EATING OUT:UPON ENTERING, we encountered a pan – I'm sure that's the collective noun – of restaurant critics from a well-known food magazine, enjoying a rather good lunch, if contented countenances are anything to go by, and for a moment I thought that it was going to be a case of reviews at dawn. As it transpired, I was the only man on the job; my peers were luncheoning to mark the departure of one of their number for tables new, their offices being close by.
For the Harvey Nichols maitre d’, Michael Andrews, this was possibly a little stressful. He did a double take on spotting us, glancing at the other table of professional fault-pickers and then back again, blanching slightly. But ever the professional, he rapidly regained his composure as he greeted us, rather unfashionably, with warmth, a genuine smile and a complete lack of air-kisses – this is why we like his style.
As custom was lean, possibly due to the good weather, or perhaps because of a drop in retail footfall of late, we chose a sunny table for two, by the window. The First Floor Restaurant at Harvey Nichols is, unsurprisingly, a style-conscious destination – zany, yet pleasing, architecture; yards of crisp white linen; a steady concerto of “still or sparkling” plinking into spotless glasses; impeccably dressed food; and the low hum of middle-of-the-road, yet up-to-the-minute, electronica drifting through the room.
On my last visit, I had the pleasure of Heston Blumenthal’s company. I joined the grand gastro-eccentric for a frankly disappointing breakfast of coffee and toasted ham and cheese sandwiches – I had been hoping for snail porridge and liquid nitrogen. Still, he seemed to enjoy the Harvey Nick’s experience, as did I.
Service, on this occasion, was just as attentive, warm and professional. To start, my companion had a zingy fresh and all-in-all very enjoyable potted Howth crab, with avocado and lime (€9.95), accompanied by a glass of HN’s non-vintage (and non-cheap) Champagne (€16.50). For me, an extravagant rendition of aged beef carpaccio that I enjoyed, although I thought it was unnecessarily over-tweaked: the accompanying Parmesan cream and balsamic jelly would have worked so much better just as, well, slivers of fresh Parmesan cheese. There has to be a vast improvement if you are going to start messing about with simple classics, and that was not the case here.
For main courses, a 10oz sirloin steak with chunky chips and Béarnaise (€24) for me, and grilled marinated spiced tuna with coriander rice, mango chilli and a lemongrass chutney for my partner in dine. The sirloin, sadly, was a sinewy chew-fest, that wasn’t made up for with much flavour either; I should have gone for the rib-eye, which is typically less of a gamble (€22). The chunky chips were okay, if a tad dry. The Béarnaise was textbook, fresh tarragon kicking nicely through creamy tartness. My partner’s tuna was altogether a hit, perfectly cooked, boldly seasoned and cleanly complemented by mango and lemongrass – an accomplished composition.
Desserts were both well-executed. My guest ordered a warm chocolate Génoise, with almond and pistachio praline and pistachio parfait. My iced nougat, glazed raspberries and honey cheesecake was cool – although raspberries don’t actually come into season until May. Desserts are priced at €7 each with a €5 supplement for the cheeseboard.
The silent, yet once relentless, trudge of Ugg boots and shopping bags seems to have receded somewhat at Harvey Nichols in the Dundrum Town Centre, but gastro-therapy is still very much alive. Next time, however, I think I shall try the three-course table d’hote option for €24.50 – that seems like the most fashionable, and sensible, thing to do.
Lunch for two with aperitifs, coffee, and a 12.5 per cent service charge, came to €134.61. ehiggins@irishtimes.com
