The Schoolhouse

McDonalds, that litigation factory-in-a-bun are at it again. Flushed with success at squashing two big lasses from the Bronx who sued because they figured Big M should have told them that eating treble Big Macs and a JCB load of fries would lead to obesity, the burger kings (lower case) have now loosed their legal eagles on a reputable French food journalist who described chicken McFodder in less than glowing terms. In fact they are suing him for allegedly OTT comments, demanding as compensation the sort of money that would, if McDonald’s were a football club, buy a decent Serie A striker. But wait… support is close at hand for Monsieur McSlagger. Intrepid Jay Rayner of The Observer stood shoulder-to-shoulder last Sunday, daring McDonald’s to sue him too.
Cowardy custard me will not be joining the picket line. Let’s just say that I ate in McDonald’s once and was never tempted to return. In fact there are only three places I would eat a burger in town. One of these is the Baggot Street Branch of Eddie Rockets (somehow less inhibiting for us old-timers than the others). Despite the fact that the service is slower than progress on the Luas, it’s the place to be if you feel like a Burger fix of abnormally generous proportions – the kingsize whopping great big monster mega cheeseburger, or whatever it’s called, is your only man; a few weeks ago it got me through a serious Oddbins whisky tasting. The alcohol clung to it like survivors to a life raft, tribute to the wisdom of the old adage of not drinking on an empty stomach, and I had not a trace of a hangover. More important, the beef was good and tasty, the rasher on top crispy and the garnishes generous and fresh.
Of course the king Dub-burger is the one fashioned by the Elephant & Castle in Temple Bar, a watering hole famed for the size of its portions, the quality of its fast-ish food and beloved of tourists and locals alike. Many and varied are the exotic variations, which keep the burger addict from ennui. The chips, er sorry… fries are deserving of mention too.
Latterly a new contender for burger heaven has sprung up, in a most surprising fashion. The Schoolhouse on Northumberland road is a pub/small hotel with pretensions to gastronomy. There is a restaurant attached on which I cannot comment because I have never eaten there. Yet I am well acquainted with the bar and garden, especially at lunchtime because the location is convenient. I can often be found there, with laptop and mobile phone and a coven of admiring dollies ready to catch every witticism or bon mot (I wish!). Until a short while ago the bar food in this place was so boring that it was not unusual for lunchtime diners to fall asleep and wake up at closing time. Then the owners, initially perplexed by all the zedding punters, had the good sense to call in that bright young chef Kevin Arundel who runs a natty little restaurant up the road. Overnight, the menu was revamped, becoming infinitely more interesting, with Thai and fusion influenced dishes – lovely noodles, backed up by old favourites. I can heartily commend the bangers and mash (Ed Hick’s sausages, I think).
Yesterday, I had the burger, a generous ten ounces of prime meat, nicely cooked to my requested pink-to-medium. It was wholly delicious and came surmounted by a crispy rasher and a wreath of caramelized onions. Pity they don’t have a cheeseburger variant but you can’t have everything. The chips tasted, what’s the word, “real”. Overall it didn’t quite have the élan of the Elephant burger or the appealing vulgarity of the Rocketship but Schoolhouseburger is, deffo, a contender.
The Schoolhouse, 2-8 Northumberland Road, Ballsbridge, Dublin 4 Tel: (01) 667 5014