The Painted Heron

Perhaps the denizens of Chelsea were away when we visited The Painted Heron, floating orf to see mummy in the country or avoiding the masses who'd gathered to say goodbye to the Queen Mum. At any rate, we were alone in a deserted restaurant. Luckily, we're noisy enough to create our own atmosphere and, by the end of a largely fine meal, we reckoned the absent Chelsea-ites were damn lucky to have this elegant modern Indian on their privileged doorsteps.

Both (Indian) chef and (English) owner honed their pared-down style at Docklands' Tabla. Some of the same approach - such as the succinct, mostly English menu descriptions or the studied avoidance of Indian restaurant decorative clichès - is to be found here. My smoked tandoori prawns were massive, suffused with spices and the smokiness of the tandoor; extra smoke had been added by the unusual step of placing the prawns in a sealed dish with a smouldering chunk of charcoal. Delicious. Mackerel, not my favourite fish, responded brilliantly to the tandoori treatment, its strong meat perfectly suited to the robustness of the flavourings. Punchy, startling chutneys - pineapple, radish and tomato - bore whole spices and set the mouth tinglingly aflame. A venison kofta dish featured huge, melting meatballs in a thick, soupy gravy fragrant with ginger and coriander; scallops with pinenuts and saffron was correctly delicate; but a seafood kedgeree - though flavourful and much enhanced by its authentically vinegary Goan sauce - was too gloopy by half.

Rice and breads - mint paratha, garlic naan - were sensational, as was a side dish of peas with cream and fenugreek. Menus change regularly and prices are fair for the location. And go on a Sunday lunchtime - you're bound to get a seat.