Bridge Bar & Grill

WHEN I was in full-time, gainful employment, a certain small restaurant in a railway tunnel was a lunchtime oasis. A place where a close-knit corps of magazine hacks celebrated significant birthdays, engagements, promotions, pregnancies, leavings for a better life, and “Thank Christ it’s Monday/Tuesday…” (fill in the day).

After a communal savaging in a morning management meeting we’d take revenge by nicking 45 minutes off the company, giving us time to wolf down Dublin’s best burger and a bottle of wine instead of the usual sarnie and a glass.

Gradually, one-by-one, we left the firm and Frank’s, as if in mute acknowledgement that things would never be the same again, closed its doors.

However Dublin, like nature, abhors a vacuum and it wasn’t long before the place reopened as The Bridge Bar and Grill. As the name hints, the new restaurant belongs to Ronan Ryan and Temple Garner, the men from The Mermaid who took Mitchell’s basement in Kildare Street and turned it into Town Bar and Grill, a Mediterraneanfashion restaurant.

I hit on a ripping wheeze for last Friday’s outing. Stung by suggestions that “They’ll know who you are won’t they? You get much better service than the average punter”, I sent Ruby and Pearl on ahead with instructions to have a pre prandial jar and see if they were treated decently by the serving folk.

DISGUISE

They did, they were and, anyhow, I needn’t have worried ’cos nobody knew who the hell I was (sulk, sulk). My false beard, dreads and Betty Jackson number might have thrown them.

It’s a strange place for a restaurant. There are two sections, a railway tunnel and a “waiting room”, which would be the perfect place to shoot low budget remakes of classics such as Brief Encounter and Murder on the Orient Express.

That said, the “Bridgies” have made the most of it, with comfy banquettes and mirrors that perform the trick of doubling the room’s size.

I kicked off with gravadlax and crab rolls, served with rocket and a posher version of Marie-Rose sauce.

This pseudo-sashimi needs a rethink. The colour ran out of the salmon, marring the twotone effect and the gravadlax completely overpowered the crab.

Les girls shared a mackerel pate, a really good one, with extra toast supplied by the waiter without any prompting.

I was delighted that Ruby, who doesn’t have Pearl’s egalitarian appetite, chose the burger so I could scam some. It came hampered by the EC directive that “pink is bad”. They are quite right, scientifically, minced meat should be cooked through.

The downside is that chefs – and here was no exception – always err on the side of safety.

But Ruby thought it was just fine and, anyway, it was her burger. Pearl had the cannelloni al forno.

When the knife was applied it didn’t ooze the usual pale red puddle; no, the filling consisted of a substantial herbdriven, meat-and-tomato compound the colour and power of a Ferrari. Irish Italian pasta too.

With some misgivings, I ordered pork belly. I’m really fond of slow-cooked, succulent meats but rolled pork belly is going to go down in the history books as one of the all-time great cliches of restaurant cuisine.

This one was excellent. It came served on a bed of “neaps and tatties”, the traditional lowland Scottish pairing of turnips and spuds, with winter cabbage – presumably the green flecks in the creamy mash. I managed to grab a handful of Ruby’s chips – portions of everything were pretty generous. For chipaholics: they were thin ones, from slightly waxy potatoes.

The carte of desserts could have done with an injection of imagination – everyone does tiramisu and sticky toffee pudding.

The latter was very satisfying; richly sauced yet about as light as proper comfort food can be. Afterwards, decent espresso for a change.

Service was excellent. My honesty in pointing out that they’d totalled the bill incorrectly was rewarded with a complimentary glass. This was the house wine, the Italian A Mano Primitivo, which I remembered from Town Bar and Grill and pretty good it is too.

With the meal we drank the white version, A Mano’s blend of Fiano and Greco di Tufo, two under-heralded grapes from Southern Italy. Apples, citrus, figs and table grapes, a luscious weighty mouthfeel – as good a house white as you’ll get in Ireland and fair value at €22.

To summarise, we all loved Bridge. A bit more creativity with the desserts and it would be hard to touch for an informal night out in D2.