Dublin: Classy, chic and cheap
Alexis, a bistro named after French chef and author, Alexis Benoit Soyer, is a solid, sparky asset, the likes of which every town and village should have at its disposal.Picture: Frank Courtney
Is it possible to eat well for a modest cost? Alexis Benoit Soyer certainly thought so. A French chef and food writer who opened famine kitchens in Dublin and worked in the Crimea as a cooking adviser to the British Army, Benoit Soyer’s food philosophy made a big impression in the 19th century.
It’s making an impression in 21st century Dun Laoghaire too, if Alexis, a bistro named after the French chef and author, is anything to judge by. In tough times for restaurateurs, L and I pitch up to find the place full at 8.30pm on a Thursday night.
Stepping inside, the bustle hits us like a blast of fresh air. I’ve always found the acoustics at Alexis strangely loud, but there’s no doubting the smooth, confident air of a place that knows exactly what it’s about. The potted plants, the playful, quilted-leather-effect wallpaper, the burgundy banquette, and the polished marble bar all strike a note of easygoing elegance.
It’s a place where you can dress casually, reassured that the waiters never will.
Alexis opens Wednesday to Sunday, offering lunch and dinner. For the latter, you can order a la carte or from a set menu pricing two courses at €18 or three at €23. We both plugged for the set menu, with three choices for each of the starters, mains and desserts.
I kicked off with the gazpacho, presented with a touch of theatre — a bowl arrived with a spoon of diced cucumber, a stalk of basil and a clump of cream, and the blood-red tomato soup was poured over it from a white jug. A simple enough idea, but one with enough impact to prompt a smile, and to make me think twice about what I was about to eat.
The gazpacho started well, offering a good combination of flavours, and the tomato and basil notes were very deep and developed, with just a tickle of spice urging them along. The more I ate, however, the more I felt it was too heavy. I left half of it behind.
L’s salmon was a tad overcooked, but the dish clicked, with its strings of samphire and moreish lemon butter making an impression. A curious, rusty-red powder atop of the fish turned out to be butter too, cooked and dried and crumbled like a layer of powdery saffron.
For my main course, I ordered the slow-roasted corn-fed chicken, served with wild nettle puree and mousseline potato. It was very well-cooked, with a tangy gravy and a piece of leg carrying the pungent whiff of smoked hay. Nothing exciting, but nothing left over either.
L opted for 48-hour feather blade beef. This is a cheap cut from the shoulder, and it works best when slow-cooked — in this case, an appetite-whetting 48-hours. L’s had a very good texture, falling away between the teeth, and she chanced her arm and traded the “creamy potatoes” for the dauphinoise from the a la carte too — with no problem, and no extra price.
One thing we felt our mains lacked, it should be said, was a few greens. A single carrot and scallion were intertwined with my chicken, but both dishes could have done with some colour and a little crunch — particularly seeing as there were no side orders on the menu.
Dessert was the best course of the evening. My Clementine crème brûlée was a reminder of how simple a good crème brûlée is, but how hard it is to get right — a crispy and sugary glaze gave way to a lovely, sticky consistency, without a hint of wobble. Yum.
L’s flourless Valrhona chocolate and raspberry cake was far too rich for me. Its powdery darkness and swathe of salted caramel nearly knocked me off the chair, but she loved it. The depth, balance of flavours, presentation and price all got the thumbs up.
Otherwise, I was happy with a French Sauvignon Blanc from a list of organic and biodynamic wines, our waiter clearly knew his food, and coeliac dishes were well-marked and delivered without a hiccup. We left with the impression of a classy neighbourhood bistro, the kind of solid, sparky asset you wish every town and village had at its disposal.
At €23 for three courses, I think M Benoit Soyer would be proud.
