Tinkering can bring mixed results, as Tom Doorley finds at Stephen McAllister's restaurant
There I was, the other day, thinking about revisionism. Revisionism in the context of food, of course. It struck me that it's quite a good thing, in that traditional dishes are subjected to critical scrutiny and if they can be improved or reinterpreted you end up with something better. And if, say, Queen of Puddings or steak and onions can't be made any better, you leave them alone.
Just as I was pondering this, Bertie announced that the Irish people are going to reclaim 1916 from the undesirables and also, note, from the revisionists. The revisionists? Sure aren't the revisionists only doing what any decent chef (or historian) is trying to do, namely using their critical and analytical faculties to see if we can do better? When I was a history student (I never trained in food, I'm afraid), we were told that history isn't a body of knowledge. It's a body of skills through which we try to refine our understanding of the past. Food isn't just a body of recipes, either. And restaurant food, at the fancier end of the scale, should go way beyond received wisdom. If this was not the case, we would all be eating overdone meat and three soggy veg. Just imagine what life would be like without revisionists.
Having said that, revisionism requires honesty. You can't revise either history or food if you have an agenda. And if the agenda involves wanting to have diners go "ooh, isn't that clever!", you will end up just being silly or, if you're lucky, doing molecular gastronomy like Heston Blumenthal.
The reason I mention this is because Stephen McAllister - whom you may remember as head chef on the first and second series of RTÉ's The Restaurant (which, I should add for the purposes of disclosure, also featured myself) - is a bit of a revisionist. Only a bit, mind you, because his understanding of food seems to restrain him from the worst excesses of the tendency.
Nevertheless, a smoked haddock chowder with grapefruit had much the same effect on me as the validity of the Southern Unionist tradition would have had on the late Joe Cahill. The chunks of naturally smoked fish were fine, as was the creamy broth (poured from a jug at the table), but the astringency and tartness of the grapefruit spoiled the whole lot. This is not clever, and the jug routine seemed curiously out of place in a Fitzwilliam Street basement.
McAllister returned to form with a simple starter of roast halibut, served with an aubergine puree spiked with cayenne and a touch of nutmeg. The fish was à point, the puree may not have been a marriage made in heaven, but it was a good dish.
I hesitate to use the word "rustic" when talking about food in restaurants but it seems appropriate to a pot roast of guinea fowl. This is the kind of stuff that McAllister seems to do well, rather than messing around with grapefruit and jugs of chowder. The meat was immaculately tender, moist and flavoursome, there was a sensitive amount of tarragon in the enriched sauce, and a little prune compote provided a sharp counterpoint to the richness and slight sweetness of the fish. Simple but smart cooking.
A fillet of Hereford beef was a rarity in that it tasted of what it was. And there was a pleasantly smoky tang to the exterior crust. Braised red onion made a suitable partner and a creamy, Parmesan-based sauce didn't interfere with the overall effect.
Service was poor, if well-meaning, especially considering that the restaurant was not exactly bursting with customers. Three requests for our glasses of Pinot Blanc eventually yielded rather mingy measures, and a request to taste the red just as we were served the starters suggests a serious lack of focus. This is a restaurant with pretensions to formality and, to an extent, to fashionable cooking.
It would be better, all told, if it took a more relaxed, bistro-ish approach. The bill came to €124, including two bottles of water and two espressos but excluding the two rather tardy glasses of Pinot Blanc.
Stephen McAllister at Number Ten, 10 Fitzwilliam Street, Dublin 2, 01-6761060
WINE CHOICE
Plenty of interest in this fairly extensive list. Amongst the 15 wines under €30 are the lovely Château Beauchene Côtes du Rhône (€20), Riscal Sauvignon Blanc (€24), Sipp-Mack Gewurztraminer (€26) from Alsace and Fontanfredda Barbera (€26). Alain Jaume's exceptional Lirac Clos de la Sixte is €42, while the ultra-ripe Jouguet Chinon Cuvee Terroir 2003 is a bargain at €36. Badia a Coltibuono Chianti Classico Riserva 1999 (€40) will have matured nicely. Hamilton-Russell Pinot Noir (€65) is one of the best New World examples of the grape but Ridge Geyserville Zinfandel (€55) is possibly the best buy on the list. Our Domaine de Cazal Minervois 2001 (€38) was elegant but light on fruit.