Chapter One

Ross Lewis and Martin Corbett have been beavering away in the basement of the Writers Museum in Parnell Square for over ten years now. Yet it’s amazing how many fervent gastronomes are only dimly aware of Chapter One’s existence, if at all. Alas, there is a large coterie of eaters in this city who would prefer to walk from Roly’s in Ballsbridge to Bistro One in Foxrock over a bed of sizzling charcoal than cross the Liffey to dine. Shame on them, and pity, too, for they are missing a treat.

If you’ve not been before I’d suggest you book in for the pre-theatre dinner. Which means eating around six-fifteen. And quitting the place by eight. At this less-than-witching hour the clientele comprises, in roughly equal numbers: a) theatregoers; b) young couples copped-on enough to know a bargain when they see one; and c) people who heard the food was pretty good and had popped in to try it out – you can bet this lot will be back to give the full monty a la carte some welly next week. Eat in Chapter One at six, you become a member of an exclusive but informal club – you might call it ‘Diners with Savvy.’ The e28.50 asked for 3 courses and coffee really is incredible value, given the quality of the food and the delightful ambience.

The theatre crowd gets best value of all, for no sooner Martin finds out you’re booked in at The Gate he dispatches a minion to collect your tickets and deliver them to your table. If you’re tight for time, no matter. Just leave after your main course and return after the show for dessert and coffee.

If there’s a better front man for a restaurant than Martin Corbett, I’ve yet to meet him. The minute you walk through the stylish portal you are cocooned in genuine warmth. What’s more his demeanour percolates down to the rest of the staff – service is correct, but never stand-offish; attentive without being over the top. All seem enthusiastic – I had an entertaining debate with a good young sommelier concerning the merits of Zenato versus Masi’s ripasso wines.

The night we went the food was only superb, creatively presented but by no means outlandish; flavours combining in exciting fashion. My chicken liver foie gras parfait with fig compote was a real winner. I’d eaten Garret Byrne’s blanquette of veal with truffle cream before and it was as good as I remembered, though milady swore her roast breast of duck with celeriac, cocotte potato and sauce Bourguinon took the edible Oscar. The fig compote resurfaced at dessert time to partner a fine baked Ardrahan cheese twinned with a Crozier blue with hot honey, a combination I wouldn’t ever have thought of but scoffed every morsel with relish. Herself then had to defend her gorgeous apple and raison clafoutis with home-made butterscotch ice cream against my greedy predations. I stole a glance at the a la carte, passing up regretfully the far-from-where we-were reared Irish charcuterie trolley and the duck-with-morels consommé but I had after all come to eat off the pre-theatre table d’hote. I even had this mad idea of bunking off to John Conway’s for pints between main and dessert so I could pretend on my return that I’d been partaking of some Thespian culture. However, I desisted, or at any rate was told to desist. No one was hassling us for the table, anyhow. We took coffee in the lounge before leaving, sated, satisfied and smug for the fantastic value we’d got for our 102 notes, which included a bottle of subtly delicious Campo Fiorin red and a half of ’real’ Chablis. Verdict: Get there as soon as you can, you’ll love Chapter One.

Chapter One, Basement of Writers Museum, Parnell Square, Dublin 1 Tel: (01) 873 2266.