Oudh 1722 is chef Aktar Islam’s first foray into London, following his barnstorming ascent in Birmingham with the likes of Opheem. Brum’s love for Islam is resolutely misty-eyed, while Opheem’s 10-course tasting menu has garnered two Michelin stars. It is the ultimate special-occasion spot within a 100-mile radius, more akin to L’Enclume in vibe than its fellow two Michelin-starred Indian Gymkhana in Mayfair. Islam, however, is not taking this snoozily. Instead, he has taken on a listed Victorian townhouse near Borough Market in south-east London and opened a restaurant that’s pretty solemn in its approach to Awadhi cooking.

A laughably brief catch-up on the tradition: the Nawabi era began in 1722, thus the restaurant’s name. The cuisine was luxurious, and defined by slow, thoughtful cooking, sealed pots, aromatic spice blends and subtle notes. Dead posh, basically. The polar opposite of fast, very spicy, grab-and-go food. 1722’s à la carte menu opens with a lamb shorba, a traditional welcome broth poured over finely chopped lamb tartare. Then spherical servings of gol guppa (you might know them by another moniker, pani puri), filled with sprouting moong shoots and tiny edible flowers, and flooded with jaljeera-spiced cumin water. It feels unregal to shove the entire thing in your mouth, but needs must.

The menu then moves into naashta, or street snacks, in the loosest sense. Expect chaat with white peas, tempered yoghurt and sev. Then there’s gilawat, or melting kebabs, the stuff of Lucknowi legend. Dishes include gulnaar tandoori chicken in smoked tomato and cream. If this all seems overly meaty, note the sabzi section, which features things that will please the veggies: kaddu ki qorma of pumpkin and yoghurt, or gobi mussalam, a whole cauliflower with cashew and poppy seed.

1722 feels like two stories under one higgledy-piggledy roof. There is the ancient one: nihari, say, or ox cheek in bone marrow sauce, and a dish traditionally cooked overnight and eaten at dawn after morning prayers. Then there is the modern one: a kitchen led by George Cooke, previously of Brat and Noble Rot, and a bar upstairs serving mango chutney margaritas and a brandy-based old fashioned made with stone fruit.

The layout is charmingly eccentric. Fancy murals and strategically-hung tapestries cannot mask that this is a very old, listed building that was once used by hatmakers; at another stage in its existence, it was home to the restaurant Lupins. It is set out over many floors, with narrow staircases leading to anterooms and hidden back doors, with a bar in the attic for those Bertha Rochester moments. I rather love this: Oudh 1722 has fitted itself into history and made peace with this old beast, rather than attempting to dominate it.

As you’d expect from Islam’s attempt to charm London, Oudh 1722 is a wholly gorgeous experience: lovely staff, a smooth operation. The food may be labour-intensive and styled with precision, but, thankfully, it’s still ruddy delicious and generously portioned. They aim to stuff you. Perhaps the Awadhi tradition was to incapacitate their enemies via slow-cooked dal Bukhara, in which urad lentils, butter and cream meet in spectacular decadence. Enormous lasooni jhinga (grilled king prawns) come smothered with garlic and flecked with raw mango. The star of the show for me, though, was a mutanjan dam biryani: a mountain of fragrant rice with melting, slow-cooked oxtail and bags of sweet carrot. I left with a doggy-bag of both for my fridge. Finickety food, yes, but you can still treat a relative to a blowout feast. Oudh 1722 may be Michelin-chasing, but it is also resolutely midriff-expanding.

We finished with ras malai, a soft dumpling of fresh cheese soaked in chilled spiced cream, laced with crunchy pistachio and scented with cardamom, as well as a little scoop of nimish, a milk soft-serve with saffron, mango and rose petal. Apparently, that’s one of the oldest desserts in the Awadhi tradition, so it wasn’t just greed to order it; I was learning about history.

Oudh 1722, combining ambition and sincerity with genuinely interesting cooking, will no doubt be one of the restaurant openings of 2026. Try it when you’re faced with the rumoured 4,000-person waiting list at Gymkhana. I missed the Nawabi cooking era by at least 300 years, but thankfully, as a greedy person, there’s a tiny nook near London Bridge where they’ve still got a few stoves blazing.

• Oudh 1722 66 Union Street, London SE1 (no phone). Open Weds-Sat, lunch noon-2.30pm, dinner 5.30-9.30pm, Sun lunch only noon-5pm. From about £40 a head à la carte, plus drinks & service