A hit on the road

I LOVE the idea of the Wild Honey Inn.

Jutting onto the Kincora Road, just a stone’s throw from the matchmaking capital of the western world, here is a family business going out of its way not to serve stodgy paninis, boot-heel burgers and loveless seafood chowder.

Not that Lisdoonvarna is a foodie vacuum. It’s just that roadside stops — the first thing I think of when I hear the word ‘inn’ — are not Ireland’s strong point. With the exception of one-offs like Harry’s in Bridgend, the improving Yeats Tavern in Drumcliffe, or blink-and-you’ll-miss-’em gastro pubs like the Ballymore Inn or the Derg Inn, they are vortexes of poor food and bad value.

The Wild Honey Inn is different. Its sage green façade and wraparound conservatory make an old Victorian building seem quirky and welcoming. Its name evokes the wildflowers that burst forth from the Burren in April and May. Then there’s Aidan McGrath, a veteran of Adare Manor, Sheen Falls and the Lodge at Doonbeg, and Georgina Campbell’s chef of the year for 2011.

Not exactly the credentials you’d expect to find in a pub in the depths of a west Clare winter, it’s fair to say. And so, with the rain teeming down and even the sheep seeming to grit their teeth at the unrelenting nastiness of it all, I step inside to see if the idea works in reality.

The bar is earthy and cosy, illuminated by the hot orange throb of a stone fireplace. A stand-up piano, lashings of wood and colourful splashes of pottery add to the intimacy. A little crowd is chatting at the bar, McGrath’s wife and daughter are waiting tables in pink T-shirts and blue aprons with Wild Honey logos, and the stereo segues from Springsteen to the Doors.

It’s lunchtime, and the choices on a light winter menu include Liscannor crab claws (€9.50), a Caesar salad (€6.90), an open crab sandwich on soda bread (€13.90), a croustade of mussels (€8.50), a homemade Angus burger (€12.90) and, the most expensive item on the day, pan-fried haddock and chips with sauce gribiche, rather than tartare (€15.50).

Modern bistro cooking, McGrath terms it, and the dinner menu adds a Hereford rib-eye, pan-roasted organic salmon and a roast breast of chicken with poached leeks and wild mushroom.

First up are the mussels, served piping hot in a white ceramic skillet. It’s a starter portion, with lots of buried treasure beneath the cheesy crust — a saffron-tinged velouté, broad beans, wilting spinach and little bits of tomato, still firm enough to provide a bite. The Doolin mussels themselves are small, chewy and flavoursome — all in all, a tasty winter warmer.

Next comes the burger, which arrives in a floury bap with a crunchy leaf of lettuce, red onions, a mustardy dollop of mayo and a little glass bowl of chips. The chips are a bit disappointing — perfectly edible, but sadly, perfectly forgettable, the kind of side you’d get in any pub in the land.

The burger itself, however, is a gem. McGrath mixes the Angus beef with egg, garlic and hints of ketchup, Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce, resulting in a tangy taste and a texture that just sort of disappears between the teeth.

That’s impressive, considering it’s served on the lingering side of medium. Burgers are everywhere; good burgers like these are not.

It can’t be easy building a national profile from a town best known from a Christy Moore song — not least in the off-season.

The Wild Honey Inn was the first pub in Ireland to win a Michelin bib gourmand (awarded for good food at moderate prices), but McGrath says he has only ever been reviewed once before in Ireland, by Aoife Carrigy for Food & Wine.

A light lunch only gives a flavour of a place, so I’m not sure whether this should count as his second. It is, however, enough to get a feel for quality, and thankfully, the Wild Honey Inn matches the romantic idea I walked in with.

After a coffee for the road, I push the door open, and the rain hits my face again.

But I’ll be back for dinner.