Heady aromas - great heaps of crimson chilli, bright vibrant mounds of turmeric, fresh coriander dizzyingly fragrant - marry subtly in the heat of the early afternoon. The scent of basmati, the prince of rice, lingers seductively and the crisp break of a freshly-cooked poppadum compels a sudden awakening ... to the fact that it's drizzling outside, the heat is emanating from the cooker and this is Portlaoise.
Portlaoise, population 10,000 and rising rapidly, and with just 10 restaurants listed in The Golden Pages, has probably been best known to most for its contribution to the State's security system. It has probably never been hailed as a haven for gourmets - but then neither has Ireland.
In the Let's Go Guide to Ireland 1999, we are told that eating out on this island is expensive, the "chipper" is very popular and that when dining out, the most satisfying eats are likely to be black pudding, soda bread, crubeens and tea. Tandoori jinga and Bombay punja don't get a look in.
Portlaoise seems to have been quietly keeping word about the Kingfisher restaurant to itself, though people are driving from Roscrea, Kilkenny and even Dublin to delight in its Punjabi specialities and welcome from a former clothing manufacturer from Pakistan. Khurshid Googee opened the Kingfisher in mid-1997, in a solid turn-of-the-century building that once housed the AIB bank on Main Street. It is the Saturday afternoon before St Valentine's Day and the ornate dining-room is awaiting a full house - over 120 guests.
"Tomorrow night, Sunday, is the same," the slightly-built Mr Googee says. "To get a table at the weekends now, you would need to book early in the week." The interior is striking. The heavy timber front door opens into a spacious hall area and on into the dining room. Saffron walls glow warmly down over the large couches placed booth-like about tables by the walls. More tables fill the rest of the room. Elegant colours of the Renaissance cover the couches while crisp, white table-linen is adorned with three sets of cutlery per setting, blue and red linen napkins and glasses - no curry cabin this. Mr Googee describes his Punjabi dishes as inspired by the five rivers which converge in the north Indian region, across the border from Pakistan.
"The five rivers bring five climates and flavours to the province. The cooking is differentiated by the method of cooking, the way the spices are mixed, and timing when to put them into the dish. In India, the spices used are similar all over the country, but the difference is in how they are used, how the art is expressed."
Where some might understand "chicken curry" to mean ready-cooked chicken breast stirred though a sauce of fried onions, stock and curry powder, with a few sultanas thrown in for a fruity touch, here neither chicken curry, - nor prawn, beef, nor lamb - exists. Here chicken may be "sauteed in butter with a touch of cream and mild spices" as in chicken makhani, or "curried with lentils and pineapples with a sweet/sour sauce" as in chicken dhansak or even sauteed with green chilli, onion and finished with a touch of cumin as in tandoori nagpuri.
The dish which Mohammed Arshad, one of the two chefs, cooks "with all my heart" is the chicken balti, cooked in a small stew-type pot on the hob. He stands chopping onions amid dishes of cumin, coriander, coconut powder, curry leaves and his own, home-made garam masala.
"It contains 17 spices," he says shaking them about in the dish.
Excitedly, he then goes on to show how to make a genuine chappati, in the clay oven that Mr Googee brought from Manchester. Taking a rolled dollop of the shiny, elastic dough of milk, sugar, eggs, flour "and a touch of baking powder", he pinches little indentations before rolling it flat. Lifting the lid from the oven, which one looks down into from the counter top, he then pats the dough against its clay wall, sticking it as it dries and cooks crisp and chewy. Then he peels it from the wall and brushes it with oil. Steaming, soft ... delicious.
Most of the ingredients Mr Googee can get in bulk from Dublin, but he still travels up twice a week to get fresh coriander. There are sometimes problems with getting okra and baby pumpkins. He opened the restaurant because he felt he had to get out of Dublin. Having left Pakistan to study in England, he came to Ireland to work with his brother, Azizanaur, at his Drogheda clothes factory. As the rag trade grew tougher, they went into the restaurant business, opening Shalimar in South Great George's Street, Dublin. Khurshid then opened Cafe India in Tullamore in 1995. It continues to thrive and in 1997, the Kingfisher took flight. People outside the town's shopping centre speak rapturously of both his non-Dublin ventures.
" It's fabulous," says Tom O'Byrne of the arrival of the Kingfisher. " It's beautiful food and they even do home delivery."
Amanda Allen, selling red windmills for the Heart Children charity, says she has used the takeaway in Tullamore, and that the food is delicious.
"There really is nothing else like it in the area".
Bord Failte agrees that Midlands cuisine is improving dramatically. A spokesman said: "Incoming operators have for years been saying that Irish food was marked by over-cooked meat and mushy vegetables. But now we find they are telling us there is far greater quality, higher standards and a greater choice within wider price bands."
Surveys show that although holiday-makers do not come to Ireland for the food, they are "surprised" to find quality and choice much better then they had expected.
Mr Googee explains his success by saying he is in business not for the money - "though of course I must make money to survive" - but because he loves offering good food and hospitality. "My attitude is that you have to do it the right way. I do it because I enjoy the appreciation. I have never had a complaint, and this is fun for me, so I want it to be fun for my guests."
