Persia

665 Great Western Road, Glasgow

0141 237 4471

Lunch £5.95-£7.50 Dinner £15- £22

Food rating 7 and a half/10

IT would seem witless to force the cuisines of Europe's diverse countries under one generic "European" label, to package, for instance, the currywurst of Berlin, the coq au vin of Burgundy, the Genovese farinata, and the bigos stew of Poland, in a unitary "regional cuisine" wrapper, but that's exactly what has happened in the UK with "Middle Eastern food".

The title has, until recently, been code for hummus, burgers, ample feta and halloumi cheese, and of course, anything in filo pastry, with falafels thrown in for good measure. Lebanese, Syrian, Turkish, Egyptian, Palestinian, Iraqi, Omani, Kurdish - it has all been one fuzzy, Levantine blur. Then the Israeli chef, Yotam Ottolenghi, upped the learning curve, teasing out the strands of the region's gastronomies and establishing a degree of authenticity by using ingredients such as freekeh, pomegranate molasses, zataar, barberries and date syrup.

As the Middle East continues to ride high in the cookbook charts, Iranian (Persian) cuisine is emerging as a particular region of interest. First it was Arianna Bundy's family recipes in Pomegranate And Roses; now, supper club cook Sabrina Ghayour has been phenomenally successful with Persiana, wherein she aims to show us that "the food, flavours and ingredients of the Middle East are accessible and uncomplicated, and therefore much more achievable than you might have previously believed". This is no idle promise. Following Ghayour's easy recipe I have even managed to make chelo, the celebrated Iranian basmati rice with a buttery crust, or tahdig.

But I'm beginning to wonder if home cooks are outstripping restaurant chefs in the Middle Eastern department. This happened a few years back with Indian cooking - domestic cooks following a Madhur Jaffrey or Rick Stein recipe were cooking up something better than they could find eating out - and then the restaurants caught up a bit. But currently, Middle Eastern eating out in Scotland is in the doldrums. It really needs an Ottolenghi to burst on the scene and force restaurateurs to up their game.

You could approach Persia, the restaurant in Glasgow's west end, as just another place to eat hummus and kebabs, if flasher than most, but there is just enough on the menu to deliver its stated promise of "authentic Persian cuisine". We began with a glass of doogh, the cooling Iranian drink made with yogurt, carbonated water, and dried mint. Unlike Indian lassi, which I adore, but which fills the stomach too much before a meal, clean, refreshing doogh primes the appetite. Then we homed in on anything that seemed distinctively Iranian. First up, khotlet-e-gusht, flat rissoles made from softly ground beef, onion and potatoes, which owed their edibility not only to their pliant, barely adhering texture, but also to their intriguing spicing, probably from advieh, Iran's equivalent of garam masala, a typically subtle but fragrant spice blend of ground rose petals, turmeric, dried lime, saffron, nutmeg and cinnamon.

Iranians know their way around an aubergine as the kashk-e-bademjan proved, a glorious molten mass of roasted aubergine, onions, and mint, with a Catherine wheel of aged dried yogurt on top. Then we bit into warm stuffed vine leaves, not fibrous, briny and vaguely acetic like those you buy in a bag, but silky like cooked spinach, stuffed with a comforting mix of rice and split peas flavoured up with fresh greens herbs.

A corner of the menu at Persia lists "traditional Persian stews". We chose fessenjan, where chicken is cooked in thick brown gravy made from profligate quantities of ground walnuts and pomegranate molasses to exceptionally rich sharp-sweet effect. Ghormeh sabzi brought another highly distinctive presence, a little tender lamb, and rather more kidney beans, cooked with spinach, fresh green herbs, dried fenugreek leaves, and dried limes. Our choice of a plate of dill rice was a mistake: too much personality to partner such big bold flavours, and the rice was overly soft. Saffron rice might have been the better option. And neither the rice nor stews arrived quite hot enough.

For the time being, Persia tastes like the best of a bunch, but there's plenty room for collective improvement.