Le Bon Crubeen brings a second good restaurant to Dublin's Talbot Street, writes CATHERINE CLEARY
I AM COMFORT-SEEKING now. Cosy chairs, crackling logs, something meaty simmered slowly in the oven. Truly seasonal dessert menus would be heavy with stewed apples and plum crumble now. The apple tang from a bag of windfalls has turned our house into a cider barrel. It’s autumn consolation. The sun may be sinking but its bounty is here in spades.
A friend is spending her waking hours in the Rotunda Hospital, where her beautiful twins are busy growing bigger and stronger. If parenthood is another world then being the parent of a premature baby is another planet. And while the care is superb, the food on this planet of weighing and waiting can be plain awful. She is in need of comfort food
It’s time to take her out for dinner in what is, for the moment, her new neighbourhood. We are heading for Talbot Street as I’ve heard good things about a place there called Le Bon Crubeen. It sounds like a class of brasserie/pub. We will be joined later by friends so we ask for a table to which we can add a few chairs. Unfortunately, it’s beside the entrance and a cool breeze curls around us every time the door opens. Could we move? Of course, we’re told, when a table is free. It’s early on a Wednesday night and the place is already busy.
Then a more dramatic change in temperature occurs. Something circulates as swiftly as the nippy autumn wind. A reviewer is on the premises. There is a flurry, a table change and a second menu is produced so we don’t have to crane over the lone one. It baffles me. In these tough times, I can’t see why restaurants don’t treat everyone like a critic.
The menu looks promising. I order the crab brûlée (€7.50) and a main course of confit duck leg with lentils (€12.50). The lentils are described as a puy-lentil lasagne. I don’t ask what this means. This is a mistake. The New Mum orders the smoked haddock chowder (€6.95) and the lamb fillet (€12.50). We order a bottle of Chilean Santa Digna sauvignon blanc (€21).
The chowder is delicious. A classic and simple dish made extra Irish with smoked orange chunks of haddock (the red lemonade of the fish world) and served with a nutty doorstep of brown bread crusted with poppy seeds. It is stand-your-spoon-up thick with cream and fish. My crab is less of a hit, heavy on the cream and egg. It’s topped with grilled cheddar, which might have been nice served hot or warm, but it’s cold.
I’m looking forward to the duck, a dense and flavoursome treat. The meat doesn’t disappoint. Under a heavily reduced (and slightly too salty) gravy, the duck is good, coming away from the bone in tasty brown threads. All I need is to push some soft but firm lentils on to the fork for a perfect mouthful. But here’s where I realise my mistake. They meant lasagne, literally. Lentil Lasagne, not some fancy layering effect with lentils and vegetables. This is comfort food brought beyond comfort to the point of stodge. The too-few green nuggets are snuggled under duvet-thick layers of pasta and béchamel sauce. It’s also a twist on a classic that needs no twist, something you might make at home with leftovers and resolve not to try again.
New Mum’s lamb is tasty but a touch over-done for the medium she requested. By now the friends have arrived and two of them order whiting and chips (€12.50) and a portion of lemon sole (€12.95). The whiting is fresh and good but has been balanced on the chips, leaving them slightly soggy underneath, or “mushified”, as someone describes it. The lemon sole is light and tasty, with steamed vegetables. The wine is delicious and more bottles are ordered. There is much to talk about.
We marvel at the price of a dessert made with Toblerone, selling for €12.50. “That money would go far in the bedding department of nearby Guineys,” is one comment from the table. It’s a dessert cocktail with plenty of varieties of booze in it. We go for a crème brûlée (€5.95) and two spoons, while someone else tries a warm and molten-in-the-middle brownie (€5.95) and a good cheese plate for one (€7.50).
New Mum dives into the crème brûlée, tapping the perfect crisp carmelised sugar lid to reveal scrumptious pale yellow custard flecked with the telltale specks of proper vanilla. “It’s the best crème brûlée I’ve had in ages,” she says, admitting that it’s been a long nine months since she was allowed such a treat.
Le Bon Crubeen is doing plenty of things well, reinventing an old Irish pub for a new generation. But they need to cull the lasagne. Even bistropub diners like lentils these days.
Dinner for two with a bottle of wine costs €68.60.
LE BON CRUBEEN
81-82 Talbot Street, Dublin 2, 01-7040126
MUSIC: Pub rock, a little too loud at times
DISABLED ACCESS: Yes
FACILITIES: Good
SERVICE: Friendly and efficient
MENU’S FOOD PROVENANCE: No information apart from a lone “Irish” beside the sirloin steak
