Chef-Owner Mike Lanham walked away from his three-year-old San Francisco restaurant, Anomoly in June, suffering from memory loss, finger mobility issues, and in short, pure exhaustion. Nobody would have faulted him for leaving behind this grueling profession permanently.

But he never contemplated that. Not when compelled by the nagging feeling that he “had unfinished business.”

So, less than three months later, the one-time competitive cyclist returned with renewed vigor to reopen the lower Pacific Heights space anew. He renamed it Athanor, after the Arabic oven that can maintain uniform temperature over a long span.

In a way, it’s a fitting descriptor for his own newfound approach to running the business, balancing out the highs and lows so that it’s more sustainable in the long run — both financially and mentally.

“It’s still a lot of work, but it’s a lot less stress,” he told me, when he invited me to dine as his guest at the restaurant last week.

He has added more staff in the kitchen, fewer at the front of house, so cooks often deliver the food to the tables. Fridays and Saturdays typically sell out. The rest of the week is slower, so he staffs it accordingly then. He does more private dining than previously, which brings in more revenue. Rather than doing everything himself, he’s also learned to delegate more.

“This is exactly what I want,” said the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone graduate who worked previously at Spruce in San Francisco, Michelin two-starred Commis in Oakland, and Bird Dog in Palo Alto. “This version feels a lot better.”

Lanham still serves a 10-course tasting menu ($175 per person with a 20 percent service fee) that includes one particular unforgettable signature dish from Anomoly, riffs on a few others, a greater use of fermentation, and perhaps an even more stylized approach to cooking and plating.

The food — along with the decor — is like modern art. Dark. Brooding. Sculptural. Dramatic.

Yet there’s warmth, too, as the moment you step inside, you’re greeted with glasses of sparkling wine or non-alcoholic bubbly.

The dining room is moody, all dark charcoal with the contrast of white, with the kitchen on full display like a stage set. Oasis, Depeche Mode and R&B classics play on the sound system.

The snacks arrive, bringing a burst of color and playfulness: a vivid orange carrot tart that tastes so smoky; airy clouds of meringue that have the zing of green tomato; and fuchsia bright frozen popsicles of beet and fontina cheese that are sweet, salty, earthy, and creamy like ice cream.

Then comes the arrival of the “egg,” the holdover from Anomoly. The cheeky dish looks like a cartoon egg served in — what else — an egg cup. The “white” is dashi potato foam and the “yolk” is egg yolk jam. Hidden underneath is crispy puffed rice. It’s light, creamy, full of umami, and never fails to put a smile on your face.

Raw slices of Sonoma Coast yellowtail are finished with a squiggled ribbon of allium emulsion and fermented kohlrabi cream, adding an ever so gentle puckery note to the silky fish.

Prosciutto panna cotta sits at the bottom of an earthenware cup, its top partially concealed by a squid ink tuile crowned with a quenelle of caviar. It’s black on black — like a little black dress leveled up with black velvet gloves. The chilled custard yields effortlessly to your spoon, and delivers the smoky-sweet taste of cured ham. Break the tuile, letting it fall into the custard with the caviar for the perfect spoonful of briny, smoky, and savory, and soft and crisp.

It’s accompanied by a spear of endive holding ramp aioli and tomato water granita. Finish this two-bite morsel, and you’d swear you’d just scarfed down an entire bowl of tomato and Parmesan salad.

Fried golden sunchoke dumplings with sunchoke chips, all with a deep nutty taste, get topped with salmon roe and arranged beside a pool of creamy Champagne-garlic-dill sauce.

While on break, Lanham started experimenting with juicing. One happy accident happened when he juiced a potato, then fried the peels and steeped it all with milk before reducing it. The unexpected taste? Like that of liquid hash browns. It makes for a fine foundation for succulent, barely-poached Ora King salmon, too. Lanham takes the salmon skin, dehydrates and fries it like a shrimp chip, then embellishes it with caviar for a snack-attack extra.

The final savory course is juicy, rich Lot 29 strip loin from Charolais cattle famed for its robust flavor. It’s glazed in smoked beef fat for extra lusciousness, finished with jus, and served with black garlic-accented celeriac cooked for 14 hours leaving it incredibly nutting, and almost tasting like toffee.

Then, comes the first of three desserts. Though, it’s hard to top the first one — a stunning celestial creation all in green. The thinnest green tuile, looking like a ring of Saturn, sits on top of a vortex of basil cream cheese and a thin ring of butter cookie. Green apple juice is poured into the center table-side, creating a dessert as refreshingly herbal as it is beautiful to behold.

That’s followed by sweet potato semifreddo with coffee cremeaux and a miso marshmallow that makes you think of caramel gingerbread.

Then, the return of the “egg” — only this one is creamier and sweeter. It’s cleverly constructed of coconut foam for the “white” and a mango “yolk” plus crispy white chocolate pearls on the bottom.

The final flourishes are pate de fruit made with Asian pears from K&J Orchards.

Lanham says his dishes are not grounded in any specific cuisines necessarily. He’s just doing his own thing. And now, more on his own terms.