IT WAS THE hottest day of the year, thus far. The electrics in the car had gone awry, and neither the front windows nor the sunroof would open. Opening the rear windows created a barrage of subsonic wallop, so that wasn’t an option. Neither was turning on the AC, the car being old enough not to have any. So we sweltered, from the northside of Dublin to Rathnew, Co Wicklow.
Eventually, disentangling prickly limbs from hot seats, we stepped into a cool courtyard and sucked in fresh country air. The creamy, vanilla scent of wisteria refreshed stuffed noses; early evening birdsong caressed our thrumming ears – sweet liberation.
Our relief at reminded us of what it must have been like for coach travellers arriving at Hunter’s when it had been a coaching house in the early 18th century. The 1700s saw the introduction of regular public coach services from Dublin to other parts of the country, and accounts of floods, robberies, busted axles and broken limbs were not uncommon. Many passengers went as far as making out a will before undertaking a coach journey in those days, such was the treachery of the road. Coaching houses such as Hunter’s became indispensible – places where one could stop off, rest up, and perhaps brace one’s nerves with a brandy or two before setting out again on the rocky road.
Nowadays, Hunter’s remains a family-run hotel and has been in the same clan for five generations, since 1825. The original proprietor, John Hunter, took over from a Mr Nolan, who had leased the premises from local landowners, the Tighe family, from a nearby estate. Today, the hotel is run by brothers Tom and Richard Gelletlie, descendents of the original Hunters.
Swallows swooped under arches and over gables as we made our way from the courtyard into the hotel proper, taking a sharp turn right into the bar. A couple of glasses of Guinness, and a good suggestion by the barmaid later, we were seated in the glorious garden. The sun shone and the stout was cool and creamy, the best I’ve had in a long time. It’s no wonder Steven Spielberg, on a recent stay at Hunter’s, became enamoured. We chatted and relaxed, took in the beauty of summer, had a wander through the vegetable garden, and tried to figure out what might have led one of the world’s most famous movie directors to stay here, of all places. We surmised that he must have been courting actor Daniel Day-Lewis, who lives nearby, for a movie role, or perhaps he was hoping to bump into poet Seamus Heaney, a regular diner at Hunter’s. Who knows, but apparently he loved the place.
At around 8pm, the call came for dinner. We were shown to a low, narrow table and a pair of slightly uncomfortable chairs. The room was composed of ancient prints, antique furniture, nickel silverware, white table cloths and a small cluster of other diners. There was also an unplugged oil heater in the fireplace that stood out like a slug on a lettuce leaf. Two Chinese waiters in formal black and white uniforms attended to our orders with charm and grace.
The potted Wicklow crab with melba toast, to start, was very nice. Figs with pickled mushrooms and balsamic dressing was less well-received. A peach sorbet and a tomato soup followed; both were enjoyable. For main courses, the better of the two was a grilled fillet of plaice with a leek velouté. My companion’s crispy roast duckling was homely. Desserts consisted of a pedestrian apple pudding with ice-cream, and a nostalgia-inspiring mixed berry trifle.
Coffee, I was delighted to see, was served from a cafetière. The wine, Château de Montfaucon Baron Louis Côtes du Rhône, 2004 (€41), we enjoyed very much.
This restaurant has more to offer than what appears on the plate. Nothing too fancy, sophisticated or pretentious, but the overall experience is always quite memorable. Dinner, at €45 per person, was more expensive than I would have liked, so perhaps lunch on the lawn is the thing to go for here.
Dinner at Hunter’s costs €45 per person. With wine and apéritifs, our bill came to €138.20. ehiggins@irishtimes.com
