Bentleys, Dublin

[Corinna Dunne]

Some talk about Bentley’s, Richard Corrigan’s new restaurant in Dublin here, and as promised, my Tatler review… months late, apologies. The PR sent me a note to say he loved it… so, the unabridged version for a bit of fun.

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Who does yer man think he is? That Corrigan fella, coming back here, all full of himself, telling people what to do? Him and his chickens and his Great British Menu and his flash in the pan restaurant in Kildare, and now his new Bentley’s place on St Stephen’s Green? Ooh… that feels good. A drop of vintage begrudger’s bile. It’s not on the shelves too much these days, but who knows, there’s nothing like a credit crunch to feed a bitter thirst.

But I sincerely hope not. In the old days, the pursed lips of wise old bats would mutter: “Oh, it takes the foreigner”, smug in the knowledge that this sort of decree would ensure that everyone continued to know their place, and that no gombeen or upstart would attempt to get above their station. But the Corrigan lad from Meath knew better. He headed off to Holland, then London, did his time in top kitchens, earning his first Michelin star as head chef in 1994, before moving on to open Lindsay House in 1997, his own Michelin-starred restaurant in Soho. In 2005, he bought the original Bentley’s in London, a quintessentially-British fish restaurant, gave it the new injection of life it so desperately needed, and re-opened it for its adoring public. He hangs out with the top brass, is loved by his fellow chefs – “he’s a gentleman,” they say – and is adored by London’s top critics, AA Gill included. Corrigan is larger than life and he has returned (again) to his own soil to plug a gaping hole in the Dublin culinary scene, something The Saddle Room in the Shelbourne failed to do. So now, we have Bentley’s Oyster Bar & Grill. A little piece of London with “earthy and uncluttered” Irish food, brought to the Georgian steps of Browne’s Hotel on St Stephen’s Green.

Dylan McGrath was the last person I’d expected to see on these steps (he thinks Corrigan’s food is “simple and nice”, Corrigan thinks McGrath’s “a Muppet”), but there he was, cigarette in hand, chatting to some of Dublin’s better dressed, most of them wearing pink silk ties. “Bar or restaurant?,” enquired the gatekeeper at the reception desk. “I’ve a table booked for two,” I replied. “Number 52,” she directed the hostess, and before we knew it we were ushered into the restaurant dining room. A bit startled at this “either or” approach, and the fact that we had not been offered the opportunity to have a pre-dinner drink in the apparently beautiful Aviator Lounge, we sat, as we were told, at the worst table in the room. There is only one bad table, the aforementioned number 52, and it can be found in a corner, up against a closed Farrow & Ball painted door. It was 7.20pm on a Thursday and there were only four other occupied tables. I eyed up the more desirable spots and saw them fill up with fistfuls of money throughout the course of the evening.

Our menus arrived and no offer of a pre-dinner drink. “Still or sparking?” enquired one of the white jacketed waiters, to which we replied “tap”. There was no surprise or resistance, and our water was poured graciously from a lovely silver jug. So big city, I thought. So old money. And what a beautiful room.

The menu, as expected, solidly reflects Corrigan’s stated values of “uncluttered integrity and honest flavours”, with seafood topping the bill. Oysters are served raw on the half shell, hot in a tempura batter or grilled Rockefeller-style; native lobster is reasonably priced at €18 for half a beast, and the seafood platter, which includes crab, lobster and langoustines, kicks in at €40. There are 14 other starters, which include seafood cocktail, prosciutto with melon, spiced beef tartar and risotto of smoked eel. We opted for Bentley’s fish soup (€9) and the ‘special’, which was described as mackerel rillettes (€9.50). They arrived at breakneck speed, which would have been impressive if we were in that much of a hurry and more impressive if our wine had been there to meet them.

Bentley’s soup is not a traditional soupe de poisson, it is smoother and with stronger notes of tomato, and the bowl I had was piping hot and deliciously well balanced. It was served with croutons and an excellent rouille but no grated cheese (which is the way he always serves it). The mackerel was heavenly. The pâté - shaped into three quenelles - was perfectly pitched: the smoke was robust yet the flavour of the fish came through cleanly. Finished with dill and served with delicate blinis and a light butter sauce, it was a dish that sums up Corrigan’s food. It was sophisticated-simple as opposed to boring-simple. Which makes a pleasant change, because everyone is coming out with the ‘fresh, local and seasonal’ claptrap, but only a few have the skill to transform the lauded ingredients into something that’s worth paying for in a restaurant. Eventually, the wine arrived, just before we finished our starters. A bit of a cardinal sin in my book.

There is a well considered selection of main courses, ranging from salmon fish cakes, fish pie, and fish and chips at the under-€20-level; to lamb mixed grill, Jack O’Shea’s Angus beef, and black sole at the top end of the scale. Given the rants of the man, I had to go for the organic roast chicken (€24). It was a massive portion, sliced and perfectly cooked in a pool of jus (but the star anise was a bit strident for my liking). A foie gras raviolo, which was chunkier in texture and more robust than I expected tasted great, except the filling was practically cold; which was a shame, and a disappointment. But the veal Schnitzel ‘Holstein’ (€35), with a fried egg on top and perfectly balanced sauce was exceptionally good. So too was the side order of chips (€3.90), which came in a classy silver dish.

We were feeling incredibly full at this stage; our portions had been extremely generous, the food had come at a very fast pace, but I was determined to try a dessert. Seeing that we were going to make it through to the third round, and the table was not for turning, the service slipped into the slow lane, and my polite gesticulations from table 52 on the edge of Siberia were hard for the white jackets to spot. But it was worth the wait, because the quivering buttermilk panacotta (€9.50) was soft as a baby’s bum and deliciously silky. The three accompanying blackberries were ripe, juicy and sweet, and the walnuts, with a sweet caramelised sauce finished off the dish wonderfully.

A black suit appeared, the first one of the evening, and asked us if we’d enjoyed our meal. “Yes”, we replied as he swished off to do a quick round, before disappearing from the room. As we waited for the bill, I took the opportunity to check out the ladies’ room (very small, far from impressive) and take a peek into the Aviator Lounge I had heard so much about. The place was buzzing ─ I wondered if it was actually some sort of private members’ club ─ and there were pink ties everywhere. And glammed up women, and a man in a white chef’s jacket. Yes, it was the Meath man himself. He was surrounded. And the black suits that were missing from the restaurant downstairs (no maitre d’, wine advice or schmoozing), were in full flight.

I discovered that it was a party thrown by The Dubliner magazine. It was a night when more eyes were on the bar than the restaurant. And this was a night when the restaurant could have failed miserably. But it didn’t. Despite patchy service and a few glitches with the food, it was an incredibly enjoyable evening. This is a restaurant that is going to be one of the hottest bookings in town. Corrigan may have fallen short on his promise of “a main course and glass of wine for €17”, but he has delivered, for the main part on good food in a great room. Weekend tables are hard to come by, but why not try for one on a Thursday which by all appearances, seems to be the new Friday. Just make sure it’s not table number 52.

[Simon_S]

I really enjoyed that review, Corinna, thank you for posting it here.

I still haven't been, but for reasons I just can't explain I'm biased against the place already. It's not the war of words with Dyl, it's not the fact that this is the restaurant du jour for the D4 set, it's not even the begrudgery that you nail in your opening sentences.

Part of the problem is the only 10 minute segment of "Corrigan Knows Food" I saw where he spoke, in his best thick culchie accent, of a woman who was a "vaygan". He was just short of saying "Shure isn't that mad, she wouldn't even eat a bit o bacon and cabbage, shure". It pissed me off then, and the memory of it pisses me off now, because it makes me wonder what else is going on behind the nice guy image he seems to have cultivated. I'm not convinced by the shtick.

But even that's not all of it. I wonder why I'm not convinced?

Anyway, I have a voucher, so when a weekend table frees up in early 2012, I'll report back from the inevitable table 52.

Edited February 6, 2009 by Simon_S (log)

[Corinna Dunne]

We were in there again on Friday night. I had booked a table for 10 ages ago… but when we got there, somehow the booking they had was for 4. Definitely not my fault as Steve even heard me making the booking for 10 (and had enquired at the time about who was coming).

So, a tough job for them on a rugby weekend, but in fairness, they managed to get us a table an hour later than originally booked. They were very pleasant about everything, but I was surprised that they didn’t comp us a bottle of wine, or something by way of an apology… it would have been a nice gesture.

Again, we really enjoyed the food. I had oysters Rockefeller, followed by the lamb mixed grill – a perfectly grilled chop from the rack, divine slow-cooked and nicely seasoned lamb and kidney – and finished with an orange dessert, can’t remember what it was called but it was an orange version of a chocolate fondant, really light and citrusy with a lovely molten orange sauce and orange ice cream.

Steve started with a smoked eel risotto which was excellent and followed with steak, something neither of us would normally order, but it’s so good in Bentley’s it’s hard to resist. I managed to steal a taste of a few other dishes: the steamed fish in a Thai cream sauce was perfectly pitched and the steak tartare was textbook. So full tummies and happy faces all round.

I think you'll enjoy it when you go, although there are seriously mixed reports about the service there.