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I met an old friend for coffee last week and we scrolled through our phones to share photos of our kids. Her sweet posse showed up on every screen. I had to thumb my way through dozens of food shots to find any humans. And to be honest, the dog appeared 10 times before any children. “I do love them,” I muttered. Even worse, I got distracted along the way. I came upon images of a recent dinner and stopped scrolling, captured by colours, absorbed in memories of flavours. “Ahem,” said my friend. “Kahaani,” I replied, jolted from my reverie, sharing the name of this excellent Indian restaurant.

That’s my tale. Kahaani – it means “story” in Hindi and Urdu – has its own. There’s the one about the goat curry that chef and co-owner Aseem Sood ate every Sunday as a child in Punjab, the onions in ghee slowly caramelising in a copper pot, the smell of black cardamom and bay leaves floating through the kitchen. He makes that same curry here, in small batches, braising it until meat falls from bones into a rich gravy.

Co-owner Kunal Bhardwaj tells the story of the clay render in the restaurant. He and Aseem slapped it on the walls themselves: it’s the same material used to build homes in Indian villages. It looks nice, a textured contrast to the exposed bricks, but it’s special because it connects this Melbourne dining room to its cultural origins. It’s also a feature of the tandoor oven in the kitchen.

Staff at Kahaani wear T-shirts proclaiming “Unreasonably authentic”. I puzzle over this. Authenticity is a tricky concept, especially in a nation such as India, which comprises hundreds of overlapping cultures, its people absorbing and reimagining food in an endlessly dynamic masala. But I think what they’re getting at is that Kahaani is different to the classic Australian-Indian restaurants that started proliferating in the 1980s.

With their long rote menus (chicken rogan josh, chicken tikka masala, chicken korma, butter chicken, chicken vindaloo and so on), they end up flattening enormous variety into a standardised experience. Additionally, by being inexpensive, these restaurants have backed themselves – and those that follow – into a tricky corner.

Kahaani is one of a number of local businesses undertaking the hard job of reframing Indian food as thrilling and complex, as redolent with story as it is with spices, and worth paying good money for. (Fellow travellers include Enter Via Laundry, Atta, Ish, Elchi, Cafe Southall, Daughter In Law and Toddy Shop.)

The one-page menu is organised around a map of India, encompassing smoked chicken curry ($34) from Himachal Pradesh in the far north to coconut prawns ($36) from Kerala, about 2500 kilometres to the south.

There are dishes that cut across time as well as place: biryani made its way around the subcontinent from the 16th century along with Mughal invaders. The Kahaani “parda” (veiled) version ($32) is sealed with a sheet of pastry that captures flavour and moisture. Biryani is richer and more succulent when made with meat on the bone, but the boneless, easy-to-eat chicken rendition here is still very tasty.

Interaction is a theme: cutting through the “parda” is a fun reveal. I also loved piling my own filling into pani puri, a crisp street snack ($18), and spooning minced lamb into pav (soft rolls) to make sloppy, succulent sliders ($23).

Creativity is threaded through the menu, which is authentically Indian, too. A common “chaat” (snack) of fried spinach leaves is reimagined with kale ($19). Can all my kale chips be this wonderful henceforth? Battered in chickpea flour, they’re a crunchy cacophony, drizzled with a sweet-and-tangy trio of chutneys: date and tamarind, mint and coriander, and cardamom yoghurt. Pickled beetroot puree adds even more sparkle.

The same fanciful joy is evident in Kunal Bhardwaj’s cocktail menu (all $24). The Shikanji is a gin-and-citrus concoction that riffs on nimbu pani, a spiced lemonade. In Hindu lore, Lord Vishnu and Goddess Lakshmi inhabit the gooseberry (amla) tree. The auspicious amla are infused into gin to make the seductive Amlata drink.

That this heartfelt, 18-month-old restaurant is on Lygon Street is entirely appropriate. This strip is currently in transition, still anchored by Italian restaurants but with an influx of subcontinental, Middle Eastern and Asian dining options. Kahaani is part of the new wave, spinning delicious stories and forging a fresh path for Indian food in Melbourne.

This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine