MY FAULT for not properly reading the menu, perhaps.

But the appearance before me of a plate of chicken and chips was not a good start to an Indian meal.

Especially since the chicken – described as tandoori murgh and said to have been marinated in yoghurt and aromatic spices – was far too sweet for my palate.

This was a flabby and ill-conceived dish of a sort that might have been served to undiscerning western diners back in the 1960s.

And, to further disappoint, the poultry had none of that caramelised, dark edge that makes tandoori so appealing.

Here was a hen whose demise was not in a good cause.

However, the chips themselves were pleasant in an oven chip sort of way.

My wife Lynn fared better with a mari murgh, good chunks of chicken cooked in a quite punchy black pepper sauce.

Our son Ewan’s starter of chickpeas, potatoes, onion and cucumber, topped with a tangy chutney, was well received.

Things improved markedly for me when my main course arrived.

Narial ka gosht was a lovely dish – tender and flavoursome lamb cooked in a well-balanced tomato and coconut sauce that was deftly spiced and lifted by fennel seeds.

Ewan, too, chose a lamb curry and, like me, was impressed.

Lynn’s prawn dish – with tamarind and coconut and gently spiced – was eaten with some enthusiasm.

Best of all, I thought, was a bowl of mustard greens that we ordered – the leaves almost a puree, but full of spicy flavour.

We shared a perfectly good naan and some beautifully cooked plain rice. We each finished with a bowl of fruit salad and ice cream – which arrived unsought because, apparently, we’d unwittingly ordered from a set-price menu.

Sanskrit puzzled me because there seems elements of great authenticity about the menu, with many of the dishes uncommon in local curry houses.

Yet the chips and fruit salad seemed the hark back to the bad old days when Indian restaurants seemed almost embarrassed to celebrate true sub-continental cuisine.