EATING OUT:Kinara and Kajjal, two popular Pakistani restaurants on Dublin's northside, have a new sister restaurant open in D6

THERE PROBABLY ISN’T an Urdu word for “By the Luas” but if it existed, it might be written over the smart exterior of Ranelagh’s newest ethnic restaurant. Kinara is Urdu for “At the water’s edge” according to the website for this restaurant’s big sister in Clontarf. Tonight, the only water is coming in squally cold spikes from the sky, and we are walking to Kinara Kitchen on Dublin’s southside. The word in the village is good. So good that three people have separately urged me to go there, so a visit from one of my sisters-in-law seems a perfect opportunity.

Inside is just as smart and confident as outside, with lots of timber, leather (there are straps on the seats like expensive leather belts drawn over well-padded stomachs), olive green walls and the kind of lighting that knocks 10 years off everyone. And it appears we have stepped back in time because here’s a genuinely busy. buzzing restaurant on a Thursday night where the only table I could book was an early sitting at 7pm.

We settle in to our comfortable table and scan the long menu. I discover later it’s a cut-and-paste from the other two restaurants. As sister operations go, this is a case of triplets, with little difference between this arm and Kinara Clontarf and Kajjal in Malahide. Someone has decided the menu is not broken so why reinvent it? At least prices have not mysteriously risen in the journey south. The owners of Café Bar Deli, who closed their Ranelagh branch across the road from here in the summer, cited the problems of too much competition and people spending less. There are no signs of that here this evening.

The appeal of this Pakistani restaurant is obvious on a winter night. This is a warm place with spicy smells and welcoming staff. We have a choice of food that would be challenging to recreate at home and are surrounded by people who really appear to be enjoying themselves.

We order starters of saffron yakhni, a traditional Pakistani chicken and saffron broth, and lasooni machali, marinated monkfish. Trish goes for Nehari Gosht, a beef dish which we’re told is “eaten daily in the homes of Karachi” for a main course, while I order the tilapia fish. A bottle of Languedoc Picpoul de Pinet Domaine Felines-Jourdan (€24.50), a side order of tarka dal and a sweet badam kismish naan bread complete the order.

First come three shot-glasses of mango, salsa and tamarind dips with crisp poppadoms. The salsa is simple and delicious, tiny cubes of fresh red onion, tomato and cucumber with fresh coriander shards. The mango looks like a pale marmalade with flecks of onion seeds and a deep set of warm background flavours. The tamarind is thick and sticky and very moreish. I ask about the ingredients in the mango dip and we’re told it comes in a big jar from London. Oh, okay. But then the waiter adds that it’s the basic mango ingredient that comes in the big jar, and it’s “very sweet” so they add onion seeds, toasted cumin, chilli flakes, garam masala and vinegar.

My chicken soup comes in its own pot with a lid and is scaldingly hot. Perhaps I’ve cauterised some taste buds but it’s disappointingly bland and a bit oily, like something leftover after something much tastier was cooked in it. Not so much chicken soup for the soul as a soulless broth.

Trish’s monkfish is decidedly strange. It looks like monkfish on the outside, cut in those familiar chunks, but its consistency is unlike any monkfish either of us has tasted. It’s nicely spiced and properly cooked but it has none of the robust rubbery texture of monkfish. Instead, it’s thready as if the flesh has been over-marinated. It comes with a very western sprinkling of undressed salad leaves and carrot shards.

“If I made this at home I’d be disappointed and think I’d done something wrong,” Trish says. She likes my soup, though, and as I get to the bottom it gets tastier. Tiny cubes of chicken so precisely cut they look like tofu are resting here. Someone in this kitchen has the knife skills of a surgeon.

Then the mains arrive and I get mine on a roof slate. It’s my third slate-instead-of-plate in recent weeks. Has an innovative building supplies firm retooled their surplus roof tiles to flog them to restaurants around the country? It’s enough to make you pack a plate in your handbag.

Anyway, the silver lining is that the main courses are really good. We fall gratefully on them, relieved. “That’s delicious,” Trish says, tasting her tenderloin, which is falling under the fork and perfectly cooked with plenty of heat without the spice overwhelming the beef.

My fish, two fillets balanced on a mixture of unspiced vegetables, is delicious. It’s crunchy with seared spices on the outside and soft in the middle. A shot glass of mint sauce is zingy and gorgeous. I’ve never eaten mint sauce with fish before but the spice and mint flavour combination is wonderful. The vegetables are slightly underwhelming, but the fish makes up for their lack of character.

The naan bread is a soft, doughy pocket filled with an orangey mixture of coconut and fat yellow sultanas. The dal is buttery and luxurious. We share a portion of great ice-cream with caramelised nuts to finish off.

Although the table was due to be given up before 9pm it’s long past that and no one has hunted us out into the night. Apart from a slightly duff note with the starters it has lived up to the hype. This place is not cheap but it’s very cheerful.

Dinner for two with a bottle of wine and one dessert comes to €105.75

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