It may have been refurbished, but Dobbins still does what it knows best: old-fashioned food, cooked with panache, writes Tom Doorley.
Dobbins is an institution. Tucked off Mount Street in Dublin, it has for years been a haunt of the less flamboyant movers and shakers. A couple of decades ago it was one of the few places to eat in the city, but now it has to compete with brash arrivistes. It commands considerable loyalty, nevertheless. Despite the fact that it closed for most of last year, it is still packed with regulars. Heaven alone knows where they went in the meantime. Old-fashioned food done well, and with a dash of panache, is not exactly common these days. The Lobster Pot? The Lord Edward? I don't know.
But make no mistake, Dobbins is all about old-fashioned food. It may look as if it has been dished up by moonlighting graphic designers, but when it comes to the crunch this is not the kind of thing that will frighten the horses. Even the stuff that is cutting edge by Dobbins standards, such as grilled goat's cheese and confit of duck spring roll, is unlikely to offend even the most conservative eater.
Dobbins has a niche. It's a middle-aged-to- elderly one, and there's nothing wrong with that. It has a more than competent kitchen and, bizarre as it may seem, a brand new and much brighter diningroom. The old, dark Nissen hut affair, with sawdust on the floor, was razed last year. The replacement is long and narrow but less intimate. Frankly, I miss the unique fabric of the old Dobbins. There was nowhere quite like it.
And I am not alone. Many of the regulars moan about the change, but they are perfectly happy with the food. It is not haute cuisine, however many buzz words adorn the menu, but it is pleasant, carefully prepared food.
Our tempura prawns were proper Dublin Bay prawns, not the flavourless tiger sort; their batter would not have passed muster in Japan, but it was light enough and didn't detract from the crustaceans within. A generous helping came with a little salad and squirts of various sauces, including, I think, curried cream and red pepper, along with a red-pepper salsa with fresh coriander. A bit too complicated, certainly, but no hardship to eat.
Smoked-cod fish cake was, in fact, two small deep-fried spheres. Very small, in fact. Much smaller than ping-pong balls. They came at opposite ends of a narrow rectangular plate with a timbale of very good potato salad and a slice of marinated salmon in the middle. The best thing here was the spud. The fish cakes were too small to remain moist in the cooking and were simply dry and a bit tough. By Dobbins's usual standards this was pretentious.
Confit belly pork (which is now as common as meat and three veg) came in a bigger chunk than usual and, unusually, with crackling on top. Not just any old crackling. This was crisp but edible without doing permanent damage to your teeth. The meat below was moist and succulent, and the apple sauce, looking rather like the baby-food version, was a good traditional foil. Champ, caramelised shallots and veal jus completed a satisfactory picture.
The apple sauce made a second appearance with the roast crispy duckling. This is a black mark for a commercial kitchen. Customers expect their dishes to be different, not sauced from a communal pan. And it wasn't crisp by any stretch of the imagination. The boned duck, presented as a parcel of skin and meat, was attractively brown, but the exterior was as crisp as the morning sauna.
The interior, however, was very good indeed. It was moist and delicious and seemed to have been cooked as a confit, which is to say in duck fat. A few slices of fresh pineapple were a good contrast - and a mockery of the apple sauce. Dobbins finds it hard to keep it simple.
We finished with a shared plate of cheese, all in good condition and served with seedless black grapes.
With mineral water, a couple of good espressos and a bottle of decent red wine, this lunch for two came to €117.04. This was the à la carte. The three-course table d'hote costs €35.
Dobbins, 15 Stephen's Lane, Dublin 2, 01-6619536
WINE CHOICE The wine list is being revised, and I can see why. It's good, however, to see six wines at €20 a bottle, including the simple, chunky Fortius Tempranillo, and several wines highlighted as organic. Our Domaine de la Charbonnière Vacqueyras 2003 (€42) was rich and dense but rather one-dimensional. Rhône enthusiasts with deep pockets will enjoy Chapoutier's Côte Rotie La Mordorée, with the 1993 at €130 and the 1994 at €145. Château Marquis de Terme 1997 is an elegant Margaux cru classe that's ready to drink; it costs a keen €50. Alvaro Palacios' inky, oaky Les Terasses Priorato is a fair buy at €49. Dow's Vintage Port 1985 is just ready to drink at €10 a glass or €130 a bottle. I would be prepared to bet that the Château Pétrus 1973 (€2,475), never much good, is now undrinkable.