Its sister place in Stoneybatter was once an old- fashioned bar, now it's a hugely popular gastropub – can WJ Kavanagh's serve up the same magic, asks CATHERINE CLEARY
A DARK NIGHT, a half-empty pub and a question. “What’s a vlaa?” we ask in WJ Kavanagh’s on Dublin’s Dorset Street. We’re reading from the cutesy menu, printed on a small bundle of record cards held together with a brass ring. A vlaa is this pub’s take on a blaa, but because the Waterford floury bap may be about to be given EU protection (so, like Champagne, you won’t be able to call it a blaa if it’s not made in Waterford) then these are vlaas, named after Vlad, the baker in the nearby Spade Enterprise Centre, who makes them.
The people who have reopened Kavanagh’s in recent weeks like to put a bit of thought and the occasional joke into things. Like the opening night – which happened the day before our visi and was timed for precisely 4.16pm. This was to commemorate the fact that their first pub,
L Mulligan Grocer in Dublin’s Stoneybatter, was 16 minutes late in opening on its first day.
Creating your own folklore seems a wee bit cheeky when that first opening was just a brief 18 months ago. But the Mulligans crew have worked hard to turn a dying-on-its-feet pub into a busy food-lovers’ pub. Craft beers, whiskeys, good cooking and a general air of friendly enthusiasm from its young team have made it a reason to envy Stoneybatter residents. Every neighbourhood deserves a Mulligans. It brought pubs out of the depths of the cellophane-toasted-sandwich age into being a place where you might go to eat.
Kavanagh’s feels like a much bigger pub than Mulligans. When we walk through the door there’s still a slightly musty smell of a once-closed pub, where nothing much happened but the occasional seep of damp and neglect. But it has scrubbed up nicely.
The toffee-varnished pine panelling has been painted a cheery green in parts and there’s a purple wall and an aviation theme going on in the decor. The plain tables are brightened up with painted tin cans, dressed with paper and string and holding cheerful papery white bursts of gypsophila. And there are comfy chairs, cast iron radiators, gilt mirrors, books and nooks.
The other big difference from Mulligans is that this is a slightly less friendly street. I once lived on Dorset Street and don’t have much in the way of happy neighbourhood memories. Many people see it as a pass-through kind of street, either on the airport or Croke Park run. Match and concert crowds will pack out this place on certain days of the year, but we’re here to see if there are other reasons to come.
And there are plenty. The first is a €6.50 starter of organic black pudding wontons. They’re crispy golden triangles filled with black tasty innards and they are set off perfectly with an lip-puckering Aspell apple cider vinegar and soy dipping sauce. I get a gorgeous big bowl of cockles and mussels “laksa” style (€7.50) – Molly Malone after a trip east to find herself. They’re swimming in a creamy broth of lemongrass, ginger chilli and coconut. The mussels are brilliantly cooked and the cockles are small gnarly bursts of tangy flavour. They’re a fantastic seafood that we simply don’t see enough of on Irish menus. I keep two of the shells to bring home to our youngest who’s been belting out versions of Molly Malone with gusto since his St Patrick’s Day parade.
Before the food comes we kick off with two cocktails, which are served in jam jars with the gingham lids as coasters. My Hedgerow has vodka, elderflower and blackcurrant juice and St Germain liqueur (made from Alpine elderflower blossoms) in it. The Daisy Chain (saw massacre) has gin, St Germain, raspberry and thyme liqueur and apple juice. Both are delicious but the Daisy Chain nails it.
We go for low-key mains, a buttermilk lemon fried free range chicken dish (€16.50) which comes as a flattened fillet with a slightly-crispy skin. It looks like something you might tip out of a freezer bag on a busy evening but it tastes several notches better. A small portion of macaroni and cheese, made with that king of cheeses Glebe Brethan is great although there’s been a slightly heavy hand with the white pepper. A bundle of perfectly crispy kale is gorgeous. My friend’s burger is a little on the heavy side. The burger has been wrapped in a lagging jacket of bacon and then had a generous dollop of blue cheese melted onto it, a treatment that might need to come to the table with its own defibrillator. It comes with a brilliant white cabbage, pear and radish slaw (though the pear element is a bit sparse) and twice-cooked chips (€15).
After all that food we share a dessert of apple and rhubarb crumble with cinnamon ice cream. The homely staple is done just right and the ice cream prompts retro taste memories of Richies Cinnamon Lozenges.
After dinner a customer comes up to chat, telling us that he’s in his 80s and it’s his first visit to Dublin from his home in Galway. “Were you never at Croke Park?” Columbo at my table asks. Yes, the man says with a smile, he’s been to Croke Park, but never been up to Dublin. I get the distinction.
And for his “first visit” to Dublin he’s picked a good spot. WJ Kavanagh’s may just provide spillover for disappointed Mulligans customers who can’t get a table on a busy night. But it’s a more-than-friendly sister place with the potential and the standard of cooking to make it a destination in its own right.
Dinner for two with two cocktails, a glass of wine and a beer came to €80.90.
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4-5 Dorset St, Dublin 1.
Tel: 01-873 0990
Facilities: Not much changed from bar days
Music: Low-volume Indie
Wheelchair access: Yes Provenance: Chapter and verse. It’s a love letter to Irish food producers.
Quirks: Cash only the night we were there as they wait for a landline for the machines
