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With daylight savings well upon us, there’s an urge to dine outside and soak up the extra sunlight. But the dark pleasures of dining underground remain timeless.

It’s that stepping down and down, away from the world as we know it; the texture of fine linen on the table; the moody glow of brass table lamps against green-leathered circular booths; and the kapow of a tiny white cocktail onion speared on a metal cocktail skewer.

I’ve missed this sort of dining, and I’m not the only one. It’s Tuesday evening at The Cut, the booths are full and the cocktail bar is busy being shaken and stirred. There’s a comfortable hum across the subterranean room, punctuated by “wows” that happen when the prime rib trolley glides to a halt.

Because we’re all here for the prime rib, and they know it. The monolithic upper rib of grass-fed Angus lies under a silver hood; cooked for 12 hours at 62 degrees then seared to a handsome, burnished crust. Expertly cut into a single 300g ($85) or 450g ($105) slice, it’s juicy, beefy and tender; uniformly crimson without any residual bloodiness. The whole thing turns eating beef into an occasion.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. If you’re made of money, start with The Cut Gibson ($35), made with Never Never Oyster Shell gin and served so cold, it’s almost oily. On the same silver tray, a fat, briny Merimbula oyster spiked with vermouth mignonette and finger lime ambushes not just the mouth but for a moment the brain as well.

It’s good to see The Cut come alive again, having been closed for four years. Part of the same restaurant group as Rockpool, Sake and Spice Temple, it has a triumvirate of top executive chefs overseeing the menu; namely Santiago Aristizabal, Shimpei Hatanaka, and Andy Evans; with head chef Johnny Murphy on-boarded from Rockpool Bar & Grill Melbourne.

The same element of nostalgia seen in the interior – discreet wood-panelled walls and framed vintage photos of famous butchers around the world – is also evident in the menu.

Pigs in a blanket ($12 for two) are plump, juicy, house-made pork sausages swaddled in rich pastry and served with a pond of very excellent ale mustard, pungently spiced with nutmeg, turmeric and allspice and finished with Malfroy’s Gold Wild Honey and chardonnay vinegar.

Springtime specials include Tasmanian white asparagus with Eastern Rock lobster ($49) and new-season baby globe artichokes, nutty and tender, topped with Don Bocarte anchovies and chunky croutons ($32).

With only two steaks offered from the Argentinian-style wood-fired open grill – Angus grass-fed fillet and Altair wagyu grass-fed rib-eye – it’s all about that prime rib. A full-on, savoury red wine sauce with a glossy car showroom finish is poured around, and a whippy, fresh horseradish cream is offered.

Head sommelier Corrado Feria is worth a consult if going by the glass – his suggestion of the 2017 Yalumba Shiraz ($29) made for Rockpool Bar & Grill, hits the spot.

Another intriguing main is the Altair wagyu oxtail ($52), the whole tail braised in bourbon, the meat pulled off and re-formed. The two rounds of rich, nubbly meat are grilled and served with a sauce of bourbon, house-made garum (fermented sauce), and maple syrup. There’s diced bone marrow in there as well, the thinking obviously being that there’s little that can’t be improved by diced bone marrow.

Except, perhaps, for the coconut bombe Alaska ($19); a ball of toasty fright-wig meringue clasping a core of coconut sorbet, moated with diced pineapple to make an edible pina colada.

Last week, ownership of The Cut and the broader Rockpool group changed hands from Quadrant Private Equity to Metrics Credit Partners, but the team insists everything is “business as usual.” I disagree. This is such a fun reinvention of Sydney’s bourbon and beefsteak era that I expect it to do far more business than usual.