Cooke’s Café

Recently I’ve had three memorable meals in Cooke’s Café. The first occasion involved the pleasure of watching former fashion model, now PR doyenne, Sonia Reynolds demolish a seafood casserole that would have fed the crew of the Pequod. Indeed, the portion was so substantial I’m convinced Moby Dick’s kid brother was lurking in the bowl, along with Jaws and half a dozen life-threatening ‘prawns of the Baskervilles’. This elegant wraith sure does love her food.
The next was an ‘invitation only’ lunch – a grub hack’s perk of the kind that makes up for all the naff dinners endured on the rubber chicken circuit. Johnny was launching his new menus, plus a series of themed evenings and, after a brief “Hello,” he went into the kitchen and bombarded us with a selection of turbocharged tapas, beguiling in taste and bewildering in variety. Alas, I had to leave after plate no.7, oh the shame of it!
The third Cookefest was last Thursday when I took Daughter Two, the eagle-eyed front-of-house expert who featured in my Roly’s review last year. She was on her best behaviour but did I detect a furrowed brow as she took in the more technical aspects of the ambience? I think it might have been the wine glasses, I’m not fond of rolled rims either, but at least the vessels were decently sized.
I like the street level room a lot. Situated on the corner of South William Street and Castle Market, it has to be one of the best spots in Dublin for people watching. The décor is nicely restrained, unlike that of the old Rhino Room upstairs, whose unrestrained eccentricity always seemed to trigger Pavlov-like aberrant behaviour in the diners.
Johnny didn’t seem to be in evidence on this occasion. From our mid-room table we could see two chefs grafting away. We observed a slightly frantic demeanour as though they were short a couple of pairs of hands in the kitchen; although it was early doors and the restaurant only half full. On the floor, we were left slightly too long before anyone proffered a menu and this slightly stretched pace continued throughout the meal, a minor irritation, as both of us remarked afterwards.
Nowadays, it’s hard to remember and impossible to convey to younger diners the impact that Johnny’s cooking had on the Dublin food scene when he first opened his doors. At a time when many emerging chefs were struggling to shed the cloak of classicism or make something intelligible out of the signals given out by cuisine minceur, Johnny Cooke gave us our first Cal-Ital and explored fusion’s frontiers, but not in a “Lets chuck in some five spice and lemongrass and see what happens” fashion. His was thoughtful, constructive cooking, well ahead of its time, with a lightness of touch and a reverence for flavour that was refreshing. Johnny’s new menus are in the same vein but more Med-inspired.
Rachel copped for the crab cakes, a sensible choice as Cooke’s are the best in town in my opinion. The Mermaid’s are good, as are Town’s but neither quite have that extra ingredient, that ‘walk along the seashore’ zing that Cooke’s manage to incorporate. For my part I couldn’t wait to get my chomping tackle around the Ahi tuna in Nori seaweed set off with a delicate beetroot chutney, a picture-book starter I’d enjoyed on a previous visit. We’d ordered a bottle of Chablis (e34) from the brief-but-entertaining wine list and as it was decently full-flavoured it just about stood up to the tuna while complementing the crab perfectly.
Rachel, on my recommendation, took the wild venison – last time I had it, it came as scallopini, with a delicious forest mushroom sauce. Alas venison was off – “Getting towards the end of the season” as the waiter remarked. She took the sirloin which proved to be as good a piece of beef as anyone could wish for and perfectly cooked, too. To prove that nostalgia is what is used to be (and it was), I ordered the Ciopino, the same seafood blockbuster I’d seen Sonia devour. There was, as they say “eatin’ an’ drinkin’ in it” and of the finest quality. We also ordered a rocket salad, fresh, spiky, intense and a portion of asparagus, new season’s, at an extra e4 each; spuds, boiled, waxy, especially flavoursome, were thrown in. By this time we’d nobbled the Chablis and Rakes was looking for a glass of red with her steak. I counselled against this saying “That’s e7. For twenty we could have a bottle and I’ll save my half for the cheese.” We summoned up a bottle of Château Biarnes, a e20 Bordeaux of no breeding but, having checked that the 2000 vintage was still available, always a safe bet for hearty quaffing.
Pretty orgasmic stuff, I have to say, at this point but with dessert came rapid post coitus tristus. “Crème brûlée,” rapped out Rachel, ever decisive. “Sorry,” said the waiter. “It’s off.” “Chocolate thingy then.” “Off.” As were her next three choices. A blonde lady who seemed to be acting in a maîtresse d’capacity then came over and said “You look like bread-and-butter pudding people to me. Go on, have the bread-and-butter pudding, it’s really good.” A virtuoso Fawltyesque performance followed – “Go on, you’ll love it!” We almost weakened. But no, we both had a quantity of red wine left, so elected to go for for the cheeseboard. There was a pregnant pause. Then “Sorry, cheese is off.” ‘Off’ was becoming a given so we quit while we were behind; pity really, I bet the bread-and-butter pudding was really good. We paid the bill (e125-ish, ex-service) and lit out in a taxi for Chapter One where all desserts (and dessert wines) were thankfully on the menu. Johnny, to his credit, phoned me a couple of days later and apologised. It seems the pastry chef had shot off back to France to take care of some family crisis, leaving Cooke’s stranded, sans pud. Doesn’t explain the cheese famine though…
After much soul-searching I felt I had to tell it as it was on the night. That is what reviewing is about. At the same time I wouldn’t like to put anyone off going to Cooke’s. I’m going back anyhow – and soon. The flavours, textures, the sheer élan of the cooking make dining there a pleasurable experience. And all restaurants have the odd hooky night, I know. But it reamins one of life’s mysteries that Cooke’s couldn’t put a cheese board together when you’re located a mere 400 yards from Ireland’s best cheesemonger. Ah well…

Cooke’s Café, 14 South William Street, Dublin 2. Tel: (01) 679 0536
Open: L –12-4.30pm Mon-Sun; D – 6-10pm Mon-Thu, 6-10.30pm Fri/Sat.