After the spectacular start of that flash-frozen pine popcorn – a mixture of sweetcorn purée and pine gel whipped by a siphon gun into the liquid nitrogen – we watched Egon prepare a more traditional Italian dish, risotto. But this one was flavoured with more of that pine, and a spray of what he described as ‘bacon essence’. He spooned out portions onto a plate for us to taste: the flavours were deep and unmistakeable. We moved on to pasta, and the local speciality known as Schlutzkrapfen – tiny ravioli traditionally filled with spinach and ricotta. These were raised to another level with wild garlic and nettles, and the pasta was rolled impossibly thin. ‘This is about the filling,’ Egon told us. ‘I just want you to taste the greens – there is just a hint of ricotta and the most delicate pasta, just to hold it together.’ Somewhat clumsily, we helped to pipe out the filling and gently pinch together the half-moon shapes. After a couple of minutes in boiling water and a drizzle of brown butter, we tucked in. Utterly delicious.

Next, a master class in cooking the perfect egg. From the box we’d picked up at the farm, chef Egon carefully weighed a couple of hen eggs so he could calculate the exact cooking time. ‘Five minutes, ten seconds,’ he said, setting a timer. In another pan, he blended a deep green spinach cream sauce. When the timer went off he carefully peeled the egg – no easy task with such a soft boil – before breadcrumbing it and deep-frying for exactly forty seconds. The yolk spilled out perfectly as we tucked in, merging with a sauce in a glorious richness that was cut through by the crunch of the fried crumb.

We were put to work again, carefully peeling asparagus, double-podding peas and plucking garlic flowers and tiny salad leaves with tweezers while Egon took out a piece of sous vide beef and briefly seared it in a pan. A fried quail’s egg was cut into a perfect circle, then dressed with a dash of olive oil and some parmesan crumb. The perfect spring salad.

After all of this there was dessert. On the worktop sat a large tray of apple strudel, looking hearty and rustic. But we weren’t about to be offered a slice with whipped cream. Instead, a young sous chef pressed out tiny transparent packets made from edible potato starch, containing a few nuggets of what looked like granola. These were then presented to us inside a hollow wooden apple, and we were told to put them in our mouths and let them dissolve. Somehow they tasted exactly like apple strudel. Amazing.

By now the kitchen was getting busy as sous chefs and commis began prepping for dinner, but chef Heiss looked like he was enjoying himself as he whipped up a batch of Kaiserschmarrn – a traditional Austrian-style pancake that comes ripped up into pieces, studded with dried fruit or compote. This was unlike any other version of the dish you’ll come across elsewhere, and Egon told us his recipe came about by mistake. ‘I had to cook hundreds of portions for brunch and I’d run out of space in the oven,’ he says, ‘so I put it under the salamander grill. It came out beautifully, like a soufflé, so now I always make it this way.’ He whisked egg whites, folded them into sweet batter with vanilla and orange zest, added a handful of raisins and some flaked almonds then placed the whole pan under the salamander. Finally, he finished off the light, fluffy clouds of pancake in a pan of caramel, for a crunchy finish, and served them in a huge wooden bowl with fresh strawberries.

We were still not finished. In an homage to the goat, sheep and cow’s milk for which this region is also famous, there was a dessert named ‘Flavours of milk’. It was a thing of sheer beauty – a carnival of red and white and cream, dancing across the plate. Cubes of brulée cheesecake, spheres of panna cotta filled with raspberry, a milk sorbet, a paper thin cannoli filled with a vanilla cream, dots of milk and raspberry gels. A triumph.

Reluctantly, it was time to leave, and in the car, I stole a look at the Kaiserschmarrn recipe in the folder Egon had given us. Would I really be able to recreate that Michelin-starred dessert myself? The recipe, alas, was simply a list of the ingredients. No method or cooking instructions. If you want to experience the real thing, you’ll have to go to Bad Schörgau to try it. Chef Heiss isn’t giving away his best kept secrets just yet. But book one of his cooking lessons, and you’ll gain an unforgettable insight into what it takes to keep him at the very top of his game.