THERE is a famous London restaurant called Quaglino's, where many of today's most celebrated chefs cut their teeth, a restaurant worth seeing and worth being seen in. The closest thing we ever had to it was Brubeck's Cafe in Ballsbridge in the early 1990s, which borrowed more than a little inspiration from the Terence Conran-designed London Quaglino's. At the apex of its success, Brubeck's attracted flocks of celebrities and politicians to dine under its artificial, yet mesmerising, blue skylight. The food, under chef Noel Daly . . . who now runs Coopers on Leeson Street . . . wasn't bad either.
All of this was a long way from a moist Monday night in Dundalk. This Quaglino's, at the top of some steep stairs above a bar called The Century, is not quite SW1 but at least we were able to get there without taking the red-eye to London. The restaurant and bar are run by Pat and Eileen Kerley. Pat is an awardwinning Euro-toques chef, which basically means he adheres to the food practices of his native land and promotes the preservation of those practices. So plenty of potatoes on the menu, I presumed.
We made a reservation for seven but didn't get there until a quarter to eight having got lost in Duleek on the way which, we were told by the man we asked for directions, is "VITAL to the continued success of our housing boom, being home to one of the country's most prolific cement factories!"
The first thing we noticed at Quaglino's was a loud buzzing from the kitchen, which we presumed/hoped was one of those fly killing machines. It was. The kitchen door was open . . . not a welcoming sight. Once past the death machine, we were seated by a mysterious, seemingly mute, eastern European waitress. To begin with, service was a little silent but once we initiated conversation, our waitress was a charmer.
The menu read fairly tame, with all the usual classics. To start, I ordered mushrooms cooked in sherry and cream, rice timbale. A timbale moulds food into a thimble shape. KR had homemade pate on salad leaves. We were the only people in the restaurant and were given the window seat we had requested. From it we watched birds flit around the spires of the Church of Saint Nicholas in the town centre and listened to boy racers scream past, engines and stereos blaring. Dundalk is a nice town, apart from the strange breed of boy racer which exists there: one had 'She Moves Through the Fair' blasting from their speakers.
The mushrooms in sherry were good, really good. The sauce was creamy with a subtle sherry tingle and the rice was cooked perfectly. KR's pate wasn't bad either, although it was a little too chilly and the leaves were the common or garden variety.
Frank Sinatra crooned in the background and all was well with the world, for a while.
Once we'd ordered mains . . . baked salmon filo pastry for KR and medallions of angus beef for me . . . the music took a strange turn for the worse and never quite recovered. Paddy Casey I'm sure is a lovely chap but not quite the songster for an early evening dinner in an empty restaurant. We were on the verge of tears when the waitress reappeared.
"Sorry, would it be possible to change the music?" "Of course." Two minutes later we were tittering to the sounds of "First I was afraid, I was petrified, kept thinkin' I could never live without you by my side. . ."
We'd ordered some potatoes and vegetables as sides with our mains and an extra portion of potato gratin came out too. Too much food! The potatoes were three huge lumps in a dish, nice pratties but inelegant.
Perhaps this was the Euro-toques preservation of native cuisine in action. KR's salmon was faultless, as were my medallions of beef.
The sauce Diane for the beef was superb too.
I had ordered a single glass of Shiraz to go with my main as KR was on the dry. I was given a single-serving, pub bottle of tanninrich red stuff. It brought a pucker to my mouth and I didn't finish it. There is no place for liquid horrors like that in any restaurant.
The dessert menus arrived with no prices.
KR had tiramisu, which could have been a lot better, and I had a nearperfect rendition of Charline vanilla caramel.
As we left, we passed another restaurant feet from where we had dined.
It was almost full and seemed to be buzzing. I thought it a shame Quaglino's had been so empty but I suppose its style is just not fashionable right now, plus it needs a bit of a revamp to compete with the critic's darling across the street. On the other hand, if you're tired of the cutting edge of popularity, drop into Quaglino's, order a Caesar salad to start, follow it with a steak and put it to bed with a Charline vanilla caramel and you'll have a happy belly. Oh, and bring your own CDs.
THE BILL
Mushrooms in Sherry 6.50
Homemade Pate 6.95
Salmon Filo 19.00
Steak Diane 25.00
Tiramisu 7.50
Charline Vanilla Caramel 7.50
Glass Shiraz 4.80
Coke 2.40 1
Espresso 2.50
1 Tea 2.00
TOTAL 84.15
QUAGLINO'S
The Century Bar,
19 Roden Place Dundalk,
Co Louth
Tel: 042 9338567
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