Review: The Three Qs in Greystones is a great, homely neighbourhood restaurant

W hat words do we reach for when we talk about food? Dan Jurafsky, linguist and computer scientist decodes some. In his book, The Language of Food, A Linguist Reads the Menu, he analysed a million Yelp reviews from seven American cities to nail the things that press peoples' buttons in restaurants.

The most common words in negative reviews have nothing to do with food but were such words as manager, attitude, waiter and bill, indicating that an unpleasant human encounter prompts the urge to rage about restaurants online. The negative reviews also had all the linguistic tics of people describing a minor trauma. They told the story in the past tense and used the word “we” rather than “I” as if gathering people around them in a huddle for comfort. The other intriguing finding was that an online reviewer who mentioned their dessert typically loved it and gave a good review.

A restaurateur might come away from the study with two nuggets. Hug your customers (not literally) and serve memorably great desserts.

They’ve nailed the first in the Three Q’s in Greystones. If this place was any friendlier you’d be telling it to back off. And no I don’t think I’ve been spotted. The lighting is so dim my own mother would barely recognise me if I hadn’t arranged to meet her here.

She’s tucked into a corner table and has been offered bread and wine to sustain her while she waits. “There are 22 people eating now you’ve arrived,” she says, a pro at this gig. It’s a teeny place, a high-ceilinged front room with three steps down to the second level. The window is misted up so you can’t see the sodden night. The room of diners is humming like a well-oiled machine.

It’s an odd name for a restaurant. But the three Q’s turn out to be the three Quinn brothers who run it, Brian, Paul and Colin, according to the website, making me wonder what’s in the water in Greystones that produces brotherly food ventures? The Happy Pear is a pomegranate seed’s throw away. The Three Q’s website also describes it as “fine dining” but thankfully it’s nothing of the kind.

It’s a good neighbourhood restaurant that’s as hardworking as they come. They do breakfast, lunch and dinner here and only close on Monday nights to take a breath. A couple that arrives in as the place is emptying is welcomed with open arms and a table.

They like making things from scratch, such as ketchup and mayonnaise. That means a soda bread with Cheddar and red onion, calamari that don’t have industrial grade lagging jackets of batter on them but a more fragile coating of chilli flecked batter. There’s some Morteau sausage across the table, rubbery smokey disks tossed onto rocket and cherry tomatoes and drizzled with a house-made garlic mayonnaise. The main of the night is the mushroom Wellington. It’s a vegetarian dish presented with two pointy cones of pastry filled with a nutty breadcrumb and mushroom mixture.

Beside it there’s a parsnip and pear gratin topped with apple, onion and freshly-dressed salad leaves, the pear turning up the volume on the sweetness of the parsnip just enough without tipping it over the edge. There’s a brown booze, butter and cream sauce that’s classically perfect.

My rolled rabbit looks a bit like bone marrow with a dark stuffing of black pudding and sage. It’s a wintery dish with just a bit too much chewing to be done on the meat. There’s a sweet potato gratin that would be better without the fluffy regular potato mash at the bottom.

A dessert of Medjool dates swollen to mush with espresso works to a point but there’s some spicy syrup soaked shortbread which would have been better left undrizzled as there’s enough squidgyness going on with the dates.

Dessert wobbles aside, the cooking reaches further than the average bistro with as much thought in the food as there is warmth in the service. It’s been a delight to sit in a room full of happy people on a wet Wednesday. And you can’t quibble with that.

Dinner for two with a glass of Merlot and a peppermint tea came to €71.40.

THE VERDICT: 7/10 A great little neighbourhood restaurant Music: Background elevator type Food provenance: None Wheelchair access: Yes but space limited and no bathroom access Vegetarian options: Good

Second helping... Jess Murphy's fish fingers have grown into a food legend in Galway. She wrote them on her chalkboard menu in her restaurant Kai as a kind of one-off joke. But they have been turned by customers into a much-loved staple on the otherwise constantly changing list. They were made from pollock the day I was there for lunch recently . More thumbs than fingers they're thick chunky rectangles of flaky fish coated in the crispest of panko crumb and served with house-made wild garlic mayonnaise. There's seaweed in the salad that comes with it, but not so much that you'd notice it and great pumpkin seed studded wedges of brown bread too. It's great to see this terrific little restaurant busy on a blustery Monday, a testament to the cooking that's going on in the kitchen.

Kai Cafe and Restaurant, 20 Sea Road, Galway, tel: 091-526 003