It would take Dan Brown to work out what’s going on in Wishbone. It’s where Il Primo used to be on Montague Street, off Dublin’s Harcourt Street. We’re dropping by for some chicken wings. “Have you booked?” they ask. No. Okay we should have a table, the young staff say, and bring us upstairs where there are plenty of empty tables. Then an older manager-type comes over. He has no tables. These are booked, on a Wednesday night. Okaaay. Maybe we could grab a wing or two at the (also almost empty) bar downstairs?
Thing is, he says, with the serious air of someone allocating the last of the food in a post-apocalyptic bar, they’re not sure they’ll have enough wings. Wishbone has, according to social media, been running out of wings. This is puzzling. Chicken wings are not in short supply and restaurants who know what they’re doing quickly crack the whole business of ordering enough food for an average night. Could this be a vinegar-scented marketing wheeze, wings with a liberal sprinkling of fomo?
Whatever it is, we’re winging it around the corner to another new place, one I’ve neither heard of nor read about so it feels like a rare step into the complete unknown. Di Luca is where the old O’Brien’s sandwich bar used to be on Harcourt Street. It’s a businessy stretch of the city. You can gaze up and watch accountants at KPMG work. It being the season of mists, mellow fruitfulness and tax returns, the lights are still on and at least one jacket is on the back of a chair.
Di Luca has a good frontroom feel, with a high ceiling. Then almost everything from the cornicing down has been faked. There is fake bookcase wallpaper, fake bare-brick wallpaper, an original marble fireplace and fake wood flooring. There are fake tombstones on the table, presumably just for Halloween, and an outside deck is covered in fake grass.
But there are proper candles, tall elegant ones and (in a happy bit of serendipity) proper from-scratch cooking on a short menu where the priciest dish is €12. I think we’ve accidentally stumbled on a find.
There’s a seasonal shift feeling to the meal, going from the ripe squelch of an Indian summer into winter comfort. So there’s a gorgonzola and prosciutto salad, leaves that have had spoonably soft cheese dripped onto them in clumps, along with a fig that could do with a bit more ooze but is still sweet enough to cut the salt of the cheese and the meat. Two small toasts of Annagassan crab are a lighter burst of summer and then it’s full-on earthy winter food. There’s a small plate (and, yes, the plates are small here so those modest prices are not quite a steal) of Wicklow venison Bolognese, sweet meat in a glistening, perfectly judged sauce flecked with shards of flat leaf parsley spooned over folds of smooth papperdelle pasta.
My special of wild mushroom risotto looks like soupy porridge someone’s slapped on a plate but what it lacks in Instagrammability it more than delivers in creamy unctuousness. Risotto is a good test of a restaurant. Skip a step or skimp on an element and it shows as risotto wears the quality of its ingredients on its sleeve. Di Luca’s risotto spins butter, onions, stock, cheese, rice and mushrooms into that perfect thing: a classic done well.
A Chianti-poached pear takes the simple schtick to its ultimate conclusion served with nothing more added than a little rugby ball of spoon-sticking mascarpone. I like that they haven’t reduced the wine to a syrup. Although they have larded in so much sugar it’s alcopop sweet, all served served in a heavy glass bowl that looks more like a punch bowl than a dessert dish. A tiramisu is similarly sweet and boozy and there are two Sambucas (remember those?) in espresso cups to finish, a viscous liquorice sip of simpler times.
Two caveats to a hearty recommendation for Di Luca are the music (it’s dire and too loud) and the soulless layer of décor in such a handsome room, like dressing a hunk in a polyester onesie. But they’ve got it right in the kitchen, which is unusual in these days of chef shortages and promising menus that fall flat. So, thanks Wishbone. More power to your wings but we’ll take a nifty supper in a little gem of a restaurant instead.
Dinner for two with a beer and two glasses of wine came to €82.50
Di Luca, 10 Harcourt Street, Dublin 2 (01) 4789049
Music: Terrible
Wheelchair access: Tricky. Some small steps at the entrance
Food provenance: Limited. Wicklow venison and Annagassan crab namechecked
Vegetarian options: Limited
Facilities: Fine
Verdict: Great cooking brightening up an office-dark stretch of the city
