Behest

Behesht means 'heaven', and to pining Iranian expats that's exactly what this first-rate restaurant is. To others, its gaudy oriental interior is more Disney than Darius. The four main rooms are bedecked with so many cultural trinkets that it's like dining in Tehran's central bazaar. Shelves groan with daf drums, carpet-weaving machines and hand-painted pots stuffed with peacock feathers; the ceiling is covered with Persian rugs; and the sculpted wooden walls converge on a stone fountain knotted with plastic plants, its constant babble blending with the mournful violin music on the stereo and the caw of the restaurant's pet parrot.

Service forsakes pleasantries for unsmiling efficiency, but the food is as authentic as any in London. A starter of ash-e reshteh (noodle and bean soup) arrived packed with ingredients and was lent a pleasing pungency by a generous dollop of whey, while both minced lamb koobideh and marinated chicken joojeh kebabs were flavourful and flawlessly cooked, served with saffron-tinted rice and a nicely blackened tomato. Save room for traditional bastani ice-cream, flavoured with rose water, studded with pistachios and presented in a dramatic metal bowl.