Imagine sitting on a Nepalese mountain top, eating the finest food known to man, when a scruffy, pretty-eyed 20-something with jeans that sit ridiculously well on his shoes perches on the neighbouring rock, and offers you a kitten with one hand and £50 with the other.

Done that? Now triple how good you feel, and you're approaching the greatness of Kathmandu. The restaurant itself is sophisticated, beautifully lit and manages to be both spacious and intimate.

As for the food . . . I have never really been a fan of turkey and therefore I was not expecting miracles. However, I stand utterly corrected.

A mouth-watering starter of “turkey wo” (Fried meat with lentils and spices) and “turkey shislik” (meat cooked with charcoal) with lemon juice, seasoning and salad blew my tasteless turkey theory out of the water.

That was followed by a colossal main dish of turkey strips cooked in spices, an incredible rice with wild mushrooms, cashew nuts, raisins, carrot and egg, the lightest nan bread I’ve ever tasted, and a vast array of baked vegetables seasoned to amazing effect.

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I can not praise it highly enough. And incredibly, despite eating vast quantities, the “curry baby” that I usually conceive at Indian restaurants remained at bay. In fact, I felt positively energised. Pausing for breath midway through the meal, I glanced up to see my boyfriend, all misty-eyed and distant, with a wistful look on his face, as if he had been transported into another dimension.

“Are you OK?” I asked, amused. He snapped back into the present, nodding slowly, his eyes widening: “How do you make carrot taste like an entire meal?” It’s a pertinent question, which even now neither of us can answer. It’s no surprise to learn that the chef cooked for the Nepalese royal family for decades.

Evening Post

Did you miss the Kathmandu 2005 Christmas meal? Here is a link to see what you missed.