Cork: Good food, great buzz
THE Minister for the Gaiety of the Nation has had a challenging few years, dealing with a population wavering between melancholia and malevolence.
If he, or maybe even she, was a stand-up comic they’d have died a thousand deaths so glum and put upon, so utterly unmovable were the audience. At times optimism seemed a rare and precious jewel beyond compare, a smile flickering but begrudged.
Nevertheless, the defiance that helped earlier generations of Irish people develop olympian chips on shoulders has stood us in good stead and just behind the dismal facade of recent years lurks the party animal we all know and mostly love. And last Saturday night we — DW and I — visited a dining room full to the rafters of people determined to be happy, happy with themselves and each other, happy to be where they were and happy with the food served to them. And it was infectious.
Over the last while it’s not been unusual to arrive at a restaurant and find it more morgue than mardi gras. Sometimes you arrive to a room half empty and half heated or worse and you know it’s going to be more than a struggle to find the glow that comes from being in an alive, joyful place no matter how good the food and service are.
Last weekend Club Brasserie on Cork’s Lapps Quay, surely one of the nicest dining rooms in the city, was so busy and the atmosphere so very vibrant that, ever before a morsel was served, it was really cheering. Like Flann O’Brien’s bicycle, osmosis worked and the collective lifted the atmosphere to the point that the kitchen had a fair challenge to match the mood. It, I’m very glad to say, did so splendidly.
As is obvious from the name, hosts Harold Lynch and Beth Haughton — 20-year veterans of the business — follow the brasserie philosophy on how to use ingredients and serve food. This is, loosely, a relaxed, stylish but not intimidating place with professional service, printed menus, and, traditionally, white linen — unlike a bistro which may forego some if not all of these. And good, well cooked and, more often than not, locally sourced, robust food. Harold Lynch’s kitchen ticked all of those boxes and then some.
DW opened with what is by now a regional staple — Clonakilty black pudding, warmed apple and salad. It was a generous and fine opening, flecked with chorizo and nuts.
My starter was described as a seafood crepe which, in my head anyway, means a thin, pan-fried pancake folded over savouries, fruits or sugar in one form or another. This was a little parcel baked in a ramekin dish and seemed for all the world like a scoop of fish pie filling redeployed, but for all that, it was good. Nevertheless, it was different, especially in texture, to what I thought I was ordering.
For her main course DW had one of the standards of the house — slow-roasted pork belly with apple sauce. As ever, this was succulent, melt-in-the-mouth gorgeous and as good an argument for slow cooking the cheaper cuts of meat as you’ll find. The crackling, was crisp and addictive — what a pity it is so, em, artery clogging, but what the hell, the Minister for the Gaiety of the Nation can’t do it all by himself.
I chose a sirloin steak — rare — and if every steak I eat over the next 12 months is as good, then it will be a wonderful year. Nicely seared on the outside and almost marshmallow-like on the inside. It was top class and was served with some of the nicest Béarnaise sauce I’ve enjoyed in a long, long time.
The desserts were splendid — a boozy chocolate mousse for DW and praline ice cream with brandy snaps for me.
The wine (€29.50) was El Coto Rioja, as rewarding a rioja crianza as you’ll find at this price point.
This was the first time I’ve eaten at Club Brasserie at night, though I’ve had lunch there many times and I was more than pleasantly surprised at how the place, the food and the atmosphere all came together so attractively. Especially as it seems such wonderful value.
