Just as the Indian food scene in Manhattan seemed to be going precisely nowhere, bogged down by phoned-in curries and soggy naan, a newcomer arrived and reminded us once again how good this cuisine can be when it’s prepared with care. What is surprising is that Saravanaas has managed to do this not by reinventing South Indian cooking with displays of radical, fusion-inspired flair, but rather by concentrating its energies on making very traditional dishes to a very high standard. This ethos is one that comes directly from the Hotel Saravan Bhavan, the parent restaurant (and now company) that gave birth to this and a dozen other similar restaurants around the world. The philosophy that quality trumps all is one that works very well when applied to any cuisine, but is one that pays massive dividends here.

Our visit to Saravanaas also marks our first meal with fellow food-blogger Salli Vates, whose work brings her to this neighborhood quite a bit. After plans to eat a huge vegan meal with our mutual friend Pisces collapsed, Salli offered Saravanaas as an alternate choice, telling us that she had been there several times in the past few weeks. Now, we’re not stupid. We know that if Salli Vates tells you that she’s eaten at a restaurant even more than once recently, you should cancel that evening’s plans and head directly to the place. And so we did.

Our group started with a few vada–which are lentil fritters that look and taste quite a bit like cumin, curry, and onion hush puppies– and idli–fluffy white discs of rice and lentils that absorb the taste of everything covering them. In this case, the topping options were a coconut chutney, a mint and cilantro chutney, and a very mild sambar. Idli also made another appearance in the mini tiffin thali I ordered. This time, they arrived in miniature, floating lazily in a little lake of sambar. I preferred them in their larger form, to be honest, but the tiny discs were still very good and reminded me of flattened little matzoh balls. The rest of the mini tiffin was similarly excellent, especially the bright orange ’sweetmeat’ dessert that tasted of cardamom, honey, and a little rose water.

HungryMan was disappointed that his onion rava masala dosa was not of the species that arrives at the table in a form about the size and shape of a fully-grown man’s shirt sleeve. Instead, his was of the folded, triangular variety, and despite his disappointment at its lack of pageantry, he adored it. So, too, did Salli love her mini meal, another combination platter that featured a crispy papadum, three kinds of rice, and spicy Indian pickles. I tasted two of the three rice dishes and think that I might have to switch my thali choices on our next visit. The rice dishes gave me conclusive proof of something that I had begun to suspect: Saravanaas excels at its use of more subtle spices such as fenugreek, which appears in several dishes; in fact, it is actually discernable as a flavor– something I have only ever experienced at one other South Indian restaurant (more on that in a bit).

Our other dinner companion was a recent law school graduate, out enjoying his last few nights of freedom before joining Mr. Scrooge in his drafty counting-house. Perhaps sensing that this was his last chance for a little excitement, he ordered the onion and chili utthappam, which was a gorgeous, 9-inch patty, studded with red onions and crisped bits of lentil. It was really divine stuff– easily the best dish of the evening, and maybe also a fitting send-off for the soon-to-be shackled lawyer; memories of that utthappam should tide him over with memories of the outside world for a few months, at least. Heck, even I still think about it.

We finished our meal with a trio of desserts: the payasam of the day, the gulab jamun, and the badam halwa. My favorite was the daily special payasam, which on our visit was a very loose pudding of fine vermicelli, cashews, currants, cardamom, rose water, orange zest, and milk. It’s the sort of dessert that relies heavily on the chef’s sense of flavor balance, as too much of any of the ingredients could produce disaster. But not at Saravanaas, where attention to that kind of detail seems to be integrated into everything they prepare.

And it should also be said that we’re not easy to please when it comes to South Indian food, having cut our teeth on the mysore and pullavs at Udupi Palace, another group of vegetarian restaurants. Actually, in quite a few ways, Saravanaas and Udupi Palace seem to be twins, or at least kindred spirits. We have been searching for an Udupi-replacement since coming to New York, and I’m very pleased to say that I am certain we’ve found it at Saravanaas. The décor of the restaurant might be more Ikea than India, but the cooking is pretty extraordinary. I do hold out some hope that the local branch will expand its range of offerings to include some of the ‘Tongue Ticklers’ (hot and spicy appetizers) featured on the menus of some of the foreign locations, but this is a very minor complaint. There is plenty on the menu at Saravanaas to keep my tongue tickled in the meantime.

Saravanaas, 81 Lexington Avenue (on the corner of 26th Street), 212-679-0204