Everyone loves a good curry. The old Indian restaurant is a tried and tested formula - the culinary equivalent of a comfort zone.

Many old curry hands don't even bother looking at the menu, so familiar are they with the standard fare.

So the opening of a new South Asian eatery which promises to offer something a little different from its legion of competitors is always going to cause a rush of excitement.

The interestingly named 4500 Miles from Delhi occupies a curious position on Park End Street - a thoroughfare more noted for pavement pizzas than fine dining. But, neither is it the kind of place that is set up to profit from the gaggles of boozy punters en route from bar to club.

WHY DO YOU SAY THAT?

Because it's classy, and a far cry from the homely kind of place most of us go for a 'ruby' fix. Minimalist and uncluttered, it's also big. Not just spacious. It's huge.

And on the night we were there, it was practically empty. Okay, it was a Monday, but I had expected a few fellow diners.

A gleaming open plan kitchen dominates the back of the place, so you can watch your meal being prepared by the immaculately attired chefs.

Endearingly, despite its cool trappings, it does feature token squares of flock wallpaper - a knowing wink to the curry cognoscenti, perhaps. Or maybe they just ran out.

DOES THAT MEAN THEY DON'T PLAY SITAR MUSIC?

Not a bit of it. We were greeted by enough traditional Indian music to keep even Ravi Shankar happy. There's nothing sadder than an Indian restaurant that's lost touch with its roots (and yes, I do know most are Bangladeshi).

SO WHAT WAS THE FOOD LIKE?

Well, this is one place where you would be a fool not to study the menu.

Starters include the standards - onion bhajis and vegetable pakoras - but also more imaginative creations like the fabulous-sounding chilli and cheese naan; mains include "tandoori sizzling specialities", and "festival main courses" such as garlic chilli king prawns, and 'real' Indian dishes cooked in a 'handi' (long necked steaming pot) or on a 'tawa' (iron griddle). You'd be crazy to settle for a chicken tikka masala.

WHAT DID YOU GO FOR?

After some poppadoms, and very appetising dips made with fresh ingredients, I plumped for Goan fish curry. Then I changed my mind and ordered a lamb mughlai, before reverting to the fish. The waiter, to his credit, didn't flinch.

My friend was more decisive, going straight for a chooza makhni. Both were excellent and justified their relatively steep prices (£11.50 and £9.95 respectively). The fish curry was spicy but flavoured with coconut, giving it a sweet exotic edge. It also required an additional Cobra beer to quell the tingling tastebuds.

The makhni, meanwhile, was loaded with tender chicken and smothered with a rich tomato-based sauce. Both came in very generous portions, and we were glad we'd decided to share just one rice and naan (a kulcha, stuffed with chopped onion and pepper).

While I happily polished off my curry, my friend was thoroughly defeated by the makhni, and asked to take the rest home. The helpful waiter was more than happy to oblige - leaving it on the front desk in a takeaway pot (did I say they also do takeaways?).

They do a good range of desserts, but, alas, for us, it would have been a kulfi too far. So we settled for Indian spiced tea and filter coffee.

WOULD YOU GO AGAIN?

You bet. It may cost more than average, but it more than makes up for it in quality, quantity, and, most importantly, imagination.