Restaurant Review: Corkbeg Coffee is a fine al-fresco spot for a fine day
Corkbeg Coffee, Whitegate, Cork
- Corkbeg Coffee
- Vaughan’s Pier, Whitegate, Co Cork
- Instagram: @CorkbegCoffee
- Opening Hours: Thurs/Fri, 8am to 8pm; Sat, 9am to 8pm; Sun, 9am to 5pm; Mon to Wed, 8am to 5pm
Myself and The Chief Foley were great men for the ‘Sunday Spin’ in our youth, although that really translated as commencing an evening skite early in the afternoon but, now in our dotage, we are off for a proper Sunday spin to East Cork, only a few years shy of also bringing along the flask of hot tea and a tartan rug.
It is a glorious day, brilliant blue skies and a crystalline snap to the air, when we arrive in Whitegate. Corkbeg Coffee is located in a converted shipping container, painted jet black and sited halfway down Vaughan’s Pier, formerly a dock for local fishermen.
With a bijou and funky little set-up inside, it is very cosy indeed. One half is given over to the kitchen/serving area, the other to seating, tall stools nestling up to a counter of reclaimed old scaffolding planks running around three sides of the wall, two of them almost entirely glass, akin to widescreen TVs and all adding up to one of the more glorious window perches to be found in Irish hospitality.
Outside, a handful of tables makes for a splendid al fresco spot on a fine day, but from our window seat, the view is focused, concentrated beyond and out to the wonderful, wide expanse of Cork harbour and across to Cobh.
The scene’s innate magnificence is adulterated by various factories and industrial complexes sited in prime locations around the harbour, recalling a bygone era when planners would sanction a nuclear plant in Newgrange if the price was right… but so splendid is the general vista that even these pre-fabricated metal monstrosities somehow find their place, blending in and bowing down to Mother Nature.
If there is a dish that marks the trajectory of my life in food, it is the cheese toastie. My mother is an extraordinary woman, personally and professionally, but in the kitchen dwelt far south of even mere ‘ordinary’ during daily jousts with her arch-enemy, the cooker. Eventually, she surrendered that role entirely to my father who embraced it with gusto and a zealous allegiance to the deep fat fryer that soon lost its novelty.
So, for most of my teenage years, a cheese toastie with coleslaw was pretty much the sum total of my daily diet, along with endless coffees and pots of tea. It was only later when I began to work in restaurants that I discovered a ‘food’ — and, even then, I continued to eat cheese toasties and do to this day.
I am of a sufficient vintage to recall the first pub toasties — sliced pan, processed cheese slices of Trumpian hue, encased in heatproof plastic wrapping, nuked in a toaster, yielding an utterly joyless eating experience, even under the anaesthetic of porter by the gallon.
But, just as the overall Irish hospitality offering has improved beyond all recognition in the decades since, the humble toastie has evolved to something akin to an art form in the hands of certain culinary practitioners. (Which is why chef Simon Kershaw’s recent talk of reviving his West Cork-based Ron D’s food truck, serving up the best toasties in Ireland, has me all of a lather of late!)
Hence, a toastie on any menu will always earn my substantial consideration, even if I choose another dish; in Corkbeg Coffee both ‘specials’ are toasties and constitute two of three hot savoury options on the entire menu, along with a sausage roll.
My first homemade toasties were made with sliced pan and plain cheese, gradually building up to the old-school classic combo of ham, cheddar, tomato and onion. A good ham, cheddar, tomato and onion can still entice me but the days of industrially produced sliced pan are long gone, now that real bread is so widely available. CC uses a proper hot sandwich press, which further emphasises the inferiority of sliced pan and, without a generous slathering of butter on either side, essential to the creation of any good toastie to crisp up the exterior and add delicious hot, buttery crunch, flavourless bread instead browns to a leathery, bland solidity.
Chicken, pesto, tomato, mozarella toastie is a slight improvement, with a step up in bread standards, though nothing inspiring, possibly cob loaf, but the filling could use more flavourful pesto and seasoning in general, lacking the potency such a combination would normally bring. The crinkled crisps served on the side of both toasties are a tired trope of chain sandwich bars and soulless shopping centre cafés and are anyway even more redundant with a dish that is supposed to bring its own ‘crispiness’.
Where CC currently shines is with its alluring selection of old school home-baked classic confections alongside one or two Instagram-friendly innovations of more recent years, including a ‘Cruffin’, a muffin of laminated croissant pastry, topped with caramel and toasted pecans which is nicely countered by the bite of Italian-style roast of Bell Lane coffee.
The toasties may have disappointed but it is very far from rocket science to upgrade standards, starting with the bread, and excellent Grumpy Bakers’ real sourdough from nearby Midleton is the obvious first choice before checking out all the other genuinely artisan bakers on the Real Bread Ireland website. Then, shopping well from local producers and quality importers to add a bit more pizzazz to the fillings, CC could drastically improve their tight little savoury menu overnight.
Owner-proprietor Gráinne Gormley is a natural host, operating with an easy natural charm that can never be faked, and every detail about the wonderful venue is carefully considered, down to binoculars for up-close scenery grazing and the laidback vibes of a clubby playlist.
Start knocking out decent toasties and myself and the Chief will be taking a lot more Sunday spins to Whitegate.
- Food: 7.5 for baked desserts, 3 for toasties
- Service: 8
- Value: 8 (for coffee and desserts)
- Atmosphere: 9.5
- Tab: €45pp, including selection of baked goods to take away
