Restaurant review: Rock solid cooking and consistently tasty, good food at Max's in Kinsale

An evening of classical French cooking leavened with a healthy dash of bistro

Sat, 30 Sep, 2023 - 02:00

Joe McNamee

The last time I was in Max’s in Kinsale, a young Napoleon may well have been working in the kitchen as a summer exchange student washing pots and, while I can’t remember the exact day, it was certainly long enough ago that this venerable old stager had faded almost entirely from the forefront of my memory until a doughty comrade told me of his recent and very pleasant dining experience.

If my last visit to Max’s was an eternity ago, then we’ll require carbon dating and a team of top archaeologists to pin down when exactly I first met The Judge and Captain Seadog in first year in boarding school and we have convened another meeting of our survivors’ club to coincide with Ireland’s World Cup rugby clash with the South African Orcs, overnighting on Captain Seadog’s old tub, docked in the greater harbour area just as another of a seemingly endless procession of Atlantic squalls sets in for the evening.

Accordingly, we are booked in for the very early bird and are the first into a sharp and simple room, pared back to the essential elements of stone wall, timber beam, some tasteful paintings, and a wood floor polished to a high gleam.

We start with an aperitif of superb Cockagee keeved cider, crisp, delicate, and working very nicely with nutty brown soda bread and a nimble black olive tapenade.

For starters, The Judge has sautéed squid and prawns, fresh, juicy and served with green tea noodles, a sweet miso dressing, pickled carrots, and black sesame seed; while Captain Seadog has a plate of pan-fried scallops that are not remotely shy about coming forward, the tender scallops’ marine umami amplified by beefy coral and served with a creamy celeriac and hazelnut oil purée, crushed roasted hazelnuts, and lovage sauce.

Deep-fried brie may hark back to a long lost culinary epoch but I’ve always been partial to the notion and this is fine little rendition. Crisp filo parcel, when sliced, spills forth an indolent puddle of rich, creamy cheese like a squiffy spinster collapsing on to the couch after a free-bar wedding. Served with sweet onion, rowan berry sauce, and a spry salad of mixed local leaves, radish and nasturtium flower, very more-ish indeed.

My recently received recommendation certainly tipped the hat to the Max’s food menu but said chapeau was doffed entirely and followed by a sweeping bow to the wine list and it is indeed a fine little selection, flush with organic, biodynamic, and natural wines.

Our first bottle is Nikoladzeebis Marani 2019, made with Tsolikouri grapes by Ramaz Nikoladze, in Georgia, and is has all the heft required, its lemony wild herb garrigue and bone-dry minerality cutting a swathe through strong, assertive flavours on the plate.

Wild Irish brill is a last-minute addition to the menu. The Judge isn’t interested, says the only time he ever ate brill it was “rubbery” though he acknowledges it may have been the way he cooked it.

My fillet is dusted in seasoned flour and pan fried and teamed with a muscular crew of roasted veg: Late-season courgette that is marrow meaty, soft tender and oily red pepper, saline nips of sea asparagus and punchy black Moroccan olives, succulent and salty. Potent yet perfect with the sublimely cooked and very flavourful brill. The Judge has a taste. Very impressed. Yep, he says, must have been the way I cooked it.

He is having slow-cooked Irish pork belly, and while I always prefer the depth of flavour to be had from free-range pork, this is well-delivered, lush, tender meat wearing a hint of Chinese five spice that draws out the sweetness of the flesh. It is served with local braised red cabbage, rhubarb compote, and parsnip, just the sort of cosy comforter a body requires on such a miserable, wet evening.

Captain Seadog has pan-fried monkfish and it too is built from the ground up with an eye to filling the belly and keeping out the cold. The fish is perhaps a bit too cooked for my liking but it is fine all the same and a mildly citric ponzu glaze glances off the more trenchant umami of red dillisk, sea lettuce, and roast Belgian chicory, with French beans still offering a satisfying snap. Sesame seed completes another good dish.

A plate of steaming, floury British Queens is slathered in melting butter and a sprinkling of chopped parsley, a singular yet special side dish.

Our second bottle is a red, AOC Arbois Trousseau 2020, from Domaine Rolet, in the Jura, in France; it has tantalising whiffs of raspberry on the nose, round, soft tannins on the palate and a clean refreshing finish means it pairs as well with sweet, white meat of the pork as it does with the more demure fish dishes.

Time is ticking onwards and bellies are well sated, so we share a single dessert. It has been an evening of classical French cooking leavened with a healthy dash of bistro thrown into the melange, so we stick with the theme for a cracking mini bourbon vanilla crème brûlée, snapping our way through the brittle carmelised sugar cap to superb and plush, silky custard.

Chef-patron Olivier Queva has never been one to hog the limelight which is why his name may be less familiar than others though he has been doing his good thing in Max’s since he first opened in 1999, and the cooking remains as rock solid as ever, no reinvention of the culinary wheel but who needs to do that if you can keep serving up consistently tasty, good food. His wife, Anne Marie runs front of house with aplomb and curates that very sharp wine list with equal flair.

We settle swiftly and head off into an increasingly wild and blustery night to watch the match.

I presume you heard how that one went?

The Verdict

Food: 8

Service: 9

Value: 9

Atmosphere: 8

Tab: €45 pp (excluding drinks, dessert and tip)

Max’s