rice topped with chorizo oil and lightly torched raw sea bass cut so thick it was difficult to chew?
Byruch, I have true confidence, is talented enough to settle down, mature and focus. But the roller-coaster plates wouldn't stop before dessert. Pressing brioche bread pudding into a waffle-ironed crisp was a brilliant idea, my new favorite pedestal for a la mode. But he couldn't resist joining the long list of chefs who have done naughty things to creme brulee, this time adding so much lemongrass it was like spooning through soap pudding.