I began searching for clues. Could it be the décor? Surely not. The ambience was hardly benchmark Asian save for the Nepalese landscapes and the occasional idol littered about. The white walls, table linen and bent wood chairs made the place seem as though Monty’s could be quickly converted into a brasserie or tapas bar – maybe an essential element of an architect’s brief when commissioning a restaurant in Temple Bar.

Nor could it be the welcome. We were motioned to a cramped table by the door and thwarted when we tried to exchange it for a better one by the waiter’s fawltyesque “Sorry. Party for six”, a blatant lie. The background music, courtesy of The Chieftains of Kathmandu judging by the noodling and the monotonous drum beat, would hardly have raised QT’s pulse either.

The menu presented a challenge, even for the writer, who grew up in the shadow of Manchester’s ‘Curry Mile’. But nothing was going to keep either me or my guest away from The Scary Option. Kachela came as a plate of raw finely-minced lamb, herbed and spiced (we detected garlic, coriander, ginger, maybe saffron) and served with a shot glass of what was advertised as Jameson but wasn’t. I know some of you won’t have eaten raw meat (carpaccio, say, or steak tartare) and I can anticipate your sense of shock, even revulsion. Let’s just say that these delicacies never taste ‘raw’, any more than smoked salmon tastes ‘raw’. Nevertheless, I always feel a slight thrill, maybe a harkback to a more primitive, more dangerous life whenever I taste flesh that’s not been heat-treated. So how was it for me? Delicious.
The other dishes were tame only by comparison. It was clear that the lamb in the hasina tandoori had been given a proper marinating – rare, these days. The prawns in the ledo bedo were springy and full of flavour. The sauce, creamy, tomato-based, vibrant with fresh coriander, hid booby traps of ginger and green chilli. The final show-stopping dish was begum bagar, a bed of filleted chicken pasted with spicy minced lamb accompanied by what seemed like a milder version of the ledo bedo saucing – an unlikely but interesting juxtaposition of meat and poultry.

Proprietor Shiva Gautam’s lager was commissioned from the Celtic Brewing Co. I approve of micro breweries but a frequent common factor of their beers is an oleaginous quality that mars the enjoyment somewhat. I yearned for Carlsberg Special, king of the curry lagers, or Tasmanian James Boag.

I’m indebted to the Irish Times’ Louise East for the revelation that the restaurant uses Australian baby lamb in the kachela. If true it doesn’t sit comfortably with Monty’s boast of being the first ethnic restaurant to go Feile Bia does it? But I don’t really care. I don’t have the same touching faith in Bord Bia’s quixotic charter as many of my fellow grub hacks, I just like food to taste good.

It’s irresponsible to expect a single word to embrace the diverse culinary heritage of a whole sub-continent but it’s hard not to treat Nepalese food as a mini-species of what we’ve come to call “Indian”. Monty’s insist there’s a difference but even their otherwise informative website montys.ie doesn’t explain how, why or what. It probably doesn’t matter for if you like Indian food you’ll assuredly love Monty’s, especially if you are weary of things korma’d, madrassed or roghan joshed. Fine ingredients, appropriately spiced and sauced, combined with stylish cooking spell enjoyment whatever the idiom and Monty’s has all these qualities in abundance. I bet Tarantino comes here for the food.

28 Eustace Street, Dublin 2 Tel: (01)670 4911. Mon-Sat 12-2.30; 6.30-11.30 Sun 6-11