Nothing thrills me more than the prospect of a lazy lunch at a great restaurant, one where you’re still savouring that second glass of Armagnac as around you the wait staff start prepping for dinner. I find the production of a vacuum cleaner or glowing lamps deeply satisfying, proof that the afternoon has indeed been whiled away – food savoured and drinks imbibed – as the light outside fades into the promise of dusk.

Our recent lunch at Wasabi, a Japanese restaurant on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast, was a delight in every sense. The setting alone is so uplifting it warrants the two-hour trip from Brisbane in and of itself. The restaurant not only overlooks the picturesque Noosa River but seems to almost float above it; the windows open so directly onto the water that paddle boarders virtually have to steer around them. But what I love most about Wasabi is that it isn’t content to rest on its good looks. Here, in sleepy Noosaville, is one of the finest dining experiences in the state.

When it comes to ordering, there’s really no contest: you simply must choose the Omakase tasting menu. How else are you going to try all those delectable little dishes, ones you would never have thought to order because you could have sworn you didn’t like cured scallop (think again) and you’ve never heard of yuzu (it’s a type of citrus). Really, all you need to concern yourself with is whether to order seven or nine courses. We went for seven – and honestly, they were so judiciously portioned and moreish that next time I’d do nine.

The theory behind every tasting menu worth its seaweed salt is a crescendo from light to rich: flavour-wise, in the heft of the star ingredient/s, and with any luck in the portion size. At Wasabi, this simple equation is elevated into something almost profound – a deeply pleasing overall experience I can only describe as elegant. The entire restaurant punches above its weight in the style stakes, in fact, from the spacious central bar to the stunning gold screens demarcating the tatami seating area. I’m enjoying myself mightily, and I haven’t even downed a glass of champagne yet.

Speaking of which, should you have an affinity for this noble grape, Wasabi’s list will delight and surprise you. We splurge on a bottle of 1995 Louis Roederer Cristal (it’s my mother’s birthday!) and are astonished by its deep golden colour, funky aromas (barnyard and caramel popcorn) yet bright acidity, as if it’s still a baby with longer to age. It has a subtle mousse, few bubbles, and performs an endearing little dance on the palate. My mother assures me that all good ‘95s do.

It’s time for the amuse-bouche. The first is a savoury triumph – a crisp shiso rice cracker topped with petite puddles of shitake puree and a scattering of golden marigold flowers. Alongside it is the seared tuna tataki rolled in nori, lime rind, ginger and toasted sesame seeds. It’s simpler than it sounds and meltingly delicious. Next up is the first course, what is essentially seasoned sushi rice topped with sliced Mooloolaba king prawn and a smattering of yummy bits (miso, daikon, rice crisp). It is pleasant without being breathtaking – though K, who considers a bowl of sushi rice one of life’s great pleasures – enjoys it more than I do.

It’s time for a pause and gaze out at the water. We have the entire restaurant to ourselves (it’s Friday lunch – they book out two sittings at dinner), save for a single intriguing man sitting behind us. His approach to dining alone is so damn languid I can’t help but admire him. I mean, the dude’s wearing a Tommy Hilfiger/Ferrari polo shirt and dipping unhurriedly into an assortment of reading material he’s spread across the table. But most impressively, he’s ordered a bottle of 2007 Cristal to himself, which he rounds out with an Asahi chaser. Bar the shirt, K promises to emulate him if we ever win the lottery.

Our champagne is working its magic, but just in case I’ve ordered five beverage matches to accompany the menu – a combination of natural/orange wine, sake, pear cider, and Pedro Ximénez. I’m one of those people who by and large doesn’t waste their time drinking cider, and whose heart is prone to sink when she reads the word ‘beverage’ rather than ‘wine’ pairing. But in this case, so experimental, so good.

The tempura local spanner crab arrives in its ethereal batter. Though I’m more taken by the next course – black Cobia kingfish cured in ponzu (a citrus-based soy sauce) served with ginger crisps and delicate curls of shallot. The acidic ponzu balances the smooth sweetness of the fish perfectly. It’s so luscious I could eat an entire bowl full. What follows is one of the most mouth-watering vegetable dishes I’ve tasted in recent memory: roasted heirloom baby carrots served with a haunting smoked pumpkin puree. It’s deeply savoury, nourishing and earthy – and quite possibly the dish of the day.

The remainder of the meal is a delicious blur. There’s velvety tuna nigiri three ways, a goose main with scorched plum, and for dessert chocolate sorbet with dried cherry. It’s all very accomplished. The goose is excellent.

The service at Wasabi is largely very good, too. The staff is well versed in the menu, the sommeliers know their stuff (the woman is lovely, the man a trifle up himself), and mostly there’s a sense of effortlessness about the delivery that puts you at ease. It’s only when waiter number four cycles through that I start to wish for a little consistency. We’ve built rapport, after all. Shared a joke.

But it doesn’t matter in the end, because what we’ve just experienced is a meal so wholly wonderful that we waft out into the afternoon with a spring in our step, heartened that a restaurant such as Wasabi exists in this scenic corner of the world.