WE find ourselves killing time in Dunfermline on a foggy, wet day with an all-pervasive east coast humidity and biting wind that chills the bones. Like heat-seeking missiles we head for the warm public space of the Carnegie Library and Galleries, that last bit (and galleries) which only opened to the public in 2017, museum, art galleries, local history archive, reading room, childrens’ centre, integrated with what was the world’s first Andrew Carnegie Library.

I have always admired the work of the architect responsible, Richard Murphy, although seeing is believing. This extension is made up of several spaces that gradually unfold, rewarding inquisitiveness. Its internal views are varied and intriguing, leading you on from one set of interesting artefacts to another. At the back it sits unassumingly across the graveyard looking over to the medieval, Romanesque Dunfermline Abbey, adding up to fitting, fluid juxtaposition of old and new. Consequently, we spend much longer here than intended, we’re hungry, and although the gallery café looks better than most, we’ve spotted a big, bright, new Indian restaurant Dhoom, which boasts “tapas styled food from slender streets of India”. This promise we have to test.

Dhoom is a big, ambitious place. Tables inside tuk-tuks, swing seats, tin chairs, corrugated metal table table dividers, faux junkyard wood, steel cups, and looped garlands of light bulbs that conjure up a roadside night market, its determined to tick all the decorative boxes that currently flag up cool Indian sharing food.

The menu, appetising and intriguing though it is, shrinks for me because, like so many establishments, it’s top-heavy with chicken. Unless I’m given a clear guarantee that as a minimum, it’s free-range, I won’t eat it. The other hazard, which doesn’t become apparent until it’s too late, is that there are lots of deep-fried dishes, but that fact isn’t apparent, to me at least, from the descriptions. So from the complimentary starter onwards- turmeric-gold, coriander speckled mashed potato in the lightest casing- we’ve chosen fried unknowingly. Our fault for being dim? Words, such as “ crispy” should surely have alerted me. But what about “lentil and rice dumpling mixed with grated coconut”? These are balls of rice and lentil, well spiced, with a loose haggis-like texture. The fact that they’re fried wouldn’t bother me if the sticky, chewy, piquant “hippie corn roll”, said to be a Goan delicacy, and the paneer kurkuri, “stuffed crispy home-made, Indian cheese”, and the “crispy cassava”, weren’t also fried. By mistake- we haven’t ordered any, we’re served chips as well. Perhaps there’s an expectation that everyone wants chips on top of all the Indian fried line-up? Minority opinion in Scotland I know, as it’s patently obvious that fried stuff is a crowd pleaser, but for me, while a little deep-fried food is pleasing, too much is gross. And the “mac n Cheese pakora”, predictably “in crispy batter”, to me fits in the latter category. Oh and before I forget, where are the vegetables? Doom serves none, unless you count potatoes.

So it’s bliss to dip a spoon in the Rajasthani goat curry, a fabulous bargain (given the price of goat meat) at £7.95 for what almost amounts to a main course portion. This shows us that Doom can spice with skill not just fry: tender meat, an earthy, almost masculine spice blend- peppercorns, black cardamom, maybe?- that heats the back of the throat delivering the effect of an expectorant drug. Goan fish curry is, by contrast, sweet (too sweet you might say), mild, emollient, if rather simple. The sauce, save its decorative fried fresh curry leaves, doesn’t amount to much more than mango pulp added to coconut milk. The fish itself is vapid, there’s nothing to hint at its species, it’s just anonymously white. The paratha is good.

Dessert-wise Dhoom isn’t up and running. Its kulfis aren’t made on the premises, we’re told. We decline the “white chocolate samosa”, probably deep-fried, and settle instead for reasonable home-made gulab jamun, dumplings, which, of course, are once again fried, immersed in sweet syrup and here, squirted with redundant sweet chocolate sauce. Dhoom coaxes and caresses the deep-fried, sugary cravings of the Scots. It’ll probably go down a treat.

Dhoom, 19-25 New Row, Dunfermline 01383 223340

Food rating: 7/10

Atmosphere: 8/10

Value for money: 8/10

Service: 8/10