Restaurant review: A Michelin star is a real possibility in the future at Galway's Éan

Our reviewer enjoys a 'dream date' at this Galway restaurant — dining with a crossword, a book, and some top-rate wine recommendations

Sun, 03 Apr, 2022 - 17:57

Joe McNamee

Éan Bakery, Restaurant & Wine Bar
Druid Lane, Galway
Opening: Bakery, Tues to Sun, 10am-4pm. Wine Bar & Restaurant, Wed to Sun, from 6pm
Tel. 091 374 154
eangalway.com

It took me many years to make up my mind whether Galway was a party or a town. In my youth, it was very much the former, a Mardi Gras spelt with a fada, and despite regular visits, my grasp of street names, landmarks and the general topography was fuzzy, usually trusting blind instinct and local comrades to lead me on to the next dish, the next dance, the next glass, the next song.

I don’t mean to depict such a culturally vibrant city as an endless stag party but the bulk of my Galwegian gallivanting was nocturnal — decades later, I still need to take my bearings on arrival.

Accordingly, on a frigid March evening, I first seek out and establish the whereabouts of Éan an hour before dinner. That done, I nip around the corner to the evergreen, ever wonderful Naughton’s for a poke at the crossword and a fine pint of plain.

I’m considering a second when my phone rings. I am actually 45 minutes late, booking time incorrectly transcribed. I hightail it to Éan in a state of advanced mortification but the admonition awaiting is the essence of Galway’s charm: some gentle ribbing, followed by instant absolution, then I’m settled in with reassuring grace.

Éan (Irish for ‘bird’) is the younger sibling of Enda McEvoy and Sinead Meacle’s Michelin-starred Loam across town, and is sited in an old stone building alongside world-renowned Druid Theatre Company, in Galway’s ‘Latin Quarter’. The rugged interior is an elemental textural palette: exposed original blocks, raw concrete, sustainable wood, a lick of Farrow & Ball, gorgeous handcrafted furniture; the overall effect is as fluently stylish as it is relaxed, warm and welcoming.

McEvoy and Meacle have entirely entrusted the kitchen to head chef, Christine Walsh, and daytime offers a pithy, concise menu, anchored by superb house breads, sandwiches and pastries, elevated by handsome, rustic dishes. A more evolved night menu offers tapas-style small plates sufficient for sharing — but this evening I’m on my dream date, dining with only crossword and book.

First up is Squid Toast: triangles of piscine divinity that trigger a dam-burst of dopamine in the brain and a primal compulsion to never stop eating. It begins — as do all Walsh’s dishes — with sublime sourcing. Line-caught Irish squid is blended with shio koji and ground dilisk, spread on house sourdough, dipped in breadcrumbs and fried to a springy, nutty crisp. Fermented shio koji adds fruity funk; dilisk and a shimmering shower of gossamer bonito flakes furnish marine umami. Blonde miso emulsion’s creamy acidity completes a perfect dish. Unsurprisingly, it has become an Éan signature special.

Buttery, leathery Slovenian sauvignon blanc (Fosilni Breg 2018 Domaine Ciringa) with astringent honey notes pairs as well with the aforementioned as with earthier Tempura. Hefty slices of King Oyster in tempura batter are deep-fried, diaphanous crunch yielding to brawny lush flesh of meaty mushroom. Feisty togarashi (Japanese spice condiment) fizzes and crackles on the palette like a loose sparking wire.

Raw Beef is less acidic than classic tartare and the usual emulsifying properties of egg yolk are replaced with demi-glace reduction of roast Dexter beef trimmings and charred onions, then topped with brunoise of creamy Castelvetrano olive and curls of crisp sugary salsify, all suggesting sweet savoury ragu.

Devilled duck hearts sit on sourdough toast with duck parfait, pear puree and rich Madeira-based sauce of duck trimmings, shallots, garlic and herbs, a robustly flavoursome base. My own preference would be for a less strident companion for such demure and exquisite duck hearts that, flashed in a pan with a smidgeon of the Madeira sauce, are achingly tender, buttery, sweet, with a metallic note of blood’s iron.

I order Farmhouse Salad, thinking it might better suit (You can arse around like this all night when dining solo) but that plan is soon discarded as the salad is a masterful composition, brooking no further tampering: bright, fresh green leaves, bracingly bitter radicchio, shavings of saline celery, cucumber, crunchy daikon radish, all resting on fudgy caramel custard of Cáis na Tíre cheese. It is crowned with a downy grating of more Cáis na Tíre. I clear the plate — one of the best salads I’ve ever eaten — readdress the duck hearts, and finally finish the sumptuous, rich toast.

There is a succinct yet splendid list of natural wines and while each of my excellent servers insists their wine knowledge is scant, they are obviously well acquainted with each and every one and I’m happily guided by their infectious enthusiasm. A mineral, fruity Gamay (Bran 2020 Le Raisin et L’Angr, Ardèche) is another fine choice.

But a single body can only do so much and I run up the white flag before dessert, gloriously sated, fed for the week, though loath to leave one of my new favourite restaurants.

Walsh has a CV boasting everything except the testosterone that would see similarly capable male counterparts crowing from daybreak to dusk, and she is only recently achieving a modicum of long overdue national recognition. Her career began under Michael Quinn, in Waterford Castle, and continued with McEvoy, in Loam, imbibing their ethos of venerating local, seasonal produce, and she has also served in Dublin’s Chapter One, Tom Aikens (London), Noma, and Benu, in San Francisco.

That deep well of experience is seasoned with a personal passion for Japanese cuisine and culinary culture that adds elegant accents to her confident, singular delivery of some of the finest produce and most delicious food being served in the country. Éan already has a Michelin Bib Gourmand and a star is a real possibility in the future, if she were of a mind to pursue it. However, one absolute racing certainty is that the next time I’m in Galway, all my roads will lead to Éan and I’ll need neither map nor clock.

The Verdict