Best for Fine Dining

Alto Vino sits high enough that the Whitefield traffic turns into a hum you stop noticing by the second course. Tables are spaced far apart, the lighting is low without being theatrical, and a server topped up water four times without ever interrupting a sentence. It is quiet in the way a hotel restaurant is quiet — capable, a little impersonal, and priced as though the view is part of the order.

Chianti is a converted bungalow, and it hasn't tried to hide it — you eat in what used to be somebody's living room, with a verandah section that fills first for a reason. The best thing here is the floor staff. Our server talked us out of a second starter because he thought the portions would be too much, which cost the restaurant money and bought it a return visit. Wine is poured properly. Bread is refilled without asking.

Toscano runs on a mall floor and still manages to feel like a room rather than an outlet — soft banquettes, a wall of wine bottles, and tables large enough for a family of six, which is what most of them were holding on the Sunday we went. Highchairs appeared without being requested. The kitchen is steady rather than ambitious, and the pricing assumes you're here for the occasion as much as the food.