AFTER slip-sliding across the frozen car park, it was a relief to get inside, although we did wonder if we'd come to the right place.

The website invited us to feast our eyes on furnishings imported specially from India.

We'd see the soft-silk tented ceiling and stunning marble floors and marvel at the imposing black granite wall of water "crossed by a glass bridge with koi carp swimming below."

I was quite keen to take a look at what I imagined to be a genteel version of Blofeld's piranha pool in You Only Live Twice.

"On the lower level, a vast projector screen featuring Bollywood films adds a new dimension to dining" ran the website blurb.

If we'd hoped to dine beside the wall of water or to the accompaniment of Bollywood movies, we were to be disappointed, however.

The "split-level" restaurant was on one level, and it was bereft of wall of water, movie screen and bridge over the river koi.

On the face of it, this seemed to be more than the mere embellishment of an establishment's selling points.

It seemed like pure invention.

Having taken a good look around without finding a carefully-concealed glass bridge or granite wall of water, I casually raised the matter of the absent features with the waiter.

"That's our Wolverhampton restaurant," he said. Not according to the website it wasn't.

Anyway, the Clayton Kavi is designed in an L-shape around an open kitchen, dining area nearest the wood-panelled corridor entrance done out in black and red.

We were shown to a table on the opposite side, where the decor is nondescript save for a lurid pink mural and the vast window into the kitchen.

This window would have been a positive feature if it had benefited in the recent past from a half-decent going over with the Windolene.

The menu at Kavi comes in the form of one large sheet, which will please those diners who are overwhelmed by menus that run to several pages, although it might not suit aficionados who value the full choice of dishes and styles of cooking.

Here the choice is between 13 generic starters and 17 main courses, although Herself's king prawn biryani (£12.95) was listed as a side dish, as were the other biryanis.

This was huge disappointment. She was already vexed because a very promising fish dish advertised on the website was not on offer.

The biryani did not come with the usual spicy sauce, but with a dish of raita yoghurt. The prawns were mysteriously tough, the salad was perfunctory and the raita dip had an extremely unpleasant taste.

"If this is some kind of regional variation I won't be ordering it again," she grumbled.

She'd offered me a taste of the mysteriously tough prawns, but I declined on the grounds that I've never been fond of tough prawns.

I'm not sure why, but I'd ordered the lamb shank (£13.95), billed as "leg of baby lamb simmered in Kashmiri masala sauce."

It was basically, a regular lamb shank, slowed cook and served with an admittedly rich and delicious sauce and perfectly-cooked basmati rice.

Like Herself, though, I won't be ordering it again.

On a more positive note, we'd both thoroughly enjoyed our starters. Herself had tried the Aloo Matar Tikki (£5.25), which are patties of potato and green pease served with tamarind sauce. I was given a morsel of a patty and can confirm that they really were quite special.

My own choice of starter was Methi Machi (£7.25), which is salmon chunks, flavoured with fenugreek, and chargrilled.

Fenugreek is new to me, but Herself said it was often used by breastfeeding mothers to stimulate the supply of milk.

Fortunately, she told me this after I'd raved about the big meaty squares of salmon, wonderfully flavoured and expertly grilled.

Then it was Nightmare On Frozen Car Park II: Return To The Cresta Run.

And you thought the celebs on Dancing On Ice were inept.