Being the kind of diner who likes to be left alone to my dysfunctional family conversations and distractions, to scoff in relative peace wearing comfy scoffing clothes rather than dress-ups, I've been a little reluctant to frequent eightysix.

This Braddon funk house has felt like the place you need to be in party mood to handle, a kind of deep-breath-and-here-we-go place, where interaction is part of the deal and where it's so loud and happy all you can really do is yell and laugh. Which is why I haven't been in a year despite its popularity and appeal.

But it turns out things have changed. Judging by tonight, eightysix has calmed down and settled in, in a very good way. It's still busy and generally packed, people at the bar, along the window, outside and in the smallish dining space. It's still buzzy, with plenty of cool, natural light, concrete colours, the music choice somehow epitomised by Another One Bites the Dust in all its retro glory. But it's not way loud so we can still converse, we're not having booze offered generously and with disconcerting randomness, and we have a sense of relaxation and privacy.

And the food! Well the food has always been good, but it, too, looks to have attained a welcome reliability. Basically, everything (almost) is good tonight, and marked by simplicity, modernity and confidence. The hoisin duck bun ($9) is an expensive little snack, but good in its simplicity – a soft palm sized bun, with a little filing of spicy duck, cucumber and a hot sauce. 

Cobia ($36), a fish appearing on lots of menus, is really  beautifully cooked, translucent in the middle, the flesh flaked and not made dry or heavy as would be so easy with this fish. Underneath is a bed of creamy goat's cheese, on top a bonito and seaweed crumb, and there's fresh crisp rounds of thinly sliced kohlrabi and green apple slices. A very good dish.

Habanero steak tartare with prawn crackers ($25) is full on with heat, too much so in my view. The heat of the hot sauce drowns out most else, except the taste of capers and salt, and certainly gives you no clue you're eating raw meat, so if you struggle with such things you'll find the experience pretty easy here. It looks good and is fresh and proper with its raw egg yolk, just the excessive heat is an issue for us. 

Heirloom carrot tortellini ($34) is a great dish. The pasta is good but more thrillingly the filling is beautiful, dark with its pureed red carrot mix, sweet and rich with good sage leaves. It upends the usual burnt butter sauce by offering a "burnt butter snow", which is a little weird - a pillowy sprinkle of white fluffy stuff that tastes like burnt butter, and I'm not so fond of the ageing effect that all this extra treatment has given the butter. It tastes a bit old, where butter should always taste fresh and light. Other than the butter, the dish is clean, delicate, clean and well-executed.

The wine and drinks list is very good, with plenty of care and interest, although you'll probably find yourself spending some decent money at this end of things. Our Collector Tiger Tiger Tumbarumba Chardonnay 2012, locally made from one of our best and grown in an are emerging as very good for the variety, is highly likeable, fresh and citrusy, but served too cold for our liking and a hefty $20 a glass ($80 a bottle, and yes, it's the most expensive wine by the glass on the list). You'll also find a French pinot by the glass, an Argentinian malbec, and a tempranillo, grenache and albarino from Spain, so they're certainly ticking the boxes and doing it well.

Another strong point is the service, which as we said is not over the top but is helpful, casual and knowledgeable – each of the different staff members we talk to can explain details of the dish. The "cheesecake" ($16) hits the only wrong note for us tonight. Annoyingly deconstructed, it's a bowl of super-creamy rich cheesecake layers, like a kind of cheesecake rice pudding, crumb layers separate, delicately floral, and I feel it misses the point of cheesecake. You kind of feel some dishes have been decades in the making and someone has been through the options many times over to plump for  the version we know and love. It took time to work cheesecake out and to just take it apart and give it to you in bits just seems awry. All filling without structure. 

The caramel popcorn sundae ($16), though, is perfect, an upside down ice-cream in a honeycomb caramel mix with popcorn in a glass bowl, and a veritable triumph of  sticky poppy deliciousness.

We leave eightysix impressed and knowing we will return before long. We would now judge it among the city's handful of best restaurants, the food delivered with a sure hand, thematically consistent, adventurous without being wacky, modern and fresh.