A new gastropub in Stoneybatter is in its early stages, but shows plenty of potential, writes CATHERINE CLEARY
THE DEAL was simple. A friend would babysit our children if she could also mind the phone and the Blackberry. I jumped at the offer. “We’re doing controlled crying on those,” I said pointing at the devices. “The more you answer them, the more they ring.”
And so he and I hopped on bicycles and pedalled off with nothing more than wallet and keys. It was unencumbered time travel back to when our eyes first met through the smoky fug of a packed pub.
Pubs have changed and so have we. We like to sit down. And we were ravenous, as smells of dinner wafted out of neighbours’ houses. We were hoping Stoneybatter’s new gastropub would hit the spot.
I have had some of my direst meals in pubs. One memory stands out in a deserted Mayo village on a chilly, sunny Saturday, with a plate of food so inedible that paying the bill felt like a polite mugging. Looking for good food in an Irish pub can feel like digging in a potato field hoping to find Fabergé eggs.
L Mulligan Grocer is a handsome black and red pub on the main street of Stoneybatter village in north central Dublin. Three young men, Michael, Colin and Seáneen, are now in charge of this smartened-up old man’s pub. These boys are keen as mustard. They have just started doing food.
We sat on comfy chairs at the back of the bar with an empty dining area behind us, and the quiet midweek drinkers chatting in the front of house. There was a book cupboard holding wine, beer, whiskey and pub lore books. The bottom shelf housed the board games.
We cracked open a newish box of Scrabble and settled in. The menu was simple – three starters, meat, fish and vegetarian, and three mains, similarly representative. I went for fish and my bloke did the blokeish meat thing. Then, just to break with tradition, I had a pint of stout, O’Hara’s (€4.50), and he had a glass of Argentinian Torrontes (€6).
Our food arrived swiftly and the Scrabble board was moved to one side to make way. His organic black pudding with rhubarb relish (€5) was probably the best fiver you could spend on food in Dublin. “Top notch,” he said with a large smile on his face. The discs of pudding were crisply cooked and the rhubarb was such a good companion, it had the makings of an instant classic. A lightly dressed rocket gave a green crunch to it all.
My potted crab with sour-dough soldiers (€6.50) was very good. Fresh crab under a lid of hardened butter, it could have done with 20 minutes out of the fridge before serving, as it was a touch on the chilly side. My company of soldiers needed a few more recruits but it was no hardship to fish out the buttery threads of crabmeat with a spoon.
We were ready for great things by now. Himself switched to a glass of the Privilegio Rioja (€7.50) to prepare for his rib-eye steak (€19.50). He narrowed his eyes and played a few deadly moves on the Scrabble board. My word power wobbled. And the mains came with a few small wobbles of their own.
My hake (€15) had a delicious fried basil leaf on top of crisp skin with a comfy bed of celeriac mash underneath. Two puddles of red peppercorns in a red wine jus were served on either side. The little exploding ruby pellets were too punchy, overpowering the delicate fish. Challenging cliches is one thing, but there is a reason pepper sauce goes with steak.
His steak was a little on the thin side for rib-eye and definitely on the medium side of medium-rare. But a disc of green-flecked golden butter was slowly melting into rivulets on top as it arrived and it saved the day. L Mulligan Grocer could bottle this stuff and make gastro chefs of us all. It was a Connemara whiskey and garlic butter and it gave a smoky kick to the meat. Your heart surgeon may not approve, but as an occasional treat it is probably life-enhancing.
Dessert wines, herbal teas and a few other things, including fellow diners hopefully (we were the only ones eating at that stage) are all “on the way”. We shared a chocolate mousse made with Molly’s Chocolate Stout (€5). It was nicely light, although I’m not sure if sweet-tooths would love its muted sweetness. A glass of Lamothe-Vincent Rosé (€6) was ordered in the absence of a syrupy dessert wine.
Colin, Michael and Seáneen are clearly doing something they adore and they’re doing it well. This fledgling operation is nearly there and I would love if it was my local. Our handwritten bill came with a small brown paper bag of jelly sweets stapled to it. A sweet end to small escape from responsibilities. Then it was off home to slumbering phones and a wide-awake youngest.
Dinner for two with drinks came to €75.
