MR SINGH'S INDIA, 149 Elderslie Street, Glasgow G3 7JR Tel:

0141 204 0186

IT was high summer ... and the rain was bouncing off the rooftops. It had been one of those weeks. A day hadn't gone by without the Tec feeling the rain trickle down his collar.

Apart from that it had been a dry spell.

Workwise it was like a spot on Strictly - the slow, slow - slow, slow slow - no quick step for me.

"Tec!" bellowed my beloved. "I need heat, something hot and spicy, quick time."

I could feel the temperature rise and the sweat break on my brow.

Her red talons looked as hot as I was feeling.

Cogs started turning and a light bulb came on.

"Pull on your mink and we'll heat up the town," I said.

"Ooh, Tec, the sooner the better," my little popadom answered.

Jumping in the Buick we headed into the city centre and hit the breaks outside Mr Singh's.

The Elderslie Street joint always gives me that warm feeling and it's not just because of the mouth- watering smells wafting through the door.

There was no holding back the Moll - she was faster than a mongoose after a snake.

And the greeting we both got was like a cosy glove.

"Tec, I'm starved," said my spicy little nan. "Let's eat while we choose."

And we did.

As soon as we were seated the lady ordered up popadoms and a dip which we munched through as we scanned the scran.

The chicken pakora had Toots' name written on it while this ole Tec took a flyer and opted for the spicy fried wings.

The Moll was almost drooling as she bit into the good sized pieces which she dipped into the pakora sauce and garnished with the salad.

The kick from the wings almost had me flying off my seat. Toots tried it but she couldn't handle it.

Things were moving on apace.

Popadoms and starters under our belts, the living was starting to feel a little bit easier.

And while we waited for the mains it was a chance for Toots to sharpen her talons and for me to eye out the locale.

It's the atmosphere and style which makes this place a winner.

Week after week the place is heaving as hungry diners make short work of the top class nosh.

It's wasn't long before the mains landed on our table.

One things for sure - the service really does come with a smile, and one with absolute megawattage from our waiter, who was charm itself.

And then the food...

Toots tucked into the Chicken Tikka Bhoona, and the rich sauce with big chunks of chicken was a real belly stretcher.

The Moll claimed she was struggling to finish but as soon as I offered to help out, the fowl disappeared.

So much so she started to eye up my South Indian Garlic Chilli Chicken. Not something for the faint-hearted.

This extra spicy, full-on platter is really spicy - think smoke coming out of the ears.

But if that's the sort of food that floats your culinary boat it's well worth a try.

It was a feast, washed down with pints of water.

And we also managed to squeeze in a couple of glasses of rose wine and two Budweisers.

Eve though we looked over the desserts, there was no room to squeeze in another morsel.

"I'm stuffed," the Moll charmingly moaned.

We'd been defeated... by the food, the charm and the overwhelming hospitality.

Time to hit the road.