Quilon takes Indian food to a magical, exotic extreme

Indian is the UK's go-to casual comfort food, whether consumed as take-away, at the local curry house, as one of the inevitable options on the classic pub menu or knocked up with a jar of mass-produced sauce at home. It's usually humble, crowd pleasing and relatively cheap. But different types of  Indian chefs have been on the march for the past decade, working to show that food from the sub-continent can be sophisticated, elegant and complex. They've been rewarded: 10 of London's 70 Michelin-starred restaurants now come from an Indian tradition.

My first taste of Michelin-starred Indian ... woefully belated, I confess ... explained why critics have been so excited about this trend. Quilon, tucked into the Taj Hotel in the heart of Westminster, may share some menu items with your local curry house but it's unlikely that you'll recognise the presentation. Or the delicacy and layering of the spices. Most interestingly, Quilon focuses on a single region. In a world where "Indian" has come to mean a highly generic set of dishes, many of which were developed in England for English tastes, there's a specific focus here on Southwest coastal Indian cuisine. Quilon is exotic in a way that regular British Indian restaurants have ceased to be.

Given the regional focus, the logical choice would have been the seafood tasting menu. But we were keen to try as broad a range of flavours as possible so opted for both meat and fish. The fact that this choice is labelled the "non-vegetarian tasting menu" reminds you that this cuisine is culturally vegetarian to start out with. If you want to treat a friend who doesn't eat meat, the options here are vast.

The realisation that you're on a different culinary planet comes early on, with the papadums. (Photo above.) No pile of plate-sized crisps with the ubiquitous spinning server of condiments in silver bowls here. Instead there's a dish of bite-sized papadums of dazzling uniformity. An array of accompaniments goes from a brain-melting bowl of pickled chilis to a comfortingly mild coconut paste. The server arranges everything in spice order, so you can work from mild to hot or stay wherever you like on the journey.

Next came an artful rectangular plate adorned with three little cakes, each with an accompanying swoosh of bright sauce beneath. In the centre, a pale orange crab cake. To one side, vibrant green broccoli. On the other, ruby-rich beetroot. Each flavour was distinct and, like a fine wine, each taste started out as one thing and finished as another. The obvious hit of the crab or the vegetables came first, followed by waves of spice. Warming, but not hot.

The fish course brought one triumph and, surprisingly, the only disappointment of the night.

The lemon sole marinated with Goan spices and herbs was a bit overcooked and lacked any prominent taste. A single jumbo prawn masala carried enough flavour for both, perfectly cooked and dancing an energetic duet with a mix of tomato, onion and mustard. We must have been rolling our eyes with joy, because the server somehow knew to slip us another one on the side of our next course.

But first, a steaming glass of spiced tomato consume. I'm not sure you can call something that highly-flavoured a palate cleanser, but it was a fine set up for what was to come.

The main course was closest, both in presentation and taste, to curry as I already knew it. As many Masterchef contestants have learned to their frustration, it's tough to make stews elegant.

 Here, a dome of lamb biryani sat on an oversized white rectangle of a plate, with three square dishes arranged at the top. A Mondrian canvas of curry. The dishes held mangalorean chicken (a spicy curry to balance the milder lamb); a memorable melange of coconut, snow peas and asparagus shavings; and a thick yogurt dotted with pomegranate seeds and candied fruit (possibly pineapple?) to allow you to balance the heat to your preference. The most mind-blowing part of this course was malabar paratha. It was a flatbread, but as far from the standard curry house nan as your mass-produced white slice is from an artisan croissant. The croissant reference is intentional: paratha dough is beaten to a thin sheet and folded to form layered bread, then cooked on a skillet with pure ghee. The end result is light, both pillowy and flaky, and pulls apart in a spiral. Decadent.

Though Indian friends have assured me that their culinary heritage is obsessed by sweets, the curry houses of England would have you think kulfi and lassi are the only options. Quilon happily sets out to correct this idea.

The chef shifted our taste buds from savoury to sweet with a pre-desert mouthful of a warm jaggery fudge with a tart fruit sauce. You wouldn't want more than a taste of this overwhelming sweetness, but it was a pleasantly bold announcement of the dish to come.

Which was a celebration of all things pistachio.

Presented out of context, I would have called this plate Sicilian. I was delighted. Pistachio cake. Pistachio ice cream. Pistachio praline. Pistachio crumb. With a few small puddles of black sesame fondant to add an umami complement to the gentle green sweetness. I was in heaven. The place from where my Sicilian grandfather, who first taught me the joy of that nut, was no doubt smiling in benediction.

We were stuffed, but couldn't resist a nibble at the chocolate wafers that came out to end the meal. White chocolate infused with cardamom and dark with rose encapsulated the whole experience: familiar tastes elevated with delicate and surprising lashings of flavour.

If this is how they eat on the Southwest coast of India, then Karala just jumped onto my bucket list. By the end of the evening, the food had transported me to a holiday destination of warm breezes and swaying palms, foreign herbs and alluring spices. I almost expected to walk out the door to find the Arabian Sea lapping at a beach of powdery sand. Sadly, the spell was broken as I hit the cold drizzle of early March in London. But it was great while it lasted.

At just over £100 per person for the tasting menu with half a bottle of wine, service included, there's no denying this is a pricey meal. But for a magical evening that transports you body and soul into a luxurious and exotic beach holiday, it's not bad value for money.