D'oh: I didn't mean to come into this restaurant but I'm so glad I did

One of the great pleasures or great penances of being a fat food critic is that I never, ever, eat at the same restaurant twice. A line I occasionally employ to nudge back to sleep people who are daft enough to ask me about this job and a line I remember writing some years ago as I settle smugly this evening back into my bench seat at Ranjit’s Kitchen.

Which is roughly the point where I realise: uh-oh, no this is actually the third time I have been here in the last decade or so. Dang.

Last visit, cue quick keyword search, ah 2017. Oh well, as they say in the movies, at least I have a defence. And it’s this: I had no intention of coming in here when I set out to walk home earlier (January step count intentions) and it’s only as I trudged through this dark, narrow tenement funnel on Pollokshaws Road that I spotted lights blazing through the big picture window and realised it’s almost completely empty.

Shut? For the season? For the month? Redecoration?

I cross, I nosey on up, I look, there’s definitely life through the actual kitchen hatch. I enter, I pause, I tentatively ask the dude behind the counter: er, just open for takeaways tonight?

Ranjit's Kitchen is a vegetarian restaurant (Image: Colin Mearns) No, man, or something like that comes the benign reply, “take a seat”. And with that I realise I have the whole damn place to myself. Apart from another dude sitting in the corner whom it will later be revealed also works here, I think. Sheesh. Complete luxury.

Now, I understand you may not use the clogged artery that is Pollokshaws Road on Glasgow’s south side on a daily basis. I do. I pass this place like a metronome. It’s always, and I mean always, jam-packed full. But then January is the cruellest month, for restaurants, as that TS Elliot should have said. And therefore we the great eating public can get in pretty much everywhere.

Ranjit’s then? Atmosphere? Kind of strangely, and I remember the service being different in the past, nobody will really say anything to me throughout my whole meal apart from the basic food-is-incoming chat. I have no problem with that. The glory of a lone meal.

Outside, the world is spinning madly off its axis while in here I’m catching snatches of banter between the ladies through the hatch and the guys outside the hatch (they may be delivery drivers).

“No, no, just a half pakora for me,” one of them is saying. To returning customers. “Hi Robert, today’s sabji is pea and paneer,”’ and otherwise crunching myself languidly through, and in no particular order, my surprise tea.

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Firstly? My own serving of pakora: cauliflower, spinach, onion, potato and plenty popping spices; very crisp, extremely light, cooked right through and very hard to put aside in favour of say these aloo tikka. But then they are smashed, mashed, spiced potatoes, breaded and crisped and served with a simple but tangy mound of chana or chickpeas with a sweet sauce, tamarind chutney and mint yoghurt. So dip, crunch, chill for a mo, repeat, oh just one more pakora, and another, oh maybe change it up a bit with one of those paneer rolls.

Filo pastry fingers of cheese and onion, still steaming hot from the fryer, studded with black pepper. And all the time I have been not so much avoiding, more circling, the only dish which isn’t a kiss-me-quick crowd pleaser. But is instead a dark pot of curryish-looking things containing mainly peas, which are mainly not very green, and mainly cheese chunks, which are definitely in cubes.

Get Ron's review two whole days before it appears anywhere else.

Frankly? This is going to be a bit more like work, I think, because, Ranjit’s is a vegetarian restaurant, and well you-know, the veggies take special skills to be brought back to life.

So I tear myself a piece of one of the two freshly made rotis that come with this Sabji Of The Day, yes it is pea and paneer, and start scooping and, well, working. Meat, no meat, who cares?

The flavours are so warm and embracing and there’s a deliciously sort of spicy, curry-leaf, curry-sauce gravyish vibe, the peas like sweet little poppers, the cheese adding depth and, yes, I’ve eaten it all.

I leave kicking myself for not coming in here on a regular basis when off duty.

Ranjit's is basic but friendly (Image: Colin Mearns) Ranjit’s Kitchen

607 Pollokshaws Road

Glasgow

0141 423 8222

Closed Mondays

Menu: Daals of the day, those now pretty famous pakora, sabjis, alloos, rotis and parathas made as if at home in the Panjab. And vegetarian too. 4/5

Service: Relaxed, pretty minimal but still pleasant. 3/5

Atmosphere: Mid January and the place was unusually quiet. Relaxing and chilled. Normally bustling. 4/5

Price: The sabji with two rotis was £6, the pakora that would feed two - £7, still an absolute bargain. 5/5

Food: It’s completely irrelevant that the food is vegetarian when it comes to the flavours which are bold and sophisticated. Everything is made with pride. 8/10

Total 24/30