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How do you take your poison? I’ll have mine here, at this intimate tapas bar where every detail promotes warm conversation and a belief in the possibility of solving the world’s problems over a glass or two of tempranillo.

We’re in Eltham, a green-wedge suburb towards the end of the Hurstbridge line, 20 kilometres north-east of the city. The bar is tucked off the main street down a muralled alley, giving it an urban edge in the leafy hills.

Inside, it’s all timber, artwork and elegant drop lights, with bar seating and small tables with stools. There’s a cushioned spot near the door for a group – maybe a bookclub where no one’s read the book.

A small, sheltered rear verandah overlooks the train station car park but is somehow still hugely romantic and appealing.

Owner Geo Tapia took over the bar in 2018, bringing lessons learnt from a long career as a chef and business owner. He previously had nearby Mernda’s Two Beans and a Farm, and owned a Latin American restaurant with his Chilean parents in the 1990s. Little Drop of Poison is a distillation of a hospitality ethos: nostalgia, quality, creativity and welcome appear to be bywords.

Most of the food is prepared at the bar on a tiny cooker by chef James Karaoulis. Geo takes care of drinks and comfortable conversation. He’ll happily share that he started with a menu focused on the Spanish Basque country but has now broadened the offering to encompass his Latin heritage.

That means a menu that darts from gildas – the key Basque drinking snack – to Chilean empanadas to Mexican-flavoured cauliflower with chilli- and chocolate-spiked mole (sauce) and back to Basque cheesecake. The food is linked by bold flavours and jaunty cheer.

There’s pride in the cocktails and the small but frequently tweaked Aussie-Euro wine list.

Sangria is mixed to order from Spanish red wine, lemonade and a shot of aromatic vermut, then garnished with orange and green olive to create a fresh, bracing aperitif.

Vermut also makes an appearance with the gilda. Anchovy, pickled pepper and brined green olive are threaded onto toothpicks to create the one-bite symphony. They’re then drizzled with a vermut-and-paprika dressing in a fierce, fine tweak to a classic.

Cheese and jalapeno empanadas are made with a flaky pastry recipe that comes from Geo’s mum, Coty.

Crisp, rolled taquitos are filled with slow-braised beef (this same melty meat is the hero of the soupy birria that stars on Monday and Tuesday taco nights).

Paella is served in dainty bowls: we lucked onto a chicken and chorizo version with mushrooms and garlic aioli.

The food and drink are good but Little Drop of Poison really excels at the feeling. That glow you see as you walk down the alley isn’t just light. It’s heart and soul on the plate and in the glass.