Tom Doorleyreviews Heron's Cove, Goleen
Always be wary of people who identify themselves as foodies. All too often they will be as bad as wine bores - but they are on to solids and food becomes the focus for all manner of personal hang-ups and hidden problems.
There is nothing amusing about the wilder extremes of food-focusing when you consider anorexia nervosa and bulimia. But mere foodieism isn't a bundle of laughs, either, in that it involves turning something that should give simple pleasure - even the odd bit of joy - into a kind of deadly serious game of one-upmanship.
Surely there must be a word for the majority of us who are serious about food without being too serious. Are we food enthusiasts? That sounds as if it might involve night-time raids on the fridge, with obesity implications. We are not, God help us, gourmets. Show me a restaurant that uses that word as an adjective and I'll suggest fish and chips down the road.
Maybe we are just Irish people with a European attitude to eating respectfully, or iEaters.
A friend sent me a selection of Irish food blogs the other day, and I came across one, written by a self-confessed foodie, that complained that some dish or other, served up in Alexis of Dún Laoghaire, was dated. Dated? Does this mean traditional? Without lemon grass? Completely sans balsamic bloody vinegar or synthetic truffle oil? What the hell is wrong with that?
I had a a very good dinner in west Co Cork the other day in a restaurant that could be accused of being dated, possibly because it has survived in Goleen for more than 20 years by dint of serving good grub that is not overambitious. But it has always been innovative about wine, firstly by charging a very modest mark-up (which is especially commendable in a place where the season is all of six weeks) and secondly by dispensing with a written wine list. You just choose what you want off the shelf. This is a very smart idea, in that labels are better at stirring memories than a naked name.
My traditional crab and prawn cocktail was all locally sourced, almost sweet with sheer freshness and dished up in a sundae glass with just enough good old Marie Rose. Simon Hopkinson would have approved.
Then on to little fillets of lemon sole, each encased in a crisp coating of crumbs (from the establishment's famous brown bread) and served with sharp, tangy tartare sauce. There was a slightly incongruous chilli sauce, too, but doubtless they don't want to be thought of as dated. This was followed by local strawberries and cream. All in all, quite an old-fashioned meal and, in a sense, all the better for that. It depended on local raw materials and the kitchen did as little as possible with them, allowing them to speak clearly for themselves.
This is very unusual. So many consumers seem to want something cheffy when they eat out that most restaurants feel obliged to comply. I once had an e-mail from a reader who complained that the food "was very tasty but a bit simple" in, I think, the Winding Stair.
The Heron's Cove is not for everyone. The vegetables are pretty dull, but this reflects the fact that good organic vegetables are actually rather hard to find in west Co Cork - which is odd but true. In some ways the food that is offered here is the 21st-century version of the high teas that my parents' generation enjoyed on holidays, but it's well executed, and the mainly very young waiting staff, all in smart blue shirts, are charming and attentive.
There were no expensive cars parked outside, which makes a pleasant change. The Heron's Cove is for sensible but discriminating people who recognise value when they see it. They don't show off and they don't want the kitchen to show off, either.
The bill came to €61.45 for one.
The Heron's Cove, Goleen, Co Cork, 028-35225, www.heronscove.com
Wine Choice
I like the idea of having no written wine list but, rather, a selection of wines on the shelf (including a small refrigerated section for white wines).
I like the prices even more. My half-bottle of Jean-Max Roger's Sançerre, at €16.50, was, as ever, crisp and pungent. The Spanish Raimat Abadía, fairly rich and oaky, is very keenly priced at €20, as is Willm Gewürztraminer at €25.25. Château Musar 1999 is not particularly brilliant value at €48.50, but you may well pay a lot more elsewhere for this Lebanese classic. Tindall Estate Sauvignon Blanc (€36.75), a very respectable Kiwi wine, is priced in line with mainstream restaurant lists. The Cru Bourgeois Château Dillon 1997 from Bordeaux may well be the bargain here at €27, but it's not going to hold for much longer, so carpe diem.