At the end of a menu at 1876 Daniel Dal-Ben, the diner wishes he had entered the restaurant with four items: a firearm and three alarm glasses. Then he could storm into the kitchen and coerce the namesake chef into bottling a good portion of the caprese sugo, the silky but immensely powerful tomato and basil sauce that girdled a guinea fowl-stuffed raviolo. Or a litre of the wagyu ragù that flaunts umami, which you can very well imagine at home as a pasta doping. And the seafood sauce with caviar that accompanied the perfectly cooked skrei so fantastically. Bring it on, but make it snappy! Dal-Ben – who never took the usual tour of high gastronomy, but worked everything out for himself after training in a brewery and a hotel stint – has always cooked remarkably well.