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You know who scored Taylor Swift tickets? The same nimble-fingered broadband lords who got a booking at Matsu, a four-seat Japanese restaurant that opened in March.

Bookings for Matsu’s 32 seats a week are released on the first of every month at 10pm. They sell out within 10 minutes. Why bother joining the internet scrum to eat at Melbourne’s smallest restaurant? Isn’t it just dinner? No. Korean-born chef Hansol Lee offers kaiseki, a progression of set courses, served with ceremonial reverence.

The setting is utterly surprising: a doorway on diverse Barkly Street gives onto a narrow staircase; the upstairs dining room is a serene stage for a transporting two-hour adventure that begins with the presentation of a live lobster in a cloud of dry ice, antennae akimbo. You’ll be eating him later.

There are nine courses, all transfixing. Hassun is a tray of dainties, including cloud-like omelette and a magnificent cherry tomato: peeled and marinated in dashi, ponzu and shiso to create a glowing orb that explodes into a galaxy of flavours.

Kaiseki always includes wanmono, a lidded dish. Here it contains an astounding clear soup with a sweet scallop ball balanced by sour plum paste.

Lee believes serving more than four customers would force compromise. You can see why: everything is so careful, subtle and deliberate.

The tuna sushi is a good illustration. Lee uses first-grade tuna belly taken from close to the neck, a richly marbled portion that easily tears when sliced. Having just four pieces to deliver means he can wield his knife extremely slowly.

Each slice is laid over the seasoned rice that is a rigorous project in itself to create one of the most extraordinary morsels I have ever put in my mouth, a racing, bracing, ecstatic amalgam of ocean, earth and heaven.

You watch Lee prepare every dish: he hands it to you, explains it and answers questions. The focus is the meal, not your conversation: if you want a proper catch-up with your fellow diners, grab a drink before or after.

Lee believes serving more than four customers would force compromise. You can see why: everything is so careful, subtle and deliberate.

There’s a great story behind this unique restaurant. Hansol Lee was steered into a teaching career but Korea’s educational hothouse didn’t sit well. He came to Melbourne, a chef friend suggested cooking and Lee found himself sizzling yakitori. One night, a diner took a photo of the skewers he served her and Lee felt something awaken: a sensation that spurred the 10-year journey to opening Matsu.

Applying the same focus he used to learn the martial art kendo, Lee sought a job at venerable city institution Kenzan. He spent years as a dishwasher, then kitchenhand, as he climbed the ranks during a decade-long apprenticeship. Matsu was his next move, a brave, bijou and beautiful ode to the intimate possibilities of hospitality.