Year of Eating Differently (47): Lazeez, Dean Street

Curry at lunchtime is always a bit disorientating. Should you go and get bent utterly out of shape on Kingfisher, mop up the dregs of booze with a poppadom, and then slink back into the office? Or be civilised, eat your chicken tikka masala without recourse to booze and somehow feel the experience isn't entirely 'sincere' because it's not the same as those halcyon days with the rugby club back at 'uni' when you competed to steal items of crockery from the curry house?
Most confusingly of all is when your bosses' boss (or maybe his boss, but who wants to spend that much time traversing corporate hierarchy diagrams?) takes you all out for lunch. You might have been expecting to get a sandwich from some hellhole on Oxford Street, but instead we all troop down to the Soho Theatre, and thence down into the basement where there's a very passable Indian restaurant.
There's a mindbendingly expensive restaurant over the street (the Red Fort) which we'll deal with at some point, but it's best paid for by somebody else's expense account, so not today.
Anyhow, the menu's not bad at all. Not much vegetarian stuff - one 'platter' which consists of four different sauces, some rice and some bread - but nobody complained about the chicken/lamb/prawns/seabass on offer, and I was full up by the end of it, to the point that when I went off to shorinji kempo that evening, I didn't feel like I was going to die. Well, actually, I did but that was probably the cumulative effect of not enough sleep and too many missed dinners this week.
Oh, and we had homemade limoncello afterwards back at the office. That could never be a productivity boost.