Eatery 120

I suppose it was bound to happen. Given that the downturn of the financial climate has escalated dramatically it was only a matter of time before the knock-on effect reached the hospitality industry. Alas, Cooke’s Café, in its various guises, so long a feature on the corner of Clarendon Street and Castle Market, appears to be the first casualty.

I’ve long been a fan of Johnnie Cooke’s culinary talents. No one had heard of ‘Cal-Ital’, that joyous take on Mediterranean cuisine until Johnny came romping back from California and opened his restaurant. He put instant sunshine into our dining experience. He had an amazing way with fish and his Caesar salad was always a benchmark. Many chefs around town ate his food, copped on and started to move away from the heavy, traditional French inspired style then in vogue. In his own inimitable way, he was a mould-breaker.

When I was with ‘Food and Wine’ I used to style a ‘how to’ session with Johnnie. It was not without its trying moments. The photographer, up on a ladder with five g’s worth of camera equipment suspended over a pot of steam and Johnny saying “Can you get a bit closer”. Sometimes he’d say things like “We need a bechamel. Ern, you know how to make a bechamel,” at which point he’d go walkabout. On one occasion I nipped back to the office, returning to find he’d substituted caviar for lemon sole – “But my readers don’t eat caviar” I protested. “Everyone eats caviar” was his riposte, not leaving room for argument. Anyhow, enough reminiscing. Come back soon, John and wow us with your cooking again.

Strolling down Ranelagh, which I hadn’t done for some time, I noticed that the Chew’n'Chat, one of Dublin’s undervalued pizza joints, had gone too. That apart, the place seems as busy as ever. Even on a Tuesday night most of the restaurants seemed up to quota. Starving at this point, I did an ‘eeny-meeny, miney, mo’ and nabbed a table for one in Eatery 120.

Waiting for my starter, I took time out to watch the waiting staff moving between tables. It struck me that they were a tad too brisk at lifting plates as soon as guests had put down their knives and forks. What’s more, the next course arrived hot on the heels of the previous. Yes, I know restaurants have to turn over tables in order to make money but this sort of caper gets right up my nose.

Anyone heard of ‘Boston prawns’? I hadn’t, Boston beans yes. Whatever, I took the Boston prawn cocktail, a blackboard special. It was, of course, wholly retro with its Marie Rose sauce, green bits and brown bread. A generous portion of small tasty prawns in an elegant glass told me I’d made the right decision. A glass of Kiwi sauvignon blanc coped with the Marie Rose.

Autumn was closing in fast, so what better than a heart and belly warming dish of Daube de Boeuf to follow? It appeared promising, a large hunk of beef in a rib-sticking jus, sitting on a bed of what proved to be exceptionally good mash, generously speckled with caramelised pearl onions. Starved, I was half way through it when I began to notice a discordant taste – something like the smell you get when you get your hair too close to a flame or the taste of meat scraped off the bottom of the pot after carelessly cooking a casserole just beyond the point where the liquid dries out (it happens!). It wasn’t entirely offensive, but did nag at me. I suppose I should have sent it back but I was tired and not in the mood for debate. I couldn’t see anyone else having the boeuf; it would have been good to be able to compare notes. A good few gulps of robust South Australian Shiraz from Coriole, a winery I’ve twice visited, muted the singed flavours somewhat.

Dessert lifted me up again. As you probably know by now I am a total panna cotta freak. It’s not hard to make, I do it quite a lot at home. Yet it really is surprising how bad this ‘cooked cream’ can be in restaurants. Liquid ones, jellied ones, cornfloury ones, grainy-like-semolina ones, the nasty variations are infinite. This rose water panna cotta, served with small, sweet fresh strawberries and a coulis of the same fruit was as good as it gets. Finally, hooray, for Eatery 120′s espresso, possibly best I’ve enjoyed in an Irish restaurant.

On the way home I agonised long and hard over how much ‘grief for the beef’ I should dish out. I came to the conclusion ‘not a lot’. I should have complained, so serves me right. Let’s be charitable and say it was a one off. At the same time, the over-hasty service doesn’t exactly make for a relaxing evening. To sum up, Eatery 120 majors on plain-ish mainstream food crafted from honest ingredients – suppliers are listed on the menu. Dinner for two with a bottle of modest wine would weigh in at about €125. At this price point there’s a lot of competition. Despite doing a lot of things really well, the place has to sharpen up its act if diners are to say “Eatery 120, you gotta go there”.

The damage €67 inc tip for 3 courses, 2 glasses of wine, coffee

Ambience: ***1/2
Quality: ***
Service: ***1/2
Value: ***
Overall: ***

Eatery 120, 120 Ranelagh Road, Dublin 6 Tel: 01 470 4120