SEE me, see names, I’m absolutely terrible at remembering them.
And it doesn’t help when you get it wrong right from the start.
You see, I got it into my head that this new Indian eatery that has set up home in the old Cutty Sark restaurant was called Curry Sark.
It is, in fact, Cutty Spice ... and now I’m hopelessly confused.
But, to butcher the Bard, a curry by any other name would taste as fine. So let’s stop quibbling about titles and get down to the matter in hand ... how is the eatery?
The first impression is “hang on, am I in the right place?”, when walking through the door that leads to what looks like a coffee shop next to the Cutty Sark pub.
But the very welcoming and friendly staff ushered us through the back to the bright and airy conservatory style restaurant, little changed from its previous incarnation as a hotel dining room.
But whereas it was once the domain of pub grub, now it’s an oasis of all manner of curries.
Mrs B and I stuck to what we knew for starters – lamb tikka for her and shami kebab for me (both £3.75).
The lamb was moist and melt-in-the-mouth fine, while my shami was simply excellent – two huge burger-size patties of tender minced lamb with a fiery zing.
It was nearly enough to make a meal on its own and I found myself eating quickly in the forlorn hope I wouldn’t be too full, too soon.
Mind you, I had plenty of room left for my main course, a mirch chicken tikka masala (£9.95).
It was billed as “very hot” courtesy of a specialised, fragrant variety of chilli used in the dish.
Always up for a challenge, I went for it and was rewarded with a real treat.
Tender pieces of chicken were marinated in an onion-rich sauce that had an unfamiliar, subtle undertone that was sweet, verging on floral. The first bite carried a kick, but not one that overwhelmed the riot of flavours on the plate.
But the tongue-tingling glow slowly built up to a fine fiery heat, almost sneaking up on my tastebuds. Ninja chilli – cool.
As I was building up a curry sweat, Mrs B was making appreciative noises over her karahi chicken (£8.95) which was on the milder scale of things.
She described it as a less creamy tikka masala and was impressed by the cooked-to-perfection peppers, onion and the fresh hit of coriander.
All of this went supremely well with our pilau rice (£2.50) and disappointingly keema-light keema nan (£2.75).
All in all, this was a memorable meal. I might struggle to recall its name, but at least I know where to find a fine curry.