‘Grilled sings with flavour, story and integrity’

Glasgow has often been labelled one of the UK’s curry capitals, which when I moved to the city in 1997 was overstating it. But in the last decade it has assumed its rightful position at the epicentre of Scotland’s thrilling and increasingly diverse South Asian food scene. The latest addition is Glasgow’s first Dishoom (not Scotland’s – Edinburgh unforgivably got one first), the canny chain that harks back to the Irani cafés of 1960s Mumbai and forwards to a contemporary Britain in which everyone wants a bacon naan for Sunday brunch.

Continue west for five minutes on foot and you arrive at my destination: a modern grill-focused basement eatery recently opened by one of the new generation of curry kings. Ajay Kumar grew up in Punjab where, unusually, he was taught to cook by his father. He trained in India, Malaysia and Singapore before moving to Scotland in 2009, opening his first restaurant, Swadish, a decade later.

I’ve long been a fan of Kumar’s cooking and Swadish is Scotland’s premier Indian fine-dining restaurant. It holds two AA rosettes and has won multiple awards: deservedly, but also because we’re living in an era when you’re never more than a fortnight away from the next British curry awards. There, Kumar aims “to transform perceptions of Indian cuisine”. A big ask since, 78 years on from the end of British rule in India, we still too often view this ancient, complex and regionally diverse cuisine as “cheap and cheerful” scran that we refuse to pay more than £25 a head for. In Scotland, Swadish has been a game-changer with its elegant tasting menus and paired wines. Kumar, indeed, is the only South Asian chef north of the border I’ve heard raving about the country’s bountiful larder, taking pride in cooking with Shetland mussels, Loch Fyne scallops, roe deer from the Ardverikie estate and lamb from East Dunbartonshire.

Grilled, his second establishment, is inspired by Indian barbecuing techniques and intends to be a more relaxed, affordable and hip affair. Except it doesn’t look the latter on arrival. Think leather booths, exposed stone walls, and other 1990s touches, extending to the soundtrack: does anyone want their chicken tikka to come with a side of Rhythm is a Dancer? I expected Grilled to be more vibey, especially now that cooking over fire – the world’s oldest method of food prep – is so modish: listen carefully in any UK city and you will hear the sound of tattooed hands slapping Picanha steak against a hot grill.

Disappointingly, the kitchen at Grilled isn’t open, which means missing out on such salivatory theatre, as well as any geeky chat about grill type and charcoal grade, and what part of India the chefs are from. (The last one, quite possibly, only interests my dad.)

My friend Jen and I begin by sandblasting our tastebuds with spicy margaritas and, from the menu’s concise – indeed, too concise – grill section, a wonderful tandoori chicken tikka. The thigh has been hewn into great hefts, duly scorched at its gnarly, warmly spiced extremities, and left moist and pearlescent in the middle. I love that there are two further types of chicken tikka – Punjabi-style angara, marinated in yoghurt and an abundance of chilli, and hariyali, a fresh green herb preparation of mint and coriander.

There are, obviously, small plates: cauliflower pakora, samosa chaat, toddy shop fried chicken – referencing the roadside drinking dens of south India – and prawn koliwada, dunked in a spicy batter and deep-fried.

Curries here are comprised of meat or fish cooked on the grill and served alongside gravy: chicken tikka masala, made with the legs and not the thigh of the bird; vindaloo paired with charred duck and pickled raisins, and a grilled whole sea bream for a very reasonable £22. Slide the scorched meat from the skewer or strip the fish from the bone, slop on spoon after spoon of sauce, then mop up with soft, stretchy, expertly rolled and butter-layered Malabar paratha. Happy days.

Jen and I forgo these, as for us, it has to be blackened lamb chops. Three of them, cosied up on a skewer, clouding the nostrils with smoke and garlic, the lactic tang of yoghurt and fireside warmth of garam masala. The accompanying curry is rogan josh, a north Indian classic brought to Kashmir by the Mughals, the gravy smooth, slurpable and more brown than the traditional Kashmiri chilli-stained red. Divine.

Next, one of Grilled’s biryanis, in which the layered rice, burnt onions and ghee are cooked and mixed, then served with a separate skewer of grilled chicken and bowl of tangy, tamarind-led sauce. Contentious, given biryani’s emotional resonance – it’s known, most famously in Asma Khan’s Darjeeling Kitchen, to reduce anyone from the diaspora to tears. Traditionalists might disapprove, but there’s room for many biryanis on this earth and this one is modern, fragrant and bursting with flavour, its smokiness intensified by lengthy steaming alongside cardamom, clove and cinnamon so that each grain resolves into its softest self.

Kumar’s food has that rare quality of combining restaurant finish and a knotty living history with warm, home-style feeling. At its best it sings with flavour, story and integrity. When he announced the opening of Grilled, he spoke about it coming straight from the heart after years of “fire, flavour, and fierce dreaming”. It’s early days, but it would be wonderful to see more of that dream brought to life in the restaurant’s design and on its menu, as it is so sincerely on the plate.

Grilled by Ajay Kumar 142 West Regent Street, Glasgow G2 2RQ (0141 251 082; grilledbyajaykumar.co.uk). Small plates from £5, grill from £12, curry from £15, biryanis from £18, cocktails from £8.90