Prem makes it into my iPhone.

There I was, back in your town again - this time for a meeting. Working with a colleague from Teddington, we'd suggested meeting our mutual client over a drink followed by supper. The client forgot about the supper and upped and skidaddled after we'd been through the basics over a drink at The Park. (And what a great place that was. I'd anticipated stuffy suburbia - such is my Chiswick snobbery - and discovered somewhere that seems to meet every possible need. Including access to the Internet and a connection that worked like a breeze. I'm rapidly concluding that I live in the wrong place.)

So, supper. Prem had been suggested. Prem it was. I'm happy. Deliciously so. Born in Bombay, I love everything Indian and especially the food. Would it live up to my expectations? Seriously spoiled by having Indian Zing as my local (down the road in Hammersmith, it's where I've spent the last two Christmas Days plus as many nights in between as my income allows) my friend was anxious it would meet what she thought my fantasies were. She needn't have been. Though they are very different (Indian Zing deserves a Michelin Star in my view), Prem has made it into my iPhone, which is an exceptionally high accolade.

There were more customers than either of us expected on a Monday evening. And that speaks volumes. Poppadoms, of course (futile trying to resist). With far more chutneys to go with, each mouthful was fully loaded with sweet, sour, sharp and sticky: desiccated coconut and tamarind making an unusual appearance, adding nuttiness and texture plus a gentle, sweet depth. I wolfed them down with inelegant speed.

No starters. Hard to believe, of this greedy girl, but this was a mid-week supper, not (sadly) a special occasion blow-out. I'm a sharer, in a what's yours is mine kind of way - though I do offer my selection ungrudgingly. For me, eating curry demands small portions of everything, all neatly arranged in separate blobs around the plate and that means a little of everyone else's dishes. The same applies for seconds. And thirds, fourths ... I don't like waste of any sort and am proud not to cause any.

The Chicken Mojadar was a triumph. It wasn't my choice so I let my colleague help herself to it first. That's a Surrey upbringing for you. Rich but not cloying, it was intensely satisfying - oozingly moist and pretty as a picture. Lamb Rezala was densely rich, obviously marinaded to maximise flavour. Generously sprinkled with thick slices of seeds-in green chillies and freshly chopped coriander, it showed effort and flair existed in the kitchen. Cauliflower bhaji came perfectly cooked - slightly crunchy, each generous floret was lightly spiced, a perfect foil for the richness of the other dishes. And good for us. Having said that, Prem's menu is deliberately healthy, with no artificial colours, stocks or additives.

I don't eat rice so I can't comment on that by my chappati's were just the right density, not airy but with a slight airiness, and provided an excellent scoop for the rich sauces. The Peshawari naan was lighter than most, with enough sweet coconut within it to provide a foil for rich spices. Both breads were generous in size; I was talked into having two chappatis in the absence of rice; one would have been more than enough, even for me.

Service was the appropriate mix of friendly professionalism and alert but unobtrusive attentiveness. The sort of place where you actively want to leave a generous tip in cash.

Our drinks bill a