Quilon
8.5/10

Telephone 020-7821 1899

Address 41 Buckingham Gate, London SW1

Open All week, lunch, noon-2.30pm (closed Sat; 12.30 -3.30pm, Sun); dinner, 6-11pm (10.30pm Sun)

If ever a single dish captured to microcosmic perfection the essence of an entire meal, that dish was the Kerala seafood broth at Quilon, the only Indian restaurant to join the ranks of the Michelin-starred this year, as sampled and analysed by my wife. "Don't like the look of it at all," she sniffed as the bowl was set before here. "It's off-puttingly clumping."

"Perfectly nice, but not remotely subtle," she then said as the first mouthful slid down her gullet. "In fact, it's pretty good," she said as she reached halfway. "Still don't think much of the presentation, but mmmm, that was beautiful," she said as she laid the spoon to rest. "Really delicious, and so, so subtle."

Quilon, just like that broth, is what a female friend of ours would know, in a different context on which we needn't dwell here, as "a grower, not a shower". At first glance, it seemed too paltry and insignificant to hint at much pleasure to come, but the longer the meal went on, the more impressive it became, until by the end of lunch we weren't just satisfied but even a little smitten.

The thumping great problem here, which may explain why until now it has nimbly sidestepped the attentions of the national press, is that it has the classic lack of soul of the hotel restaurant (it's attached to 51 Buckingham Gate, part of the Mumbai-based Taj group). With an appealing mural of a mangrove swamp scene (capuchin monkeys, huge banana leaves and so on), fresh flowers, a gentle, pastel colour scheme and showcases of Indian artefacts, they've had a fair go at disguising the fact that this is an adapted conference room. But the stark spotlighting, relentless burr from the air-con unit, oppressively low ceilings and hideous pillars leave such little doubt that even before her soup arrived my wife had emitted a shiver. Dutifully, I asked what ailed her. "It's reminding me of the rooms where I'm told off about my driving," she muttered of her burgeoning career attending police-dictated, penalty points-avoiding anti-speeding courses on the outskirts of Slough and Newbury.

I notice from its website that the Taj group goes in for fancier vehicles than my wife's ancient Volvo, retaining its own private jets and yachts. Given this apparent lack of penury, it should consider knocking down those pillars in the restaurant and spending a couple of million on creating a room worthy of its chef. A talent such as that of Sriram Vishwanathan Aylur, a fine-boned chap who looks more like a professor of neuro-linguistics than a Michelin-ranked cook (even such sweeties as Heston Blumenthal tend to resemble gangland enforcers), deserves a proper setting.

And what an inventive and imaginative talent it is. Concentrating on the less meaty, fish- and vegetable-dominated cuisine of southern India, he has compiled a menu that's richly enticing and surprisingly reasonable - at lunchtime, at least, when it's £20 for three courses. That fish broth infused a fine stock with coriander and coconut cream, and was laden with chunks of lobster, scallops, shrimps and mussels, while my starter of char-grilled Malabar chicken "morsels" marinated in chilli and various spices was again aesthetically poor (a bit KFC crispy strips), and again tasted great.

The main courses were better still, albeit they were trumped in turn by a side dish (ripe chunks of mango in a sauce of such tongue-tingling piquancy and zing that I'd go back for that alone). My Koondapur fish curry floated rectangles of juicy halibut on a thin gravy suffused with coconut, onions, tamarind and plenty of chilli, while my wife's guinea fowl stew elicited a rousing, "Oh my God, they know how to cook here... this is superb, especially the flavour of curry leaves. Just wonderful."

Hot paratha with the meltiness of fresh-from-the-oven croissant was the best I've ever had, and our two vegetable side dishes, chana masala and potato and cauliflower, were immaculate. For dessert, medleys of yogurt and chocolate were less disappointing than puds in even the best subcontinental joints tend to be. The wine list seems gratifyingly averse to the taking of liberties (I drank Indian wine, a sauvignon blanc, for the first time, and it was excellent), while the service was friendly and competent. Having said that, the failure to replace a tablecloth heavily soiled by your critic's monstrous table manners suggests it isn't sharp enough to give it a crack at becoming the first Indian to win a second star (a breakthrough that should already have been made by the magnificent Amaya, my idea of London's best restaurant bar none).

For all that, the engagingly reticent, unswaggery Quilon is all about the vibrancy and delicacy of the food produced by Aylur, a charming guy who lingered by reception for a chat. A brief study of his à la carte dinner menu, in which the same dishes appear at more familiar Michelin prices, highlighted what a great bargain the set lunch is. I cannot recommend it warmly enough.

The bill

Three-course set lunch £20

Kerala seafood broth

Guinea fowl stew

Chana masala

Yogurt medley

Three-course set lunch £20

Malabar chicken

Koondapur fish curry

Potato and cauliflower

Chocolate medley

2 glasses Sauvignon Blanc £12

Subtotal £52

Service @ 12.5% £6.50

Total £58.50