It’s like First Dates, like a restaurant you’d find in a hotel, except more sterile. I hadn’t expected this reaction to finally getting inside one of Dublin’s most polarising buildings, architect Sam Stephenson’s brutalist Dame Street colossus, which once housed the Central Bank of Ireland. Our table is the second in from the window, the runner-up prize in the tables-for-two lottery, with a view from one seat of a busy walkway, a service station and waiters hustling past with trays.
The building’s structure is still legible. Steel ribs cut diagonally through the space; the ceiling is a grid of glass echoed by looping timber light fittings and large, glossy plants act as buffers between the architecture.
There’s no offer to take coats, so winter layers are slung over chair backs. We’re perched on the 10th floor, on the enclosed roof above WeWork’s co-working space.
Most tables for two are corralled together here, producing the hush of a space designed to manage people rather than host them. It feels planned and emotionally flat, while the section across the room is livelier, filled with the noise and ease of larger groups. The bare oak tables suit the stark architectural adaptation, but only sharpen the chill.
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Things improve when our waiter agrees to move us to a newly vacated table, better lit and by the window. She says she’ll be back in a few minutes, and she is, which feels notable in a restaurant that otherwise seems like it would find more staff useful. The large bar below on the ninth floor gleams but is closed; the two bars on the 10th have only a handful of people scattered between them.
Díon runs a confident, all-day menu rooted in brasserie territory. It tries to be everything at once, oysters and Dover sole at one end, smash burgers and chicken Milanese at the other. I skip the burger and fish and chips, which read as daytime food, avoid the €120 one-kilo T-bone, and focus on what feels like a proper dinner.
For starters, six rectangular pieces of calamari (€12) arrive thickly crumbed in potato flakes and scattered with black sesame seeds. The coating is greasy and heavy and the squid manages the rare trick of being dry, rubbery and mushy at the same time. The sesame and piri piri dip tastes mostly of tahini, a mismatch that does nothing to lift the dish.
[ First look: Díon, Dublin’s glitzy new rooftop destination in former Central BankOpens in new window ]
A deep-fried globe artichoke (€14) arrives crisp but slick with oil, sitting heavily in a moat of romesco. Any sweetness in the artichoke is dulled by grease. The romesco anchors the dish somewhat.
The wine list is large and orthodox, displaying no qualms about charging for the view. Bottles start at €38 and climb quickly into three figures, with Champagne, Burgundy and Bordeaux doing most of the work. Pinot Grigio comes in at €51. We choose the Macabeo, the cheapest bottle on the list at €38, straightforward and serviceable.
I’m apprehensive about mains, but the acorn-fed Iberian pork chop on the bone (300g, €45) is the standout. Cooked confidently on the Basque grill, it’s deeply browned at the edges and juicy through the centre, sliced for ease rather than effect. The pork has real depth and sweetness on its own, making the red wine jus largely incidental. Expensive, yes, but this is the plate that justifies its place on the menu.
The sides are straightforward. The chips are golden and crisp, served upright in a metal cone, while the spinach (€5.50) arrives collapsed, glossy and well buttered.
Sole on the bone (€50, €12.50 per 100g) is golden and nicely cooked, though somehow it lacks the clean, sweetness I associate with this fish. Roast cherry tomatoes are piled on top, presumably for colour, with the obligatory wedge of lemon.
Nougat glacé is already off at 8pm on a Wednesday, which is odd. We default to the gypsy tart (€12), a salted caramel tart served with vanilla fromage blanc cream. It’s well made and neatly balanced, quietly pleasing rather than memorable.
Díon is a striking room, its roofline dramatic and the view genuinely impressive. But the tables for two feel like an afterthought, and the space works better for groups. On the menu, it pays to stay at the simpler, cheaper end and approach dinner with caution. At these prices, every seat should earn its view, and the cooking should work harder to justify the setting.
Dinner for two with a bottle of wine was €176.50.
The verdict: At these prices, the view shouldn’t be pot luck.
Food provenance: Kelly’s oysters, Jack McCarthy, Manor Farm free-range chicken, Prime Seafood.
Vegetarian options: Globe artichoke and romesco, goat’s cheese and beetroot, whipped smoked tofu with courgettes and mushrooms.
Wheelchair access: Fully accessible with an accessible toilet.
Music: Upbeat jazz and soul.
