It’s a glorious riot of Indian loveliness, with sumptuous embroidered fabrics, rich textile art and contemporary Indian style. The staff are simply delightful.
Breakfast was in the vast Baluchi restaurant in the hotel, originally the grand vaulted hall of a grammar school.
Feeling brave, I abandoned my usual toast and oatmeal, and ordered the Indian breakfast (although I was a little dubious about spiciness first thing in the morning as the pale, wilting northern flower that I am).
The resulting giant dosa, filled with gently spiced potatoes and served with masala and Indian scrambled eggs was a revelation.
Crispy and feather light, with a rich and filling potato interior, any concerns I may have had about eating curry for breakfast were soon dispelled.
I need to wear my big girl pants and be brave with my breakfast choices more often.