REVIEW:MY LATE MOTHER used to worry about my appetite. She was probably convinced that I would never grow up big and strong and hairy, and she was relieved when I hit 6ft2ins at the age of 15, notwithstanding the fact that at that stage I had, like Euclid's definition of a straight line, length and no breadth, writes TOM DOORLEY.
And I’ve retained the small appetite. The sign of a heaped plate induces in me instant anorexia, and my idea of heaven is tapas-style portions, eaten in a leisurely fashion. The grand plate of dinner is not for me, which is just as well because were it otherwise I would resemble the Michelin man rather than merely looking as I’ve just entered the second trimester.
Speaking of Michelin, Kevin Thornton’s food is now so good that it deserves two stars. Not that I give a damn about such things, but I reckon he does. And if his €25 three-course lunch is not currently the best value food in the country, I have missed something very important.
Having said that, I am dreading the inevitable e-mails which will drop into my inbox. They will say that the food at Thornton’s is only gorgeous but that the portions are mingy and that they had to stop off at Burdock’s an hour later . . .
People like this, and there are a lot of them around, don’t understand food like this. You don’t eat it to fill a yawning gap in your gastrointestinal tract, you eat it slowly and musingly, savouring every morsel, every texture, every flavour. Yes, it’s that good.
Okay, the dining room is still a little lacking in atmosphere (but it’s very pleasant on a sunny day as you look out over the Green), and maybe there’s a hint of sacerdotal reverence in how things are done but, bloody hell, what’s on the plate is fantastic. And at a fantastic price.
So what did we eat? I’ll quote the menu: “Lightly smoked John Dory with brunoise vegetable and gazpacho juice”. This was dramatic – what appeared to be a small goldfish bowl containing the little fillets of fish sitting on a very fine puree of something sweet and earthy with the tiny dice of brunoise and swirling smoke. Sitting aloft, as a kind of lid, was what looked like a sawn-off cocktail glass containing a green liquid that tasted to me of cucumber and fresh, vegetal things. I don’t like theatrical food as a rule, but I was wowed by this.
I liked the contrast with the description of the other starter, which stated baldly: “Braised pig, shallot puree, poitín sauce.” This was, in fact, long-cooked pig’s cheek, dismembered and reassembled, with an intense reduction, into a delicate disc. It was the very essence of meat.
Dismembered rabbit was prettily presented – legs, saddle and so forth strategically placed across the plate, with a very fine carrot puree and a deep, deep gravy enriched with Valrhona chocolate. I’m making it sound rather crude; in fact, it was jewel-like.
Black sole with a Parmesan crust was yet another work of art, geometrically perfect even down to the convex rise of the crust. And this accuracy was reflected, too, in how it was cooked – to the nanosecond. I am ashamed to say that I was so impressed by this that I failed to make any note, mental or otherwise, of what came with it. But I have an idea that there was a sauce based on parsley.
Puddings were in a similar league: a pastry-less lemon tart with a perfect balance between sharpness and sugar, with a cassis sorbet; and a pyramid of fruit parfait clad with crisp slices of fine biscuit and an orange sauce.
We slightly spoiled the economical aspect of this outing by having a bottle of white Burgundy costing €66, but the food was worthy of it.
There has never been any doubt about Kevin Thornton’s talents as a chef. He is one of our very best. But I think he has entered a new, more mature phase, with less theatre and more substance and a happier and more relaxed approach. tdoorley@irishtimes.com
Read Megabites, Tom Doorley’s blog on all things foodie, at irishtimes.com/blogs/megabites
Wine choice
The wine list at Thornton’s is enyclopaedic and there’s no dross. So let’s concentrate on wines by the glass. There’s the flinty Grüner Veltliner from Dr Unger at €9; the almost Sancerre-like Raimbault de Pinet Coteaux du Giennois at the same price; Domaine Roally Mâcon-Villages Tradition at €13, and a seductive Puligny-Montrachet 2002 for €21. Château Pont de Brion 2003 (€11) is an elegant, rich Graves. Ghislaine Barthod’s Bourgogne-Villages (€13) is from an exceptional producer. Yves Cuilleron’s Saint-Joseph “Les Pierres Sèches” is as concentrated as the name suggests. Domaine Cauhape Symphonié de Novembre (€11) is a glorious sweet, golden Jurançon. Our bottle of Saint-Aubin 1er cru “Le Champlot” from Domaine Langoureau cost €66 and was very, very good.