EATING OUT:The Ormond Wine Bar is a fine idea, but we chose the wrong night to visit, writes EOIN HIGGINS
ON PAPER, THE idea is great. Set up a good value wine bar in a quirky building, away from the main city centre drags, execute an interesting menu, play some comfortably obscure music, and let happy punters spread the good word.
The good word arrived to me via an overheard conversation in Dublin’s Fallon Byrne deli recently. While I sniffed the honeydews, beside me, a handsome young woman examining the ugli fruits gushed about the Ormond Wine Bar to her pal. “It’s, like, so cool: the wine, the music, mmm, and the food is, like, yummy!” Clearly a gastro-gal who, like, so knew her onions.
On a buzzy Friday night we found the Ormond to be a quirky space indeed. The entrance area is composed of sofas perfect for slouching, bare wooden tables and a number of nooky alcoves. Moving further in, a blue neon-lit glass staircase leads to a vast room with exposed bricks, a huge Victorian-style bar, and a collection of art on the walls. This main area was populated by around 20 other customers: a mix of comfortably-clad Dublin liberals and some well-coiffed trendies.
Worryingly though, in among the hip diners, the wait staff were running hither and thither like a brood of recently decapitated hens, trying to set dance. There was a palpable sense of “I don’t know what’s going on”. Just one of those nights, we suspected, even though it didn’t really seem that busy, and a number of customers were clearly there just for the wine.
We were first offered a table that would have seated eight. We were three, and so chose a more suitable one. We ordered at around 8.45pm. Our starters didn’t arrive until close to 10pm.
After around 45 minutes were told that the printer had malfunctioned in the kitchen – a reasonable excuse. I was glad we hadn’t made plans for after dinner.
As we waited for our starters, a 30th birthday party began to swing, very loudly, below us, which possibly explained our abandonment upstairs. There is a function room downstairs and the noise not only swirled up the neon disco stairs but also vibrated beneath our chairs. Had the service been better, we might not have minded so much, but it changed the atmosphere utterly. We could no longer hear the lazy jazz that had been playing when we first arrived, when the place felt so welcoming.
When our starters finally ascended from the kitchen, we were on the cranky side of ravenous. Black pudding roulade with frisée, crispy pancetta and poached egg (€6.95) for me. Everything that had been cooked was a little overdone. The egg was edging towards hard and the roulade was dry. For my companions – a poor tomato and Parmesan tartlet (€6.50) with mixed leaf salad, and an unexceptional trio of oysters (€4.50). A disappointing start after such a long wait.
The wait for our main courses - a risotto (€15.50), sea trout (€15.50), and duck cassoulet (€16.50) – was less protracted. The risotto was, in a word, unloved. We counted five chanterelles in a stodge of undercooked rice that was left to coagulate forlornly after two forkfuls. The sea trout was sadly too dried-out to enjoy, resembling footwear more than fish. The duck cassoulet was okay. I could go on but, suffice to say, nothing was better than merely okay.
As compensation, our waitress promised desserts on the house and a free round of drinks, which seemed generous: in the event, one glass of wine and a water were on the house. The desserts weren’t charged for, but only one out of three was eaten: a chocolate brownie. Desserts normally cost €5.75.
For a dedicated wine bar, one would expect an adventurous wine list, but this one is dominated by tried and tested old reliables: an Italian Riesling from Cabanon (€22), an Alsace Gewürztraminer (€19), a Chateauneuf-du-Pape Guigal (€48), a 2007 Fleurie from Joseph Drouhin (€29); all pleasant enough, but not strong on novelty. We tried a glass of the Spanish Clos Mont Blanc Pinot Noir (€6.50), which was very good: soft, aromatic, and thankfully given plenty of breathing space before it got to the table. We also had a glass of the crisp and lemony Santa Rita 120 Sauvignon Blanc (€5), as recommended by the waitress. The list is relatively short at around 20 bottles, and most are available by the glass. I had sparkling water, branded Pure Blue Water with the tagline “Carbon Neutral – No Global Warming”, which struck us as unwise since it had been shipped to Ireland from Cornwall.
Sometimes the wheels fall off the wagon so spectacularly that you can only laugh and put it down to just one of those days. We didn’t exactly leave the Ormond clutching our sides, with tears streaming down our grinning faces, but for the most part we found the evening quite funny, in a Fawlty Towers kind of way. I hope it was just a bad night. As I say, on paper, it seems like a really good idea, and the space itself is smart and inviting. Here’s hoping the execution improves in a heartbeat. Otherwise, it might be more successful as a comedy venue.
Dinner for three with two glasses of wine, and no desserts charged, came to €74.95.
The Ormond Wine Bar, 6 Ormond Quay Upper, Dublin 7, 01-8749778
