Turning up to a concert hall to find that Chopin has been substituted for Szymanowski is a bit like turning up to a dinner party to find that the roast beef has been swapped for crème brulée. But for the young Argentinian pianist Ingrid Fliter, Chopin is a serious business. And just moments into her dynamic performance of the Piano Concerto No 2 I had stopped missing the indisposed Piotr Anderszewski (originally down for Szymanowksi's Sinfonia Concertante) and was hooked.

Yes, there was a rich sweetness to Fliter's playing - you cannot have Chopin without sugar, not least in the luscious larghetto - but plenty of fibre and muscle as well. Not for nothing has Fliter been compared to her great compatriot Martha Argerich: there's a similar vitality, an engaging restlessness that imbued some of Chopin's most dreamy sub-plots with enough snappiness and tang to keep us on our toes. Darting off the pleasingly dark-hued, Slavonic tone that Jirí Belohlávek was drawing out of a supple-sounding BBC Symphony Orchestra, Fliter took very little for granted. Only in the final Rondo did she seem to lose her focus, skating a little too recklessly over writing that demanded a more cerebral, loftier approach. But this was an auspicious Barbican debut.

As for the orchestra - well, I've knocked the BBC players enough in recent months for some workmanlike outings. But when the gaffer's in town they can play truly majestically. And so, under Belohlávek's gentle baton, soulful Chopin made way for lacerating Suk, in the Czech composer's Asrael symphony.

Arguably there's a little too much wailing and gnashing in this hour-long grief-ridden work (it was completed after the sudden deaths of Dvorák and his daughter, Suk's wife). And I'm not convinced that its 11th-hour ascent to C-major redemption, which comes courtesy of a splurge of “exotic” chromaticism and some sub-Straussian shimmers, totally satisfies. But along the way there is writing of stunning impact, and Belohlávek ably realised both the blinding fury of Suk's raw emotions as well as the fantastic colours he found to paint them. Whether beef or brulée, there was always plenty to get your teeth into.

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