Has this popular Indian restaurant lost its mojo by moving location? Nick Mulgrew finds out On the corner opposite the house I grew up in, there's a small strip mall. It's nondescript, apart from the fact that it is cursed. By whom I don't know, because the shop closest to the intersection of Newport Ave and Adelaide Drive in Glenashley is the first in a row of businesses that get by just fine. But this particular place rejects restaurants like a bad hip implant. In the past quarter-century it has been host to an insipid rib franchise, a couple of Lavazza-serving tramezzini joints, a risotto house with few customers, a spaghetteria with no customers, and a women's-only gym, as if it were trying to atone for its sins.The most successful place to exist there was the gorgeously hip Craft Trattoria - home to lobster mac 'n cheese and Saint-themed pizzas - but even that changed ownership and became as inviting as a dead cat. It was sad initially, but when the bad juju finally leaked and the fish 'n' chipery three shops across burnt down, it became a joke. Then my favourite restaurant decided to move there - and I became concerned.mini_story_image_hleft1For many years, Indian Summer had a reputation as home to some of the best traditional no-frills Indian cuisine north of the river. I was worried the move to Glenashley would ruin its je ne sais quoi, but I'm happy to report it hasn't. The venue hasn't been renovated as much as it's been made fittingly absurd. A pizza oven now serves as a hi-fi stand. The kitchen windows are covered with photos of pierced dancers in various states of contortion. The lovely old exposed brick has been painted over in a shade that I've come to term Durban North Peach.In sum, it's kind of perfect, because there is nothing to distract you from what you're here to do, and that is to eat. Indian Summer has no discernable food philosophy other than "delicious". But stick to the classics. They're everything you want anyway: earthen makhani, rich butter sauces, cream-sweet kormas. There's a lamb madras, made with what could be a head's worth of chopped garlic. The palak paneer is dotted with cubes of fresh, absorbent cheese, and the potato vada, infused with turmeric and mustard seed, is deep-fried to an artery-closing lustre. And then there are the dosas, burnished to a copper sheen; basmati cooked to an expert springiness, and naan fired to the sweetest of spots between softness and elasticity.story_article_right1Happily, Indian Summer is not a place to be suspicious of seafood curries. Order the Malabar fish curry hot, and gulp slightly when the succulent, flaky hunks of hake are delivered to you in a thin, sour sauce swimming with sections of whole green chilli. Spoon in some buttered jeera rice, tear off a section of garlic naan, and prepare to sweat.Get napkins before you do, as service can be slow when it's busy. (But you're probably in no rush anyway, because you're in Durban North, where nothing happens.) The bar is limited but you're not going to want anything to drink other than thick dumpies of ice-cold lager.I'm hoping Indian Summer might turn out to be just that for this little corner of Glenashley: an unusual success for a place that has seen and rejected it all.Just pray it doesn't burn down.Visit: Indian Summer, 34 Newport Avenue, Glenashley, Durban. Call 031-562-1234...