Munkberry's, Castle Street, Dalkey, Co Dublin
AS a statement of modish, contemporary design, Munkberry's, in Dalkey village, south of Dublin, is just about as definitive and effective as you will find anywhere in the country.
Set in the middle of Castle Street, in a village nowadays thronged with restaurants, this is a long room, with beech chairs, precise, articulate lighting, and restrained prints on bright white walls. There was a strong sense of deja vu when I walked through the doors, since it reminded me of Belfast's Roscoff restaurant back in 1989, even down to the use of sail canopies hanging from the ceiling. What was radical in Belfast almost a decade ago isn't so radical nowadays, of course, but if Munkberry's is stylistically derivative, it is also quite gorgeous and, more importantly, very comfortable. They maybe overdo the Flora Purim-non-stop-Latin-rhythm soundtrack, but then that might simply be my age talking. The menu is even more modish than the decor, with dishes described succinctly and simply priced: tartlet of wild mushrooms with roast tomato and basil dressing £6; marinated, chargrilled swordfish with spicy noodles, olive tapenade and hoi sin £16.
It features all the modern restaurant classics: prawns with lemongrass; bangers and mash; Mediterranean salad; salmon with rocket; chargrilled veal with tomato fondue and madeira. So, all told, there are few design and culinary details which have been overlooked in the search to create a modern signature style for Munkberry's, making it stand out among its many rivals in the village.
Chris Bailie's cookery style also aims to separate him from his neighbours, and he favours the vertical and architectural school of cooking. Just about everything is assembled on top of just about everything else. My main course, for example, sounded as simple as could be: roast young chicken, potato and polenta cake with sweetcorn and satay cream. You might wonder how on earth you can get something like that to shoot up into the heavens, but Bailie found it no problem whatsoever.
A circle of doughy cake sat underneath a circle of spinach, on top of which were the legs and thighs of the bird, on top of which was some potato, on top of which was a cob of sweetcorn, which balanced the breasts of the bird, which supported some potato, which was topped with a fried piece of Parma ham. Phew! In comparison to this, Russian constructivist architecture is a sinch.
But then everything ascends to the heavens, despite the simple sounding dishes. My companion's starter was the wild mushroom tartlet, with salad leaves and a roast tomato and basil dressing, which promised to be as flat a dish as you could get. Not a bit of it. The "tartlet" was a cylindrical column of pastry, which surely makes it a pie rather than a tart. But let's not split hairs - the dish was good. It was packed with mushrooms which were woodland flavourful, and the salad and dressing were a fitting counterpoint to the earthy flavours.
I ordered goat's cheese ravioli with piperade, which was topped with fried basil leaves and surrounded by a tomato emulsion. The pasta was slightly chewy, and in combination with the goat's cheese filling made for a dish that was heavier than one would have liked as a starter. The sauce was unexceptional.
As it was a Monday night, we didn't order any of the many fish dishes on the menu - which included everything from the intriguing Munkberry's fish 'n' chips to scallops - opting for the towering young chicken, and confit of duck with bak choi and tomato and chilli marmalade. The chicken, unsurprisingly, had lost whatever positive flavours it might once have enjoyed, in the process of being constructed to such lofty heights. There is only so much fiddling about and handling which cooked food can take, and this dish was simply a tower too far. All of the individual elements were in themselves decent, but together they amounted to nothing much. The confit of duck was more successful, with excellent bak choi and red cabbage. The confit itself wasn't as fine as one would have hoped for, the flavour being rather flat. A small bowl of boiled potatoes was served with the main courses, which was somewhat unimaginative given the effort spent on the other dishes.
Surprisingly, our desserts didn't opt for the "infinity and beyond" principle, and both the sambuca parfait with chocolate truffles, and the selection of exotic fruits and sorbets, were largely horizontal, both respectfully made and enjoyable.
If Munkberry's demonstrates all the best assets of modern restaurant design and the ability of restrained modernism to effect a classic, comfortable room, it also demonstrates some of the pitfalls of modern restaurant cooking. Complication for the sake of it doesn't make sense in cookery, and putting the appearance of food above the flavour and taste of the ingredients is illogical. Chris Bailie could take a lead from the rigour and logic of the design of the restaurant. If he simplified his work, then the full potential of Munkberry's - and that potential is considerable - could be revealed. The service is excellent, and prices are fair.
Munkberry's, Castle Street, Dalkey, Co Dublin. Tel: (01) 284 7185. Open lunch 12.30 p.m.-3.30 p.m., early-bird menu Mon-Fri 5.31 p.m.-6.59 p.m. Dinner 6 p.m.10 p.m.(ish) Sunday brunch noon-4 p.m. Major cards.