...has to be that served by Planet Indus on Westwood Boulevard. Credit where it's due - the samosas were pretty good, but the curries were breathtakingly bad.
For a start, the Rogan Josh was chock-full of barely-cooked green capsicum. Now I like my veggies as fresh as the next bloke, but I ordered a curry, not a stir-fry. The dish was plenty hot, as requested, but it was clear the chef had simply dumped a barrel-load of chili powder in there and stirred: there was no depth or complexity to the taste at all. The sauce was watery and there was way too much garlic in it, cut into little lumps that had obviously been cooked in a hurry, or not at all. As for the meat, this dish really is mutton dressed as lamb. It was chewy and stringy and simply barely worth eating.
The Chicken Makhni was a shade better, but still thoroughly undistinguished. The sauce was tomato-heavy, and tasted rather like a bad red pasta sauce flavored with another barrel of chilli powder. The meat was tender, suspiciously so, but at least the rice was properly cooked.
I'm still kicking myself for strying into the place, especially when Ambala Dhaba is just a five-minute walk away. I'm amazed the place was so busy, especially with punters buying takeout. I hope they've never eaten in there. They serve the food on moulded plastic plates, like something out of a juvenile detention facility. If I'd seen that before we sat down, well, we never would have sat down.
Return to Planet Indus? I'd rather crawl naked across a football pitch strewn liberally with broken glass.