River views steal the show

The Hemidemisemiquaver Bar feels like an airport lounge; the food is hit and miss, but those views are worth it, writes CATHERINE CLEARY

TWO ROLLS OF red carpet stick out of a van outside the Convention Centre in Dublin’s Docklands. Spring sunshine softens the concrete skeleton of the Anglo Irish Bank headquarters. Window cleaners further down are pushing clouds around the plate glass with a squidgy. Gliding up the escalator in Harry Crosbie’s Gibson Hotel, two women comment on the view. “That’s hideous,” one says as the rising staircase slowly reveals a bird’s-eye view of the rubble-strewn site.

This end of the Docklands is a patchwork of swank and shantytown, all of it blasted by the stiff easterlies that tunnel down the Liffey from the sea. And yet when you get to the third floor of the Gibson and look out through clear light past the Ferris wheel to the widening river and the mountains, you can see how beautiful it all could be.

I’m convening a Saturday Salon for lunch in the new Coda Restaurant in this Scott Tallon Walker-designed hotel. I’ve booked a table. But it’s not looking good. Toast from this morning’s breakfast sits on the tables in racks. The restaurant has been put behind a thick wall, churlishly blocking the spectacular view. A square hole in the wall that might have let diners look out to the river is set with a mirror reflecting rubbery toast and a crumb-strewn floor.

A waitress, dressed in a uniform reminiscent of the Dublin Airport Authority, goes off in search of a manager when I ask for my table. It turns out they don’t serve lunch in the restaurant, despite taking my booking.

We can, it seems, eat in the bar. I start shifting heavy grey armchairs to make a table for four. No one offers to help. Another grey-clad person starts spritzing the table nearby with disinfectant. Later, someone will start vacuuming. The place has all the personality of an airport lounge without the flatulent thrum of wheelie cases. I’ve just written “airport lounge” in my notes when Frank and Paul arrive and take a look around. Frank gives an identical verdict. Even the chairs are more suited to sitting with a laptop on your knee, as Paul says, rather than sitting up straight to eat a meal.

Anyway, the bar menu looks tasty. There are dim sum and a small list of other good-sounding things. A bubblegum pink Cosmopolitan (€9.50) arrives, along with sparkling glasses, some bottled water and a bottle of Italian Vaja pinot grigio (€30) and things start to lift. Two black-clad young women are striding up and down past us carrying clipboards. There’s suddenly a clatter of famous faces. Turns out that today the hotel is a celebrity airport lounge of sorts, a staging post, where they can don heels, tuxes and make-up before tripping down the river to the Convention Centre for the Irish Film and Television Awards. Hence the red carpet in the van.

The dim sum come in portions of 12 or seven. Frank’s dozen (€12) has four separate fillings, but it’s difficult to discern any major difference. They all seem to contain a generic sausage-y mixture. One in the middle looks paler and is dubbed “the one that got away”. Patsey likes her dim sum (seven for €8), but she got a tasty ginger one to start, so that set a better tone. Paul also likes his goats’ cheese rocket salad with toasted walnuts (€11.50), even though there is no rocket, but some less-than fresh limp lettuce.

My seafood platter is far from good. The oyster is the only thing that looks and tastes fresh. Two rubbery tiger prawns lie alongside some pale pink poached salmon, a small portion of tasteless crab meat, a wodge of cold potato salad and some unidentifiable white fish that looks as appetising as a fish-finger innard after its crust has been peeled. The description “freshly caught” can only be interpreted as meaning this stuff was fresh when it was caught. It’s the worst €17 I’ve spent on food in months. A cheese plate of Milleens, a smoked Gubbeen and Cashel Blue (€8.50) is fine, and my fruit salad with sorbet (€5.50) is also grand. The service we get from a young waiter is excellent, although his efforts are let down by what is on the plates.

As the light fades outside, the place starts to warm up a bit. Patsey has nailed one of the problems. The sunshine was highlighting the dust and smudges on the plate glass and the floor. The polish and sparkle is missing. It’s an architect’s dream colour scheme, grey on grey on grey with splashes of playground colour, Frank explains. But it’s one that only works if everything is as clean as a CAD drawing. When you’re a jewel in a dustbowl, that’s tricky.

It may be that things were under par due to an outbreak of celebrities. If not, there are many wasted opportunities here. How radical would it be to use some of the neighbouring vacant wasteland for raised beds, so the chefs could prepare genuinely fresh ingredients?

The Gibson has two other features in common with an airport lounge. Nothing on the menu is cheap. And there’s a captive audience. Show crowds are Luas-ed here and, once here, there is nowhere else to feed and water them before the doors of the O2 open. Imagine getting a great plate of food in a great location? I’m sure it’s possible.

Lunch at the Hemidemisemiquaver Bar (don’t ask – the staff shorten it to Hemi-demi Bar on the phone so you don’t hang up midway through), with drinks and coffees for four comes to €139.60.

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Coda Restaurant

Gibson Hotel, Point Village, Dublin, 01-6815000, thegibsonhotel.ie

Facilities: Swanky and good

Wheelchair access: Yes

Food provenance: Barely. The cheeseboard is described as "Irish" but that's about as good as it gets

Music: None

Ambience: Better at night

Views: Stupendous. Make it worth a visit