So much has changed for the better on London’s dining scene over the past few years, nothing more so than the Indian sector. We’ve bid a less-than-fond farewell to flock wallpaper (unless it’s modern, designer, and used on only one wall, of course), generic, inauthentic sauces and surly service. Now, we expect style, sophistication, fusion and art on a plate. It comes at a higher price, of course, but if the astronomical figures demanded by certain Central London Indian restaurants take the shine off your post-modern samosa, Indian Zing is the answer.

The Venue
King Street, which takes you from the centre of Hammersmith to the start of Chiswick, boasts countless restaurants, from the humble and, frankly, undistinguished to several of considerable culinary reputation. You can eat Thai, Italian or Chinese, even African or Polish, but the road is particularly heavy on Indian establishments, so a newcomer must be really special to stand out. Since opening in May 2005, Indian Zing has achieved that feat, winning countless critical plaudits. Its safely modish decor of comfy, brown leather chairs, white walls and dark floorboards is personalised by substantial Indian artefacts and brightly coloured paintings and photographs. Entering takes you by surprise: immediately within the front door is a second door, the intricately carved survivor of a temple house in Madras from several hundred years ago. Although it looks purely decorative, chef-proprietor Manoj Vasaikar claims it eliminates negative energy.

The Atmosphere
The door appears to be doing its job: blissfully air-conditioned on a sweltering summer weeknight, almost all of Zing’s 58 inside seats are taken, whilst other diners enjoy the charming al fresco area with its retractable canopy at the rear. It’s a relaxed, animated, middle-class, middle-aged, smart-but-casual crowd. Many are regulars, if the waiters’ effusive greetings are any guide. Service is attentive, assured and unhurried.

The Food
From a dozen starters, vegetable bhanavla (£4.75) is Zing’s take on the ubiquitous onion bhaji, baked and then griddled, says the menu, in the authentic Maharashtriah way. The flat triangles are crunchy but soft within, not remotely heavy or greasy, and with notes of tamarind and mint. Their mild spicing contrasts with a hot, herby, sweet sauce. It’s a pretty and enjoyable plateful. Even better is mussel rasam (£6), so generous a bowl of plump, juicy molluscs, it would almost do as a main course and would certainly make a sustaining lunch. Its spicy broth of tomato, garlic, onion, coriander and chilli is complex and satisfying, although it ought to be granted two chilli symbols on the menu, signifying very spicy, rather than just one (spicy).

After short menu sections of thalis and biryani come 20 mains. Of the two vegetarian options, tandoori artichoke and paneer with a warm, spicy, roasted vegetable relish (£11.50) almost succeeds. Cooking artichokes this way is unusual and interesting, and works. Onion and pepper chunks survive the tandoor in good order too, but the cheese comes out dry and hard, a major disappointment. It really needs its accompanying sweet, nutty sauce. Karwari fish curry (£9.50) comprises soft, flaky, well-flavoured hake in a round, rich, mildly spicy sauce. Again, the only fault is the menu’s misleading spiciness rating, giving it two chillies when it merits only one. A side dish of smoked aubergine (£5.50) has a great, toffee-like flavour with pronounced smokiness. Whilst they do add texture, whether the addition of sweet corn kernels is an improvement or not is debatable. Pulao rice (£3) and plain naan (£2.50) are exemplary.

Indian restaurateurs have finally cottoned on to the fact that we Brits love a good pud, and Zing offers a dozen options. Those too stuffed to countenance tandoori figs and apple muesli crumble or organic multi-seeded masala bread and butter pudding might opt for a mango, roasted coconut and saffron kulfi (all £5.50). Prettier even than some of the savouries that preceded it, it arrives decked out with silver leaf, mango puree and a scattering of blueberries, and is correctly dense and sticky. Gulab jamun (£4.75) is warm, caramelised milk dumplings with vanilla ice cream. It’s a bit like fragrant bread pudding and receives the ultimate accolade from an Indian diner who proclaims it "as good as my mum’s".

The Drink
There’s a wine list of 14 whites (£14 - £40), 14 reds (£14.50 - £45), six sparklers (£21-£129) and three roses (£16 - £22). Slightly disappointingly these days, there are no half bottles and only two whites and two reds, the cheapest, are offered by the glass (and only a 175ml glass, no larger option), whilst none of the sparkling or rose wines can be enjoyed this way. Amid the old and new world favourites lurk a couple of Indian options, both from the Sula Vineyards in Nashik, not far from Mumbai. The sauvignon blanc (£17.50) is a bit tame but the Shiraz (£18) is gratifyingly big and blousy, bursting with red fruit flavours.

There are four beers (rather predictably, Cobra, Tiger, Budweiser and Stella, all £3.50 for 330ml), spirits, soft drinks and, during summer, a selection of 11 glamorous-sounding, mainly non-alcoholic coolers, like sandalwood lassi, fresh tender coconut water, and watermelon with tulsi seed (all about £5).

The Last Word
This is the age of upmarket, elegant, fused Indian dining, but if the prices at celebrated venues in Westminster, Belgravia and Chelsea (mentioning no names) make you hotter under the collar than a fiery phal, head west. Manoj Vasaikar has brought the skills he honed at some of Mumbai and London’s finest restaurants (he was deputy head chef at Chutney Mary and head chef at Veeraswamy) to Hammersmith and created modern, imaginative, artistically-presented feasts for half the price, with a pleasant ambiance and spot-on service thrown in.

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