27 August 2006
Review: O’Connell’s (in Ballsbridge)
It is an ill thing to attend a feast of any sort when one is suffering from the pangs of cold. Were I a professional restaurant reviewer, it would be an even more unfortunate thing for the eaterie in which I would find my ailing self. A cold wreaks havoc to the senses: not only does the loss of scent bring taste along with it into the abyss of infection, but noise appears more irritating and bright lights water the eyes. In such a state the reviewer’s patience tends to be stretched thin and all they can think of is the comfort of their own bed, hugging a hot water bottle. Considering your correspondent’s status last night at a gathering of friends at O’Connell’s in Ballsbridge, the eaterie in question performed remarkably well.
The start was not promising. O’Connell’s is the restaurant of the castle-like Bewley’s hotel in the area, which I would imagine to a large extent caters for the various fair exhibitors at the RDS, as in the case of my friends who had summoned a few of us over for a meal and drink. Due to their day spent setting up stalls and carrying things and smiling at people they reportedly staggered in to the hotel at 20.20 - our table was booked for 20.30 - and eventually emerged after a lightspeed shower and tartup session at 20.45. So I fully admit we were fifteen minutes late. Even so, when the table is booked for seven people, the offer of two smaller tables is not acceptable. Neither was the second option of a narrow table for six which required squeezing in of shoulders (and the men in our company were broad and wellfed) even without trying to fit in the unhappy seventh dwarf. Thankfully, the manager lady quickly suggested that we wait in the lounge while another large retinue pay their bill and the table is cleared for us. Half an hour after we arrived, we were finally sitting down. Our order was not taken straight away despite promises to do so (we had had plenty of time to peruse the menus) but as the restaurant is large and it was packed, and as we were all in a reasonably good mood, this did not bother us unduly. The service started out very slowly, leaving us wait for the drinks for a good amount of time, but it picked up speed as it went along.
The restaurant is well suited for occasions. By occasions I here do not mean romantic evenings for two or cosy gatherings of the three best friends prepared for gossip and wine, I speak of family or business meetings, large birthday or wedding parties, or the like. It is entirely too large and impersonal for the former group. Sure, there is a courtyard - mostly filled with cigarette smoke, these days, if last night was anything to go by - but the interior has been furnished to offend the minimal number of people, which leads it to looking like a posh canteen. Which, I suppose, it in a certain sense is. But the number of people and the size of the place do not simply lend themselves for anything more intimate.
Two menus are provided: a la carte and a montly three-course option. I barely glanced at the former; the August menu contained most of the same offerings for the relatively paultry sum of €27.50 of the three courses. My first course, French onion soup with a thick disc of gruyere cheese floating in it was quickly deemed more than adequate, and it greatly alleviated my miserable state. We noted that part of the purpose of the dish must be to provide amusement for the other diners watching the soup eater. The cheese, namely, stretches like the most stubborn chewing gum in the world, as it melts, will not snap without mild barbarism and has a tendency to get stuck to beards. My husband’s black pudding was tasty in the mouth of someone who normally doesn’t like blood-derived things, i.e. me. The only fault in my soup was Schroedinger’s bread: I wasn’t sure whether any was involved in it or not.
O’Connell’s clearly draws its culinary inspiration from the Irish sod through the Sunday pub lunches. No flimsy, fragile sculptures of supposed nourishment here. Portions are sizable. Main courses, all firmly of the hearty beef/salmon/lamb/chicken school, were accompanied by garlic potatoes, carrot mash and cabbage, which were spooned out to the plates by waiters according to the customer’s appetite. All the side dishes melted in my mouth to such an extent that as I eventually seized my extremely sizable chunk of waterfowl to relieve it of its meat, I found to my disgust that I was rather unable to finish it all. Good, if not particularly juicy, as the duck in wine and orange jus was, it lost out to my husband’s tenderest of tender bloody steak, which I will definitely be getting next time. I don’t recall salads or much of vegetarian food appearing on the menu.
Desserts are inspired. The usually painful decision-making process is made somewhat easier by the fact that for a very reasonable price you choose two, which are then served in small pots. You get the delight of after-dinner sweetness without a bloated feeling. Win. The usual selection of liqueur coffees is complemented by a couple of suggestions for dessert wines and several types of herbal and fruit teas, which I would dearly like to see more around.
After dinner we settled for a while in the large leather armchairs of the lounge, until I decided that my cold was getting the better of me, and my husband and I took our leave. Even after the initial glitzes, we were pleased with the dinner, although O’Connell’s is unlikely to become one of our regular haunts. C. €30 plus wine per person is not bad going for food as good as it is at O’Connell’s. Even when you’re ill.