Michelin & back again

Oystercatcher Bistro,

Sat, 11 Apr, 2015 - 01:00

Tony Clayton-Lea

Sleepy enough during the winter months, Carlingford still hasn’t come to life in early March. A bitter chill hangs in the air like an invisible icicle, threatening to spike you in the neck, but the sun is shining and if there’s one thing we know for certain it’s that whenever the sun shines, Carlingford opens up like a flower.

We are in the beautiful, compact Louth village because we’re escaping the tyranny of grown-up children, and where better to breathe easy than here? There are a few other places we could have chosen for dinner but a sign outside the Oystercatcher Bistro — right in the centre of the village — catches our eye. Written in yellow chalk, it states (and I’m paraphrasing) that the rear door is only for the likes of politicians, gobdaws, spin merchants, crackerjacks, dubious langers, and other people of similar ilk. The front door, therefore, is for the likes of honest people who like good food at bistro prices. That’s us, then.

Owned and operated by husband-and-wife team Harry and Marian Jordan, the Oystercatcher isn’t the first restaurant they have presided over in Carlingford. They previously owned a decidedly upmarket restaurant, Jordan’s Townhouse; it catered for the Michelin crowd, but, before long, Harry became all too aware that his original passion (cooking “simply good food” as it says on the restaurant’s website) was being directed to a different place altogether. In effect, it quickly transpired that Harry was cooking not for his customers but for judges and critics. Cue a a major rethink, a timely retreat from the hospitality business, and a return to simpler, more reasonable times.

That was about four years ago, and it’s fair to say everyone has benefited from the Jordans’ recalibration of their modus operandi. Everything except the quality of the food has been scaled down, and so the room we walk into is small but efficiently laid out. A shrewd guess is that the room can take no more than 35-40 people. Such a size is large enough for what is effectively a two-person operation yet small enough to engender the kind of atmosphere you can almost touch.

Regular readers of this column will know we place important emphasis in the ambience generated by displays of art and music, and in these areas the Oystercatcher intrigues. The walls are covered in photographic odds and ends, and what appear to be random, small artworks; for what it’s worth, we think a more cohesive collection of images would benefit those who like to look around while they wait for the food to be served. The music, however, is superb — a selection of ’50s/’60s crooners, mostly female (Rosemary Clooney, Alma Cogan) — tying in with the discernible lost-era sensibilities of the village.

As we’re being serenaded by Rosemary and Alma, and as the married couple two tables to our left start haranguing each other (“you sat on your arse all day and didn’t even put on the dishwasher!”) we choose from the menu. Harry prides himself on sourcing the majority of food from within a 30km radius, and as Carlingford is rightly famous for its seafood, we go for starters of dressed crab (which arrives, tastefully presented, in a scallop shell) with Guinness bread; and Andalusian prawns (with butter garlic, chilli and anchovies, chorizo and mustard). Succulent is an overused word when talking or writing about food that hits the spot in more ways than one, but Harry’s way with these dishes is just that, no more and no less.

For mains we jump from sea to land: Vietnamese chicken with ratatouille sauce, and pork belly with black pudding and mash. The former references the chef’s liking for African and Middle Eastern hints and flavours, but there’s nothing overpowering here — hints and flavours are simply that. As with the starters, the food is cooked just right, with not an air of conceit or ego spoiling the end result.

Ultimately that’s what we have here: The Oystercatcher Bistro is the outcome of hard work and hard-earned experience. It is a restaurant run by people who have been at the sharp end of the Michelin adventure and found the point not to their liking. There is no pressure here to astonish, but rather to source, cook, present, and deliver unpretentious, seriously enjoyable food.