The Cinnamon Club had completely flown under the radar for me. It is in a pocket of London I rarely visit, and even if I did, the building’s exterior gives little indication of what’s inside. But now that I’ve discovered it, I already have plans to return with my husband - and in my mind, a list of friends I would recommend it to.

The Cinnamon Club is the sort of place that exudes quiet confidence. Housed in a stunning building – the Old Westminster Library, a short walk from either Westminster or St James Station. Our visit comes on a gloriously sunny Saturday of which we have had so few. It feels like a big ask to be heading inside but we feel rather impressed immediately upon entering the grand room lined with an abundance of books on mirrored shelves around the room. It is one of those grand civic spaces designed to make you feel both welcome and slightly inadequate—it trades in dark wood, towering mirror backed bookshelves, and the sense that serious things have happened here. Important things. It’s the kind of dining room where you half expect someone to be editing a manifesto over their starters. We soon discover the room has two large skylights and the ambiance is light and airy and is very much a room where one could spend a long leisurely afternoon.

We arrive slightly before the Jazz duo begins to the sound of silence, the type you would expect in a library not a restaurant but we needn’t have worried, Jazz begins shortly after as the room slowly fills up with the light buzz of a busy restaurant. It is a wonderfully mixed crowd of no particular “type”. There were couples, a multi-generational table of women, a group of 30 - 35-year-old men coming for a sophisticated slap up with the beers coming in fast and furious as well as a couple of birthdays discreetly celebrated over lunch. By that I mean the restaurant does not burst into song, the waiter simply arrives with a candle on the dessert and the Jazz Duo plays an instrumental Happy Birthday, and the birthday person may get a subtle greeting from their neighbouring table. A classy understated way to celebrate.

We were presented with a brunch menu from which we chose three courses from a choice of five starters, six mains, three desserts and a cheese course. Our charming server steered us to some excellent dishes.

Chef Vivek Singh has been at this for over two decades now, which is fully reflected in every dish we had. The overriding impression is that he is a chef that has nailed the art of making modern Indian food feel both utterly refined, yet indulgent and down to earth. What I like most is, despite being considered fine dining, it did not feel overwhelmingly complicated and what stood out most is his skill in balancing flavours and spice. Sometimes the slow cooking that happens in Indian cuisine brings out flavour but lacks a freshness but not here. The freshness and vibrancy of the spices in his cooking shines throughout and comes with a side order of elegance. Beautifully plated but not in a fiddly way. Every dish was a joy.

We were welcomed with a wonderful basket of Indian breads served with a trio of spreads: Gooseberry, green pea and hot garlic and chilli. A dainty and scrumptious amuse bouche-lands on the table - a bite size skewered lentil dumpling with curried yoghurt and tamarind.

My dining partner began with the okra stuffed with peanut and jaggery, its sticky sweetness tempered by curried yoghurt and a fierce little chilli coconut chutney. Okra is historically known as Gordon Ramsey’s least favourite vegetable. Perhaps he hasn’t tried it here! I had the roasted Romano pepper filled with fenugreek, raisin, and bitter gourd—an unexpected combination that works far better than it has any right to, especially when dragged through its accompanying coriander chutney. Both dishes presented themselves beautifully on their subtly coloured plates.

Then comes the Rajasthani-style curried venison mince, the sort of dish that makes you wonder why we don’t put fried eggs on everything. It was topped with a sprinkling of chives, fennel seeds and chilli flakes and accompanied with a vibrant green coriander chutney. It is the kind of dish I really appreciate – elevated street food. The crisp golden paratha sits below and on top of the venison mince like a well-behaved mille-feuille. Across the table, the Shahi Paneer is a riot of colour and flavour: smoky tandoori paneer tikka, soft spinach malai kofta, and a sauce that somehow manages to be both korma-rich and packed with the deep, iron tang of spinach and garlic. It’s the kind of thing that makes you want to put down your fork, take a breath, and go in for round two.

Desserts arrive and the crème brûlée has a hint of cardamon and is topped with a sesame crisp that shatters perfectly. Indian desserts are not to everyone’s taste as they can be soaked in syrup and with textures the western palate is not used to.  But we venture on to taste the coconut phirni—the texture was not to my dining partners liking so I dipped in and had a taste. It was fragrant and flavours were delicate and helped by the pineapple murabba and a lime basil sorbet was a perfect addition to round out the overall taste of the dish.

The Cinnamon Club isn’t interested in being trendy. It doesn’t need to be. It just delivers, time and time again, with the sort of assured swagger that only comes from years of doing things properly. Throw in excellent service, the soft hum of jazz, and a room that practically insists you order another cocktail, and you’ve got yourself a brunch worth lingering over. Which is exactly what I suggest you do.

Location: The Cinnamon Club, The Old Westminster Library, Great Smith Street London SW1P 3 BU.  Price: £45pp.Time:  Every Saturdays from 12pm - 2.30pm. Instagram: @thecinnamoncollection  Website:cinnamonclub.com

Review by Natascha Milsom