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San Francisco may be a food haven but there’s one cuisine I’ve lusted over but couldn’t seem to find a good example of – Indian.

I came to good Indian food very late in life. Ten years of enforced eating of boarding school curries, complete with apples and sultana, left me with a horror of them and I avoided anything curried for nearly 20 years.

It’s a pity, because getting lashed up and going for a curry is a popular pastime, and one brilliantly sent up by the Goodness Gracious Me crew in their sketch ‘Going for an English’.

Then, a few years ago the Masala Zone opened up down the street from work. J and I would meet up about once a month to catch up and have lunch, usually in whatever was new in our area, and the Masala Zone was mentioned. So I agreed, with a certain amount of dread.

But to my surprise I really enjoyed it, and felt none of the queasiness that had accompanied previous attempts to sample curry in the past. The think dhals were delicious and while some stuff is still not to my taste I began carefully sampling a wide range of dishes.

So when I met up with C and his Indian friend we were going to go out for a Chinese but when he suggested a curry house that had been highly recommended I jumped at the chance.

The New Delhi curry house is a wonder. It looks just like a good curry house in the UK, if said place had the money to do the job of decoration properly. Ceiling fans spin merrily, carvings adorn the walls and the serving platters are mostly authentic.

The food is superb, even if the other two thought it wasn’t spicy enough. My lamb rogan josh was perfectly; a dark, rich tomato sauce with well cooked chunks of lamb floating through. The nan was delicious, moist enough to tear well and puffed up like little spicy pillows of delight. Don’t even get me started on the poppadoms.

Add in Kingfisher lager and excellent staff and it was a great night. The other two were on for a late one so I bid them goodbye. Hopefully C and I will meet up sooner next time, six years has been too long.