Kutir, Chelsea

Like most residents of the UK, I used to have a very fixed idea of what an Indian restaurant was. Our nearest curry house growing up occupied a charming old schoolhouse in Formby Village - it's called Hilal Balti House now but chances are in the 80s and 90s it was maybe called Indian Spice or the Taj Mahal or something equally generic. The experience of eating there - well, I'm sure I hardly need to tell you. Paper napkins and floral wallpaper; papadums and chutneys; Korma, Rogan Josh, Vindaloo - the staples of any British high street Indian restaurant, reliable, inexpensive, and in its own way quite wonderful. I'm sure even back in those days there were more exciting mixed grills and Punjabi specials being served to the immigrant communities of Bradford and Burley but for the rest of us, this was a curry, and a curry was this.

Many years after I moved to London I still thought Brick Lane was about as good as it got. I wouldn't have known it's common for many different restaurant fronts to use a shared kitchen at the back, and that some of the Scores on the Doors would be as rare as Michelin stars, but I probably wouldn't have cared even if I did. The same comfort and familiarity of every single Indian (/Bangladeshi/Pakistani) restaurant in the country found an equally captive audience here, amongst the touts and Cash 'n' Carrys of E1.

But before long, my narrow world expanded. Not just thanks to Lahore Kebab House and Tayyabs in Whitechapel, fiercely authentic Pakistani grill houses that I've already banged on about far too much on this blog, but at the top end too, specifically Trishna in Marylebone which opened my eyes as to what fireworks were possible when top ingredients were treated to fiercely intelligent subcontinental cooking. It was literally life-changing food, the kind of thing I didn't even know was possible, and I made a special note of head chef Rohit Ghai in case he popped up anywhere else. And pop up he did. Long story short, Ghai's career since Trishna is basically a list of all my favourite high-end Indian restaurants in London - Gymkhana, Jamavar, Bombay Bustle, and now, Kutir. And there's an argument - a strong argument - that Kutir is perhaps his greatest achievement to date.

At first glance, it's all very Chelsea. The handsome townhouse, the sparkling service, the plush (and nicely spaced) tables. You expect to open the menu and be confronted with the kind of prices that make your mouth go dry but instead - starters average £10-12, mains £16-18, desserts £5-6. It's all incredibly reasonable, and as anyone who's ever eaten there will tell you, Chelsea is not often that.

Another thing that's very un-Chelsea about Kutir is a determination not to reduce the spicing levels. Even a pretty tray of amuses packed a punch - I think a little pastry cylinder of crab and coriander, and neat balls of mushroom croquettes, but don't quote me as they weren't on the menu - a fantastic intro to all that Kutir are about.

Similarly, "Aloo Tikki - Honey Yoghurt' was a fiercely chillified arrangement of potato, tamarind and mint chutney which like all the best Indian vegetarian food was such a riot of texture and colour the lack of a central lump of protein was a complete non-issue.

Lamb chops, vast, plump things cooked to a perfect soft pink inside, used the tandoor sensitively enough to retain moisture but with enough heat to produce a few delightful crunchy spots. The meat was clearly high quality - not overwhelmingly gamey but with a lovely soft, lamb-y profile - but Ghai's tikka spicing is next-level, an utter masterclass in balance and power. Right up there with the very best high-end lamb chops you're ever likely to come across.

"Dhokla - Apple" was another bewilderingly complex, and equally rewarding, vegetarian dish. Gram flour cake - sharp and spicy - was surrounded by various early spring vegetables such as radish and beetroot, and sweetened with honey.

And this, what is fast becoming a Kutir signature dish - (excellent) naan bread topped with shredded roast quail, scrambled egg and real black truffle, an unusual combination of flavours and textures on paper but which we demolished seconds after the first bite. It's notable how Kutir plays with the expectations and demands of the Chelsea audience, with its veggie-friendly options and premium ingredients, while at the same time retaining all of the charm and authenticity of Indian cuisine. It's a tricky balancing act that they've got spot-on.

Sea bass, a nice neat fillet with a good crisp skin, came resting in a tomato and coconut curry so rich and satisfying even if the dish had consisted of nothing but that, it would have still been worth the £16. Also, one of the best things about any Indian Subcontinent restaurant, at any budget, is that leftovers eaten after the event sometimes even better than they did on the day. Kutir are happy to package up anything you can't finish, and I thoroughly recommend you do so if you managed to over-order like we did.

Duck korma suffered only slightly from a rather unappealing dump of sauce on top - strange where everything else had looked so immaculate. However it's a pleasure to report the duck itself was incredible - soft, gently spiced and full of flavour, with a side of pickled swede being the accompaniment we didn't know we wanted but now can hardly imagine duck with anything else.

The final savoury course was jackfruit 'kofta' - marvellously meaty and greaseless - in another knockout curry sauce studded with spinach. Snazzy presentation too, under a pastry arch.

Desserts weren't quite as innovative or notable as the savouries, but we still polished them off. Mango and passionfruit sorbet were packed with fruity flavours and had a perfect smooth texture...

...and yes, chocolate and banana is hardly a staggeringly unique concept but the banana fritters were crunchy and addictive, and the chocolate had a good balance of sugar, cacao and dairy. Which is all you can ask for, really.

Our bill was slightly reduced thanks to a spot of the old blogger privilege, but as you can see even at full price this would have been a £50/head meal, including a bottle of nice Chardonnay, incredible value for this level of food, and in this part of town.

As much as I ever know how I'm going to react any restaurant on the day, I knew for sure I was going to enjoy Kutir. Rohit Ghai's restaurants have never been anything less than superb, each with their own distinct style (and all coming highly recommended, even now) but always offering the kind of thoughtful, studied take on Indian food that so many places attempt but so few get right. But perhaps due to a greater level of control of the menu after a string of high-profile collaborations, or just simply because practice makes perfect, this seems to be the restaurant that reflects most accurately - and most brilliantly - the style and attitude of cooking he's been pointing towards all along. It may come with somewhat less of the practiced elegance of Gymkhana and the like, but what it lacks in polish it makes up in heart, and it's impossible not to be defeated by its charms. So why resist? Book yourself in - you won't regret it.

9/10

I was invited to try Kutir, then liked it so much I went back and paid. All the above happened on my 2nd visit. Sorry for the terrible photos, it's dark in there.