Curry to prove the miserable gits wrong

The trouble began two years ago when he penned a hasty editorial in Tandoori, the Asian restaurant industry magazine, in which he criticised standards of presentation and, famously, the service. 'Walk into an Indian restaurant, no matter how posh, and more likely than not you will be "greeted" by a miserable git? Nothing typifies the Indian restaurant experience as much as the surly, miserable waiter.'

The response was instant and furious. He was denounced as a self-publicist and banned from swathes of Indian restaurants. It was when the death threats started that he decided it was time to go.

'I got a letter saying, "There are 18 of us coming down from Newcastle and we know where you live",' he says. 'I had to disappear.'

The story took off in spectacular style. 'My parents were in Bangla-desh and I thought, thank God, at least they won't hear about it. Then my mother rang up and said: "What the hell have you got up to? You're on the TV here. What are you doing?" '

He laughs his tommy-gun laugh.

As a way of catapulting himself into the next phase of his career, it was a PR's dream. Asian restaurateurs' defensiveness and resistance to change spurred him on. 'I would go to restaurants like The Red Fort and Veeraswamy and say, "You could do so much more..." They would say, "Iqbal, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. We have a successful operation here." '

Wahhab was determined to put Asian cuisine on a footing with the best European restaurants. As the voice of the industry, before the 'miserable gits' forced him to resign, he would often say that no Indian restaurant would ever get a Michelin star. 'The Indian dining experience has never been glamorised enough. Asian cuisine is not being valued highly because it doesn't look good.'

His new project, the Cinnamon Club, aims to change all that. Set in the old Westminster Library, next door to the Houses of Parliament, it is a departure from the classic British curry house in more ways than one. In presentation, he has pursued elegance and simplicity. Needless to say, flock wallpaper has been banished. 'Indians designed curry houses on the basis of what they thought the English thought of India: a sort of cross between a mosque and a pub.'

The food itself will defy expectations. For a start, he has hired a French chef, Eric Chavot, formerly of the Capital and the Michelin-starred Interlude, as consultant head chef. Chavot had never been to India, so Wahhab is taking him there to show him the spice markets.

'In Indian cooking, sauces are brought up together as you add spices. In French cooking, sauces are reduced. We are going to be making Indian food the French way. Eric loves the idea of it. It's a great culinary adventure. There is a temptation to get too poncy with this - one restaurant was doing a foie gras samosa. We can do without little frothy cups of soup. When we get away from poppadoms and look at what's on the streets in India, we don't need any fancy amuse-gueules'.

Chavot will be joined by young Indian talent Vivek Singh, currently at the world-famous Rajvilas in Jaipur. The venture could make Singh a star.

At the Cinnamon Club, diners will be given instructions on how to eat the food. 'People don't know how to order Indian food; they order too much and mix everything up? There's more to Indian food than rice curry lager bloat.' An example of a Cinnamon Club dish might be tandoori calves' liver on masala mash, perhaps topped with deep-fried gram flour and onion mix (that's a bhaji to you). As at Wahhab's Docklands restaurant, Tabla, diners will search the menu in vain for old favourites like chicken korma or rogan josh. 'The dishes won't have Indian names. So if someone comes in and goes, "You haven't got chicken korma", I'll say "We've got chicken cooked with cream, garlic and rosewater. What do you think chicken korma is?" '

It's clear that as the Indian restaurant goes upscale, customers are going to have to shape up, too. The 11-pints-of-lager crowd, smashing poppadoms on each others' heads, can go elsewhere. 'If people come in expecting onion bhaji and chicken tikka masala, I'll say, "There's the door, off you go, there's a place round the corner, the Taj Mahal's still open." '

This sort of tone has earned Iqbal Wahhab the soubriquet 'the Gordon Ramsay of Asian cuisine'. What does he think of the comparison? 'You mean an outspoken, cocky bastard!' His laugh ricochets round the room. 'I definitely lose my temper. I think it's important. I want people to know what passion I have for this thing. Even if it means I have to raise my voice and shout and scream to get something done the way I want it done.'

What Iqbal Wahhab wants is for The Cinnamon Club to be a contender for a Michelin star, to be compared with Momo, or The Ivy. Asian cuisine is about to leave the suburban high street far behind.

So he'll be putting an end to the clich? that curry is the British national dish? 'Actually, I made that one up.'

The Cinnamon Club opens late December at The Old Westminster Library, Great Smith Street, SW1 (020 7517 9898)