Dublin Restaurants » L Ecrivain Restaurant

Still, it's not all blood, toil, tears and sweat.  I found a world far away from the "twenty-quid for main, dessert and a glass of wine" cacophony in a popular Dublin Michelin-starred establishment.

Dining in l'Ecrivain, the imbiber, this week's guest, and I perused a carte offering the option of a tasting menu for €90 or two-or three- course a la carte for €60- €75.  Wines started at €25 and ascended to heights weher you'd need crampons, ice pick and oxygen.

The dining room was three-quarters full on a midweek night in early January.  Who are these guys? Old Money? Mattress bankers?  Successful criminals?

The truth is more mundane.  There are still people whom dining out rank as entertainment.  I know six thirthy-something who put money in a pot each week so they can dine together at their favourite (and Dublin's second most expensive) restaurant. For folk like the Dublin Six, indulging their hobby costs an equivalent amount to a Heineken Cup game at the Aviva after you factor in the obligatory ruggery-buggery pints; a ballet performance at the Grand Canal theatre; or, indeed, rather less than the cost of attending a match at Old Trafford or the Emirates.

It is to people of this ilk that an establishment such as l'Ecrivain must direct its appeal, now that bankers and brokers have vaporised.  Here's how.  First, there's the matter of ambience, which translated, means diner must feel at one with their surroundings.  In 2010, Derry and Sallyanne Clarke, l'Ecrivain owners, spent a tidy sum on a makeover that has proved wholly successful.  

While restaurants mus be judged primarily on what comes from the kitchen, the envirnonment they create figures prominently in any success achieved.  To this end, the intuitive cadence of a meal is crucial.  Courses mus be correctly paced and the diners neither under-nor over- serviced.  l'Ecrivian's young waiters positively shone in this aspect.  

Good restaurants also realise that wine is crucial to the dining experience and l'Ecrivain is lucky to have acquiried and retained Martina Delaney, for me one of the top three sommeliers in Ireland.  Anyone dining at l'Ecrivian who is unsure of achieving a harmonious match of wine and food could confidently accept her advice, as we did, prising a bottle of Schlumberger Alsace Pinot Blanc from the list's ground floor.

Confronted witht eh menu, the Imbiber and I did our Jack Sprat - and -Missus things.  He took a meat starter and a fish main, I did the opposite.  As always on these occasions there was an element of clashing forks.  I preferred my John ory and crab cannelloni to his rabbit loin and foie gras emulsion.

Both the JD and the crab were simply sensational, and here is the strength of Derry Clarke's cooking, over and above the pretty paintings on the plate, the modern twiddly-fiddies like the cigars, the foams and the seemingly obligatory geometric vegetables.  He is a chef capable of extracting every last nuance of flavour.

 We both stuck pay dirt with the mains; my companion's skate with pine nut, orange and raisin butter, chervil sauce and inventive artichoke gnocchi was a triumph; my suckling pig, apple gel, almond puree and cider foam was a knockout, too - though I didn't notice the copper pan of braised potatoes until I schoffed the rest.

The imbiber won hands- down when it came to picking desserts.  A lemongrass and lime-leaf parfait with meringue, caramelised basil custard and shortbread cheesecake had me drooling, whereas  I got bored early on with my pistachio ice-cream with cranberry and pistachio crumble, jelly and yoghurt foam.  Too much goin on; a grown-up's version of a kids' party trifle layered up in a glass, the flavours melded into one grainy mess.  Needs a rehink, methink.

l'Ecrivain looked like being in a lose-lose situation when it came to coffee, for I am a nerd and the Imbiber works in the business.  Incredibly, the espresso emerged from the ordeal with a thumbs-up- kudos to the suplliers and to whoever trained the barista.

When we laid our forks to rest, we could still savour with pleasure the John Dory, crab, skate, pork, the lemon and lime.  The bill came and we'd spent a smidge over €200, including the "if you don't like it you can take on the chef in unarmed combat" 12.5%.  I did that intake of breath thing, then calmed down as I figured out how much it costs to procure, cook and serve patrician ingredients while remaining on good terms with the guys from the tyre company.  Message to readers; l'Ecrivain ticks most of the boxes.  If you've got the do-re-mi, give it a go.

The meal proper started with some John Dory, simply pan-fried, with a jet-black olive tuile-biscuit, thin and nicely salty, and a smoked tomato purée. Let's just say that the words 'tomato purée' bore no relation to what usually comes out of a tube.  This dish combined perfectly with a fragrant  Schlumberger Pinot Blanc from Alsace.

Then came some skate, or ray as it's more generally known in these parts, poached but still pink and scarcely cooked in the middle, moist and fleshy. A sharp but sweet raisin dressing, with plump fruit, and an earthy, Jerusalem artichoke purée tiny artichoke gnocchi completed the kind of symphony that few of us would attempt at home.

An despite the fact that artichoke is a notorious killer of wines, the Fillaboa Albarino Rias Baixas melded with the dish in a way that was refreshing in every sense.,

The meal was punctuated at this stage by a tart, but wholesomely sweet, apple granita as smooth as most chef's sorbets.   The topping was an ethereally light and delicate elderflower foam. To describe the next course in detail would take a whole page.  Surfice to say the theme was foie gras and cherries.   The foie gras was meltingly buttery, rich, decadent. One of the cherries on the plate had been cleverly hollowed out from the base and stuffed with foie gras - one of the most jewel-like morsels of deliciousness I've ever encountered.  Other features brioche and a sweet wine jelly. The wine here was yet another triumph of clever matching; a Mosel Spatlese from Max Ferdinand, sweet but with the acidity of a Granny Smith. Perfect.

Then came the meat; a little loin of moist rabbit with its grape-sized kidneys, a sweetcorn beignet, and the leg meat slowly cooked, formed a cylinder with a crisp crust.

A red Burgundy Santenay from Domaine Phillippe Colin, was an appropriate accompaniment.  A slice of rare fillet of beef followed, clearly well-aged, with filaments of slow-cooked beef cheek and sweetly caramelised onions.  Tiny pieces of tender beetroot and, very unusually, pickled cauliflower cut the richness.  A silky, oaky red from Pendedes hit the bull's-eye here.

After a suitable pause, a tiny variation on the theme of banoffee pie arrived in a shot galss; the banana element super-ripe,  the whole thing light and, believe it or not, delicate. A highly unusal sweet wine from the Douro Valley, light and lively, picked up the tropical flavours in this little course. 

The conclusion involved a rich, profound and velvet-textured dark chocolate mousse served with a brilliant Seville orange jelly, which was both sweet and a touch bitter, topped off with a creamy but airy almond foam.  There was a garnish of orange peel in it's own syrup, a little homemade bourbon biscuit and the most amazing 'Jafa Cake' that you can imagine.

There wine combination was superb; Niepoort's 10 Year Old Tawny Port.  The sense of wellbeing, as we headed off to catch the bus home, was beyond description. l'Ecrivain seems to specialise in happiness.

VELVETY
Our 'amuse' was a white onion veloute - velvety as the name suggets, and a fine promise of the quality that was to come.

The Engineer's schallops were caramelised without, just-cooked within, and came with carrots; baby ones, confit and purée - all designed to draw even more sweetness from the shellfish.  My qual was boned and rolled and served with meaty mushrooms and a date purée to add a hint of sweetness.  The best bit was the perfectly fried quail's egg - the white just firmed and the yolk set but yielding on the tongue.

The Engineer's suckling pig came as tenderloin, belly pork with a toffee- sweet skin and a deep fried rillette.  The meat was balanced with swede, purple potato and apple and almond sauces.

My skate was moist and perfectly cooked, but perhaps a tiny bit bland despite the elegant orange and raisin butter sauce with plump raisins and smears of chervil purée to add a musky counterbalance.  A breaded fried frog's leg added a welcome crispy, fleshy note.

The skate was cooked sous-vide-a kind of low temperature boil-in-the-bag that ensures maximum retention of moisture and flavour - perfect for rich meats but I am not convinced it works as well fro white fish.

A yoghurt pannacotta arrived wobbling and creamy alongside a rhubarb sorbet and doughnut.  Peanut parfait, crumbly Bourbon biscuit and banoffee ice-cream offered an overload of peanut intensity that would have cured even Elvis of his addiction to peanut-butter fried sandwiches.

Coffe came with a selection of further treats - the highlights being a rose-petal macaroon and a raspberry marshmallow.

I didn't think I could be surprised by l'Ecrivain after 20 years, but this was very close to a perfect meal with a mix of retro and adventurours flavours and some moments of pure bliss.  Don't wait for a celebration just go.