Restaurant Review: The Ivory Tower, Cork

With each passing year, The Ivory Tower looks less like a restaurant in 21st century Ireland, more like The Old Curiosity Shop as directed by Werner Herzog, writes Joe McNamee.

The stairs up from the street carry a faint whiff of feline, on the first floor landing is an old piano, cluttered with paraphernalia: jugs, vases, feathers, animal horns; a selection of striped silk ties hang from the back of what may be a stool. An oil-painted biblical scene (The Tower of Babel?) hangs on the wall. On one side of a narrow passage into the restaurant are random hats; on the other, a picture window peering into the miniscule galley kitchen.

The softly-lit dining room is intimate, a bay window overlooks Oliver Plunkett St. A crystal chandelier dangles from the high ceiling, original old cornicing still intact. Walls have gradually surrendered to a clatter of works by local artists alongside old photos, knick-knacks and other gewgaws. Two dressers, one country kitchen pine, the other, drawing-room dark wood with mirrors, house glassware, and the antique china tableware on which food is served.