SPICE@ROUTE 77, Symington

OH, DON’T mention anything to Balbir about the blocked entrances, says Lindsay as we stuff chickpea and potato into crispy puffed balls and slowly fill with tamarind champagne.

Uh-oh, I say, plopping a just-assembled and whole Pani-Puri in my mouth - too late. The first thing that came up when I walked in the door was that I was almost on Prestwick beach before I could turn around, and even then I still couldn’t find my way back here through the crystal Ayrshire maze.

The thing about Spice@Route77, here anyway, is well you can’t get in off Route 77 anymore. And if, like me, you’re not expecting the two wide entrances that have been a landmark for decades to be fenced it’s not only somewhat surprising to be touching distance from the restaurant and having to drive on by at 50mph, but a very, very long way back involving roundabouts, and flyovers, more roundabouts, country roads that don’t even take you home, a very sharp left turn, or was it right, and urgent phone calls.

“That cannot be good for business,” I had said somewhat tactlessly at the door nodding my head back towards the cars whizzing helplessly past feet away.

“We put signs up to help customers,” says Balbir later as he stands at our table with a heaped platter of lamb chops. But as these chops are full size whoppers, not the usual tiddlers, spiced, marinated, seared in the tandoor and sweetly crisped I am already somewhat distracted.

“They took all the signs down,” he adds.Hmmm terrible, I mutter, inhaling the unmistakeable aroma of fresh curry leaf drifting up from heaped and crisply golden Chicken 65, little rivulets of garlic, chilli, cream and butter running seductively down the sides.

Here’s the rub. All this entrance-closing, confusion-creating, fence-erecting, hoo-ha apparently happened eight bloody years ago. And I don’t even think Balbir was here then. Though it’s his place.

Since then, a succession of other folks have run this former Little Chef in a succession of Indian restaurant guises with varying levels of, erm, success and then it closed. Quietly. Nobody noticed. Aw.

But then Balbir was back. Hurrah. Like only three weeks ago. This Lindsay casually mentioned to me the other day, adding, I think he’s in even in the kitchen again. The kitchen, I say, casting back to Glasgow say 20 years ago when all the buzz was over which top restaurateurs, Balbir or Monir, ran the city’s best Indian restaurant.

Did he make this, I will ask, as I spoon in Chicken Chettinad, packed with black pepper, popping with poppy seeds and even more curry leaves, whole dried chilli momentarily setting the senses on fire? Or this? And I hover over Bengali Macchi, rich monkfish, tamarind, chilli. Probably. “Tell me what you think of it, there’s a lot of mustard seed.” Balbir had said earlier, before disappearing off again.

That mustard seed gives it an unmistakeable tang, less than a sourness, more than a backnote. Grown-up stuff. We do like.

Now, Cammy, Lindsay’s son, is here with his old man, and by the time we’ve hoovered chunks of moist Chicken Butter Masala, ground mace heaped above its cardamom and cloves, fake-politely decided who is having the last spoonful of that Lamb Passanda, jewelled with almond and sultana, the chat has moved to the fishing boat the young sea-dog is going to sail on at midnight tonight from Troon Harbour.

Well, more specifically, how I’m going to avoid the queues at that same boat of a Friday afternoon and get some more of those langoustine I had the other day. And monkfish. And cod.

Balbir is getting in on this, wondering if there is ever halibut. Spread around us are the remnants of a meal very well eaten, scraped dishes, scraps of naan, a single solitary dried red chilli. From a glittering menu that bears absolutely zero resemblance to the one for the restaurant on the internet. Will I mention this? Hmmm. Nah.

SPICE@ROUTE 77

38 KILMARNOCK ROAD,

SYMINGTON

01563 591366

Menu: ignore the one on the internet and find a new menu inside with Pani Puri, Chicken 65, full-size marinated lamb chops, Malai Kofti and much more. 4/5

Service: Balbir himself was there when we arrived and the service was friendly, chatty and helpful from the start. 5/5

Atmosphere: looks very much more sophisticated, airy and comfortable inside than it does from the outside - and get directions. 4/5

Price: Not cheap at an easy £13 a main, but the secret to Balbir’s restaurants is always take the banquet at £30 a head it’s a bargain. 3/5

Food: After years in the culinary wilderness, the main man is back in the kitchen and it shows, entertaining pani-puri, proper chops, monkfish Bengali and that peppery Chettinad. 9/10

Total: 25/30