Travelling to the far end of the island, regardless of which end that may be, can feel like a mini-adventure sometimes. Particularly for those of us with a warped definition of what “far” means. It also means, when going for a night out there, it needs to be worth your while. Cambridge Beaches’ Sunken Harbour Club makes a compelling case for it.

Let’s get the important recommendation out of the way first: when you go to the Sunken Harbour Club, you absolutely must sit outside on the terrace. It’s windy and cool? Wrap up. It’s raining? Rebook. Even the most grizzled of natives would struggle not to be moved by the ambience here. The tree frogs’ chorus mingles with Caribbean jazz, but it’s the view that counts. And the angle of that view will be unfamiliar to many, offering a fresh perspective on the island's beauty.

As evening gives way to night, as cars and bikes pass to and fro over Watford Bridge, the headlights rising and falling set their own rhythm, somehow making Bermuda feel larger than the sum of its 181 parts.

We started, as one must, with a cocktail. The Sunken Swizzle is the restaurant’s take on the classic, served in a truly impressive tiki mug — big enough to feel that the drink may be bottomless and deep enough to keep losing our straws.

Its twist is an almond note, which adds complexity but requires a love for almonds. El Diabolo, despite the fearsome name, tasted as it looked: pink. It was smooth and drinkable, bursting with ginger but lacking the fiery punch that some of us like.

Not wanting the guests to become immediately soused, our waiter stepped in at this point to offer a selection of delicious and, more importantly, warm-from-the-oven bread rolls. They offered seconds, too. The wait staff are to be commended, striking the right balance between attentive and unobtrusive. We watched one of the team notice that some diners were struggling to read the menu in the dimming light. With quiet efficiency, he relocated a lamp to assist them.

The starters set an intriguing tone. The Bermuda Tomatoes, described as “Candied Bermuda Tomatoes Tarte Tatin” with “Cacio e Pepe Ice Cream and Basil Oil” tickled our interest. When it came out, it was revealed not only as an experimental twist on traditional flavour combinations but a deconstructed one, too — which felt like a bridge too far. The buttery pastry and creamy ice cream were expertly crafted, but were a touch on the sweet side, edging into dessert territory rather than a savoury pastiche.

The White Asparagus With Comté, served with the more traditional green asparagus the night we were there, was a lesson in balance with a satisfying bite. The sauce is creamy and rich, elevated by the standout nutty crunch, although a splash of acidity might have completed it.

Next up, the Mushroom-Crusted Fillet of Beef satisfied a steak craving wonderfully: cooked perfectly to order — medium-rare in this case — thick, juicy, and accompanied by sides that defied expectations. The fried slab of mac and cheese was delightful and the ordinary-looking cherry tomatoes popped with hidden smoky flavour.

Yet the night's standout was the Chef's Fresh Catch — for us, a luscious chunk of local tuna atop Saffron Roasted Shrimp Risotto — easily the best risotto this writer has had in Bermuda. The distinctive saffron was present but not overpowering, with baby shrimp lending it more depth than you would expect from a side.

While technically an appetiser, we ordered a side of the Shrimp & Artichoke Green Salad for something “healthy” to share. It offered an unusual yet satisfying mix of flavours, providing the acidic punch that was lacking in our other dishes. While the shrimp was cooked well, the dressing was a little too oily, leaving a film of neutral oil in its wake.

Dessert took us back into more adventurous territory. The Millionaire Shortbread pleasantly surprised with lemon flavour in its sable biscuit base, playing off the unctuous toffee and chocolate. However, the raspberry coulis detracted from, rather than enhanced, the dish — a case of too much going on.

The Poached Pear, on the other hand, was a dreamy composition of delicately elderflower flavoured pear, Coconut Labneh and Candied Pistachios. Like a fairytale breakfast.

It was hard to rouse ourselves to leave, pleasantly full and bewitched by the play of lights across the water — the long drive home seeming longer than ever. It felt as though we were on holiday, a world away. Which was fitting, we discovered, once the bill came and we realised this mini-escape came at about the same price as a one-night stay at the hotel itself.

Dining at Sunken Harbour Club feels like slipping into a Caribbean fantasy, a holiday for the senses. Even in the cooler months, sitting outside by the water remains tempting. Prepare to pay a premium — akin to a mini-break at Cambridge Beaches. But for those moments of serene indulgence, it feels worth the splurge.

For those looking for a night out that won’t break the bank, I suggest enjoying a couple of cocktails inside alongside Sunken Harbour’s Bar Snacks — which do far more than they say on the tin — in the smugglers’ cove-esque interior.