A shot in the dark
IF RIGBY’S wasn’t a restaurant, it could be a Marvel Comics superhero. By day, James Rigby’s deli-style joint serves up breakfast, light lunches and slice of the Big Apple to customers on Upper Leeson Street. By night it transforms into an edgy little restaurant — with no menu, just two choices per course, and a BYO (Bring Your Own) wine policy.
Dining out, it’s the kind of prospect you embrace wholeheartedly, or not at all. But the reviews of Rigby’s market-style dishes have been good, a sister business has opened on Dawson Street, and I’m up for an adventure. I recruit L, MF and MJG for a shot in the dark.
Rigby’s is tiny. Stepping through the door, we squeeze past a galley kitchen in which a single, industrious chef pinballs between hot hobs and trays of pork belly, roasted peppers and chocolate sponge. It’s a cacophony of controlled chaos, right in your face.
After running this gauntlet, the room opens up — but only just. I count no more than a dozen tables in a dimly-lit space, its dull walls splashed with analogue and digital works by artist and musician, LBionic. Rock music pumps from an iPod dock atop of deli shelves.
“It will all depend on the food,” MF proclaims, nailing it in one.
Rigby’s opens for dinner Thursday through Saturday, charging €21 for two courses and €27 for three. I’m excited to see if it can match the ramshackle energy of the room.
“You can choose either meat or fish for the starter, and also for the main course,” our waiter tells us. “It can be a surprise, or I can tell you what they are. It’s completely up to you.”
We go for the surprise, ordering a 50/50 mix of meat and fish.
After ordering, we adjourn to Louis Albrouze’s wine shop next door. BYO is a bit of a risk for a restaurant — it can entice diners who might otherwise prefer to socialise at home, but it also kisses goodbye to a chunk of margin. This is BYO at its best, however — if you call the symbiotic sommelier next door ahead of time, he’ll even open a bottle to breathe.
After some consultation, we go for a Domaine du Carrou Sancerre for the fish, and a 2003 Chateau Troquart from St Georges-St Émilion for the meat. Rigby’s charges no corkage fee, and there’s a 10% discount in Louis Albrouze’s — the total cost is a recession-busting €35.91.
Shortly after we return, the starters arrive. One is a fish cake with crab salad, the other strips of corned beef served with goat’s cheese, mixed leaves and an egg. Both offer mixed results.
The fish cake is on the dry side, and whilst the crab and leaves are zingy, a chilli-infused corn and pepper garnish tends towards confusing the dish. Likewise, the corned beef is forgettable, the egg extraneous, but the goat’s cheese and peppers are delicious.
The meat main course has similar issues. Three strips of pork belly are tender, filling and flavoursome, and a dollop of ratatouille is lovely and light, but both are diminished rather than elevated by separate spoonfuls of gloopy, pureed mash and carrot.
The fish course is more successful, because it is simpler. A thick, juicy fillet of hake is dosed in herb and butter sauce, and spotted with perfectly-cooked new potatoes. We’re all at a loss, however, as to why the accompanying courgette and fennel are served cold.
Dessert is a satisfying chocolate sponge cake topped with strawberries, and we also order the cheese plate, which comes with a scattering of raisins and crackers (€9).
Overall, our wines work well. The Sancerre is crisp and light, bang on the hake’s note. The St Georges-St Émilion opens up beautifully over the evening, but its dusty, plumy tones are a touch too robust for the pork — one argument for forgoing the surprises, I suppose.
We leave with mixed feelings. Rigby’s atmosphere and the sense of a brave new business chiming with cost-conscious times appeals to us all. But the service was scatty, there was a fumbling response to L’s coeliac requests, and the food lacked the oomph of the concept.
