Dubai Grill, Glasgow - Restaurants in Glasgow | s1play.com

Thrills, grills and spills

Review published on 10/03/2010 © Sunday Herald

It's only when I'm standing in the street, a warm boiled egg in my hand, that it dawns on me. It's not the crisis that matters, it's how you deal with it. Let's rewind. Robert and I dropped my car off at the garage, the excellent, cheap and honest Glentyan Engineers in Linwood.

Spin into Glasgow and head for a curry at the newly opened Dubai Grill. We immediately order the mixed grill. Mixed grill? It's what you should always order at the new wave of Indian restaurants, I've come to realise. A thought that had unfortunately crossed the mind of every other customer in this flashing Arabic telly, neon lit, modern-styled restaurant.

So, anyway, we're chatting, Robert and I. About our kids, Aaron and Luca, great pals that they are, and about Christmas and how many copies of Guitar Hero 5 Santa is going to have to make. When the penny drops. Where's our bloody mixed grill? Honestly, at precisely that moment a waitress delivers a heaped plate of unordered pakora to the table, points to the salad bar and says help yourself: "It's on the house because of the delay."

Now, if you're thinking they knew they were being reviewed, they absolutely did not. There were times we wondered if they even knew what day it was. Anyway, when our mixed grill eventually arrived, a heaped platter of Iranian style kebabs, chicken shawarma, lamb chops, grilled chicken and so many other delicious grilled and carmelised meats, they were eaten before being noted. And after I had been to the salad bar and eaten tons of delicious tabbouleh salad, taken ladlefuls of some eyewateringly hot but sensational pickled vegetables. After all the main courses had landed, then the fun began.

"Are you enjoying your meal?" the waiter innocently asked as I spooned ghoozi rice lamb onto my plate, chunks of moist meat, lovely toasted cashews through the rice. "I am, but I can't help wondering where my boiled eggs are." Surprised silence follows. "You know the ones that are supposed to be in this dish along with the freshly chopped mint - that's not there either." More silence. "And there's another thing: Robert's dum phukat chicken biryani is good, but where's the clay pot it's supposed to be served in?"

Now, none of this was actually a complaint. Nor was the mention of the fact that the naan bread supplied with the Dubai mixed grill, er, hadn't arrived either. We smiled, they smiled. For the next 10 minutes every time I mentioned, and I did often, that I had only come for the boiled eggs the waiters fell about laughing. I'll cut to the chase here and tell you that at one point we had three rices on the table, were searching for a missing mango lassi, and a bill that would have been adjusted had it not been completely lost. We had the chef in his tall hat coming out the kitchen, bearing a free plate of lamb chops and telling us the mint was on its way and the clay pots hadn't yet arrived. From the supplier. And then Robert hinted that the sesame studded naan kulcha lahori hadn't actually been made on the premises. Uh-oh. He was led into the kitchen to meet son number two, in charge of fresh naan production. Son number one, or maybe three, joined him while the two student daughters looked on and chuckled as their dad, the chef, earnestly explained any hiccups in this family business were on account of how busy the evening was and the newness of the venture. And it had been extremely busy, we agreed as Robert and I stepped out into the night only to be stopped by the chef rushing out with a present in a napkin. "That's for you, my friend," he said. "Help yourself to a little salt to go with your egg". How we laughed.

No, we did genuinely. Because, despite all the little disasters, the food had been excellent, the service chaotic, but the staff and the family were good natured and willing to sort things out. And sometimes that's all it takes to make a restaurant work.