Your reviewer likes good conversation almost as much as food. His preference is also to eat later rather than earlier, should circumstance permit. As a result, he and his dining comrade have often been the last guests to leave any restaurant. With things beginning to wind down, the atmosphere in a venue unsurprisingly changes. Experience shows it usually goes one of two ways: either the staff begin to regard you almost like an old friend and perhaps might offer you a complementary drink if you’re very lucky; or, they can’t wait to see the back of you. Quilon fell distinctly into the latter camp.
This was a pity since the venue – which has been open for over a decade – has many merits and could be considered as one of central London’s best kept curry house secrets. It holds a Michelin star but has none of the cachet of other comparable places such as Benares or Gymkhana. This is perhaps because Quilon sits as one of several restaurants located within the Taj Hotel’s London complex, located in the relative culinary no-man’s land of Victoria. Additionally, there’s always something slightly uncomfortable and incongruous about dining in a hotel venue as opposed to a dedicated restaurant. Perhaps it’s a feeling of transience. Maybe it’s the presence of some large family groups, often with children. The combination often implies a distinct lack of atmosphere. If you’re bitterly cynical, maybe staff make less of an effort since a constant stream of visitors trumps the need to butter up potential regulars.
Even on a Saturday night, Quilon felt curiously devoid of buzz. If first impressions count, we saw from the safety of our taxi an unhappy looking couple dressed in shorts rather than for a night out leaving the venue. Not a good sign. Nonetheless, we persisted. On entering, we were given an effusive welcome, but then shown to a table close to the front of the venue and right by a serving area. It seemed a poorly thought through idea, especially since Quilon was not totally full. My dining comrade had spotted some more intimate booths in the heart of the restaurant. To Quilon’s credit, when we asked if we could move, our wish was granted.
More comfortably settled, we could finally peruse the menu. Quilon’s angle is to showcase the cuisine of Kerala. While this is fish-heavy – the region being coastal – there are also many choices for both omnivores and vegetarians. We opted for two tasting menus as a way of best seeing the breadth of the kitchen’s offering. A basket of dainty poppadums with five different accompaniments was a delight both to behold visually and to taste. Along with a glass of champagne (chosen, ostensibly, as an aperitif), this ought to have been a chance for my comrade and I to relax into our evening. Think again. About three-quarters of the way through, the first course from our menus arrived. There was no apology or even suggestion that the dishes could return to the kitchen. A distinct fail in your reviewer’s opinion. More experienced staff would have been able to gauge much better the dynamic. This vignette set the tone for the remainder of the evening. In broad terms, the food delivered amply (I loved my shrimp biryani with halibut curry, while my comrade raved about her pulled jackfruit roast with steamed pathiri), but was offset by indifferent – at best – service.
Better, at least, that the problem is this way around. Quilon could work at its staff training and then step up a marked notch. Other positives included a remarkably comprehensive wine list and a general approach to pricing that stands out as competitive in a difficult current environment. To come full circle, even if we had been offered the chance to linger at the meal’s close, by this stage it was probably too late. There was no more food or wine and the staff looked as if they had been thinking of home for quite some time. We began to as well.