Restaurant review: Idaho Cafe, Cork
Every single shop, bar one, is a local outpost of some foreign-owned multinational chain, each identical to counterparts elsewhere in the world.
It could be a street in any of several towns in Ireland; it could equally be a street in Britain or continental Europe.
No doubt the developer is happy to bank regular lease payments and the grossly underfunded council won’t query regular rate payments, but equally this globalised homogenisation accelerates the remorseless erosion of unique local businesses that help create a genuine sense of place.
Citizenry evolves bonds with these local businesses in a way they will never do with a Topshop or McDonald’s and can eventually come to see them as ‘institutions’.
It is especially true of the hospitality sector; for all the sustenance they furnish, they are equally places of social interaction and nothing creates a sense of place like people. Idaho Cafe is one such local, independent establishment. Is it time we began calling it an ‘institution’?
Lunchtime on a bright if parky day in early November sees us needing warmth and feeding. Idaho takes no reservations but we strike immediate gold with a freshly vacated table by the front door.
It must be said, Idaho is small. So small that those seeking the toilet are directed out the front door and around the corner to an adjacent building.
Received wisdom when challenged by diminished proportions is to keep it light and bright but in Idaho dark wood panelling and a cheerful clatter of curios only heighten cosy intimacy.
More seating than seems logical accommodates more customers than seems possible and at rush hour it is a glorious cacophony. Young office workers mingle with shopping mums bunched up next to ladies who lunch, leaning in to share juicy gobbets of gossip, while random startled tourists bob about on the tide.
A granny, central casting right down to the roots of her blue rinse, scrolls through her Twitter feed, a serendipitous embodiment of Idaho’s melange of funky, fresh innovation and comforting, old world charm.
All the while, proprietor/maître d’ Richard Jacob and staff wait for the next gap in the bustling human traffic, to dive in or out from behind the tiny counter, delivering drinks, ferrying plates, turning tables. At times, it’s akin to watching a Fellini film set in an Irish telephone booth.
La Daughter is out of sorts. So out of sorts, in fact, it will take all the sorts in the world to restore her to her more usual blithely chirpy self and she is deeply disinterested.
Jacob, a consummate professional (formerly maître d’ of Jacobs on the Mall when it was in its pomp under chef Mercy Fenton) accepts her truculence with such humility and grace that he might well be soliciting the correct temperature from Cleopatra for her milk bath. He eventually elicits an order for a quesadilla and a cupcake.
No 2 Son, primarily put on this earth to eat, is a doddle in comparison. “I’ll have the soup to start,” says he, “what is it?”
It is a healing bowl of earthy vegetables, potato, carrot, parsnip, turnip, with a frisson of fennel. It is there, it is good, it is gone. He then sets about a floury bap with sausages and crispy bacon, begrudgingly allowing La Daughter a mouthful in exchange for her salad.
Though I have a further professional eating engagement that very evening, a situation that would normally see me restrict myself to a few small slices of water for lunch, I am sorely tempted by a smoked fish pie. Wholesome and tasty, it is an elemental pleasure.
The salad is simple and well-sourced (much of Idaho’s produce is grown by Richard and chef/partner Mairead in their own rural home), sound absolution for my sin of excess.
We finish with sweetness, mostly chocolate-based, and coffee, and while Idaho is a great place to linger for a few hours during the day, it seems cheeky to hog a table at lunchtime so we make our exit.
So, is Idaho Café an institution? Well, if it is, I, for one, am deeply committed to the place.
€33.90 (excluding and tip)
7.5/10
8.5/10
8/10
9/10
Funky, fresh innovation combined with comforting old-world charm”
www.idahocafe.ie
Tues-Thur: 8.30am-5pm
Fri-Sat: 8.30am-6pm
