Restaurant review: The Woodford, Cork

The Woodford could easily become what it should be, one of the city centres very best venues for meeting, eating and drinking.

Sat, 06 Aug, 2016 - 01:00

I have been squirreling away this juicy nugget for some time and, as it relates to Cork, its delivery may well be perceived as yet another example of especially smug Leeside parochial pride: between 1436 and 1644, save just four years, every mayor of Cork was engaged in the wine trade, a statistic unsurpassed by any other seaport in the world.

To be fair, Cork’s pre-eminence is part of the larger story of Ireland’s historical infatuation with wine.

In 1740, while 1,000 tons of wine went from Bordeaux to England, 4,000 tons went to Ireland, wine historian Ted Murphy dubbing it the Guinness of its day.

This was a period when Cork was still an immensely prosperous maritime city, known to be the second most important port in the British Empire.

In 1750, when the building housing The Woodford was built in the old Huguenot Quarter, it was at the heart of that wine trade, remaining so for centuries more.

It is still a fine property, gorgeous stone face outside, inside, soaring ceilings, a long old-style bar and comfortable, shabby-chic décor.

A very reliable comrade tells me he recently enjoyed a sandwich here as fine as any he has eaten for many a year and the ‘soup/sanger’ combo appears a very popular choice.

We, however, are harking back to an era of dinner in the middle of the day—well, it is Friday!

The progeny demand burgers so I query a ‘Gubbeen cheddar’ topping, it being news to me that Gubbeen make cheddar.

Our waiter is clueless and redirects the enquiry to the kitchen.

They are none the wiser so we order it on the side, the progeny being pathologically particular about burger toppings.

First, we down a decent white onion and Cashel blue soup, a creamy concoction of sweet onion and salty-sweet cheese.

The homemade burgers are textured and flavoursome — cheese is Gubbeen, but not cheddar.

Dear Old Sainted Mother has slow-cooked beef stew and while meat is suitably tender, flavours are underwhelming and she refrains from dancing on the table.

Dearly Beloved has roasted salmon teriyaki, overcooked farmed salmon with a tempura-ed spring onion she can only identify through the menu.

Sweet potato is nice, she volunteers by way of compensation.

I opt for that chipper classic, fish and chips, but batter is greasy and brown, not golden and crisp, the fish overcooked, verging on mushy.

Homemade tartare sauce has far too many salty capers and only superb triple-cooked chips rally the troops.

There is a solitary dessert, a near tooth-breaking pastry shell filled with caramel, served with berry compote and chocolate ganache, made with cream on the verge of souring.

A glass of Noemie Vernaux chardonnnay, from a small, pragmatic list not overly concerned with thrilling the oenophiles, is far too cold, wrapped up tight until pretty much the last sip.

Service also stumbles. Though staff are very pleasant and obliging, the more-than-sufficient four I count on the floor of a dining room less than half full take rather too long to deliver.

Quibbling about Gubbeen may seem like nitpicking from a pompous old buffoon who would do well to hit the exercise bike but to me it suggests unfamiliarity with the menu, essential knowledge in any good waiter; not our waiter’s fault, rather, that of her trainer.

That the kitchen was equally clueless is more alarming, ignorance from food professionals who should know intimately any product they use suggesting, in my mind, that commitment to local produce is tokenistic.

Overall, it is a disappointing showing.

Professional oversight could soon have that naturally charming floor team operating with far greater efficiency while the kitchen could sharpen up the menu; for example, opt for one very good fish dish rather than two below-par offerings.

Better still, wholeheartedly embrace local produce and producers for an instant rise in standards.

Similarly, a little more enthusiasm put into the wine list would justify trumpeting the building’s illustrious heritage.

By just a matter of small margins, The Woodford could easily become what it should be, one of the city centre’s very best venues for meeting, eating and drinking, the kind of thing Corkonians happily boast about.

The Tab

€94 (excluding tip)