Our evening at 101 Talbot would have been a lot more enjoyable if it hadn't been such a cold night and if, halfway through our meal, they hadn't started opening doors to let the fresh air in. The main door was jammed open, allowing an arctic blast through from a window on the landing outside, and from the street door. Behind us a fire escape door at the back of the room was open too, sending a stiff breeze around our ankles and up between my shoulder blades. There was no way to get cosy, even with the help of good and inexpensive Chilean red wine. Willy and Brigid had to have brandy and an electric blanket to warm them up at home later on. I had a hot bath to thaw out.
Why such vigorous ventilation, since there was no one old enough to be menopausal on the staff, Brigid wondered. It was almost as if they wanted to get rid of us. By 10.30 p.m. the place had all the atmosphere of a dance hall when the fire doors are thrown open to make people go home.
The restaurant was about half full but the staff appeared to be winding down for the night. Our early orders arrived promptly, but then there was a long lull - a very long lull - before we were offered coffees or the bill. The cold was unforgivable - and I'm also peeved that our waiter confiscated my umbrella and put it in a stand by the door from which, naturally, I forgot to retrieve it. But if you have a set of thermals on, or a good winter coat, you could have a very decent meal at 101 Talbot for half the price of many restaurants in town.
The restaurant has been going strong for 13 or 14 years and while it has stopped doing lunch except on Fridays, it's a friendly and well-priced place for dinner, with very good vegetarian choices and plenty for flesh-eaters too. One course and a bottle of wine costs about £15 a head, while two courses with wine, coffee and so on will take the bill to around £22 or £23 each. Popular with Abbey goers, it opens early - from 5 p.m. - so you can have a leisurely bite to eat with friends and be in your seat by 8 p.m., quietly breathing onto your hand to see how much garlic you've eaten.
Book in advance and ask for one of the two large tables in the twin bay windows, through which, the other evening, there was a saucy view of a woman in a black strappy number hanging out of a window in the B&B across the road. The street entrance is a little grotty, but if you press on upstairs you'll find a big, cheerful room with yellow walls rag-rolled to look like old plaster, with stencilled gold stars here and there and rows of bright splashy paintings and prints for sale. There's a pleasant, easy ambience about the place that reminds me of cafes in San Francisco or Sydney. Layers of handbills and theatre posters are crowded around the entrance and there's a dash of hippydippyness in the display of hand-painted bottles behind the cash register and the free postcards.
Seating is at tables around the edge of the room or in a big sunken section where the drawback is having to look into the laps and crotches of people on the upper tier. Don't be surprised to see big groups of people troughing in - it's particularly popular with teachers - and look out for a bit of long division going on over the bill, as people take ages to add up exactly so that there's no confusion.
BEFORE the big chill set in we had got off to a good start with a generous basket of a wholemeal and white bread and our wine arriving promptly. The menu absolutely bristles with good things to eat. Starters are around £3.75 and include classics such as baked goat's cheese and Caesar salad and you can generally get delicious hummus or guacamole dips. Willy decided to start with smoked haddock tart, while Brigid had the guacamole. It came with lots of warm pitta bread in strips and batons of fresh vegetables. The tart, which was more of a quiche, was very good with moist filling of smoked fish, and a crisp pastry base with a dollop of creme fraiche scattered with chopped chives and a handful of dressed salad on the side.
Rissoles were a must for the main course, even though Willy felt they were hopelessly out-of-date things, and far too reminiscent of old grinders clamped to kitchen work tops, turning out blobs of leftovers. I ordered Spicy Courgette and Pistachio rissoles with couscous and a roast mustard seed sauce. It was absolutely gorgeous. One tap and the brown rissoles crumbled. They were light and crunchy and aromatic, and the accompanying couscous had just enough of the light mustard sauce laced around it. Very reasonable at £8.95, and it comes with a nicely dressed oak leaf lettuce side salad.
Willy's brochette of chicken and pineapple came with a satay sauce and wild rice and basmati rice. Rice here comes in a generous pile underneath the meat or vegetable, and not in some fancy and totally inadequate timbale on the side. Brigid succumbed to a sirloin steak that came with a creamy pepper sauce, potatoes in their skins glistening with butter, and vegetables. A very good steak, was her verdict. After the main courses were cleared we were left quite alone for a long time. Nobody came back to see if we wanted the chocolate and Baileys cheesecake, or the plum and almond tart, or the cheese plate, or anything to finish with.
We finally got ourselves a round of coffees including two big and very frothy cappuccinos with nice, strong coffee underneath. The bill, with cute little Eskimo mints thrown in, came to £69 for three.
The 101 Talbot, 100-102 Talbot Street, Dublin 1; 01-8745011
Orna Mulcahy can be contacted at omulcahy@irish-times.ie
