A lovely get together with two travel friends, H and V, led us to Boopshis, off Charlotte Street. I’d heard about this place after seeing details about it on a newsletter, then I saw a piece on it in The Independent, which was all about the history of the owners’ (two brothers, Ed and Ben Robson) grandparents, who used to live in pre-WW2 Vienna.

As a result, the menu is devoted mainly to schnitzel, that delicious, thin, breadcrumbed meat dish which you can totally rev up by ordering it with loads of amazing, carb laden sides. I wrote about Figlmullers last year, and I had high hopes of finding a little slice of Vienna in Bloomsbury.

Right from the moment our drinks came, I knew it was going to be good. H and I both had a Cherry Spritzer, which came in a glass the size of a goldfish bowl, while V sensibly stuck to red wine. Then we had to decide on how to have our schnitzels. Traditional, made with veal? Or with chicken or pork? In the end, we all pretty much went for the same thing; pork schnitzel with a fried egg and capers on top.

We decided to share four sides: spatzle and cheese (with extra speck and mushrooms), potato salad, sauerkraut and frites. We were not disappointed. The schnitzels sprawled over their plates, and were thin, crispy and delicate. The addition of the egg and capers gave them a bit more interest, but as far as I was concerned, I was already back on Backerstrasse. It only lacked someone in lederhosen playing an accordion.

The sides were to die for; the spatzle was a mouthwatering pasta and dumpling hybrid, smothered in cheese and pure, coronary-inducing carb; the potato salad was seasoned with dill, and the chips disappeared so quickly I barely got to taste them. But the sauerkraut was a revelation; very light, not over-vinegared, and I can taste black peppercorns, juniper and caraway seeds.

We forgot to order a sausage (they do a couple of varieties) but it was probably just as well. That way, we had room to try their apple strudel and take on Sachertorte. The strudel was again delicious, with paper thin filo pastry and hearty, cinnamon and raisin studded apple, but the Sachertorte was the only thing that didn’t ring quite as true – I could barely taste any apricot jam, and the top was covered in icing sugar. Still, the rest of the meal was pretty faultless all round, and the bill came to around £35 per head; not bad for the amount we’d eaten.

The only slightly odd note was the décor; I’d been expecting heavy wood paneling but it’s a very bright, light and airy room. There is also a basement though I didn’t peek in. On a Thursday night it was buzzy and busy, with several large tables. It just needs to turn the basement into a proper bierkeller then we need never visit Austria again.  (Though I still will, because it’s awesome).