RESTAURANTS:Dinner at Glin Castle, a proper family seat, is a treat, writes Tom Doorley
"COUNTRY HOUSE" and "cuisine" are two words that don't often appear in the same sentence. At least not in these islands.
The Irish country house - and I'm talking about the kind of house traditionally occupied by the stranded gentry rather than the . . . er, modern classic that is the dormer bungalow - was always far too concerned with outdoor pursuits to bother much about the finer points of cooking.
True, one or two of the grander houses might employ an actual chef rather than a "cook general" but I can't imagine any Irish aristocrat wanting to lure the great Anatole away from Brinkleigh Court (with apologies to those unfamiliar with the works of Wodehouse) and over to his draughty castle in Connemara.
No. The "gintry" (often with the emphasis on the gin) were never great ones for fine food. An 18th century Kilkenny baronet was asked by his wife if he had had any assistance in drinking a bottle of port. "Indeed, I did," he replied. "I had the assistance of a bottle of madeira."
You can stay in all kinds of "country houses" these days, but most of them don't feel very "country" in the sense that you won't stumble over a pair of gum boots or a superannuated labrador in the porch. And the vast majority of them no longer have any connection to the family that built them.
Glin Castle, an hour west of Limerick, along the estuary of the Shannon, has been in the same ownership since it was built. You get some idea of the staying power involved when you realise that the current incumbent, Desmond FitzGerald, is the 29th Knight of Glin, this moniker being an hereditary honour conferred by the Earl of Desmond who once held sway over all Munster.
Glin is very much a great Irish house and a proper family seat, so to speak, but it offers levels of comfort of which the Knight's forebears, even the very recent recent ones, could scarcely dream. Put it like this. The average Texan billionaire could find nothing to complain about.
Beds are voluminous, bathrooms are vast and, in some cases, there are even dressing rooms. Even the most compact bedrooms on the top floor are likely to be much, much bigger than what you have at home.
I hesitate to describe dinner at Glin as being in the country house tradition, but it's more castle than château, and there's nothing wrong with that. What I mean to say is that the food is kept simple, albeit quite luxurious in spots. I admire this kind of simplicity and confidence, and €60 a head seems a fair price.
Having been seduced by the walled vegetable garden, I nearly ordered the "garden greens and herbs with cherry tomatoes, radishes and a simple dressing". I really like the use of the word "simple" there. No ambitious balsamic concoction or sundried whatnot.
But instead I had a tartlet "of braised onions with grilled goat's cheese and a Cumberland sauce", which may have looked like a slice of chèvre log plonked on top of a little tart but it tasted much better than it appeared. Cumberland sauce with goat's cheese? Sounds weird, but it worked.
Then came garden lettuce soup which was so dark that it looked like pure chlorophyll. It tasted green, too, with an interesting sharpness and saltiness. Very light, tasting very much of itself, but perhaps too heavy on the salt.
I rather envied my neighbours their John Dory with garden herbs and lemon. This can be a great fish, almost waxy in texture, and perfectly suited to both fresh herbs and the sharpness of lemon.
My arctic char was ordered in a moment of wild enthusiasm for the new (although it's a very ancient fish and has been knocking around in our lakes for thousands of years). This was something I have not had before and I can report that its flesh is white, and firm in the way that salmon is. It's perfectly pleasant but rather light on flavour, so I was glad of a well-made hollandaise.
An impeccable crème brûlée, without any bells or whistles, brought this very classic country house dinner to a close.
Dinner is available to residents for €60.
WINE CHOICE
The first thing I noticed on this quirky list was Deutz Champagne at €28 per half bottle, a great bargain in fully mature, serious Champagne. Full bottles are €75. Clos du Bourg Pouilly-Fuissé 2005 (€40) is a lovely, middleweight white Burgundy, Domaine Bachelet Chassagne-Montrachet 2003 is a decent buy at €56, while I would be very tempted to try the dry Loire Chenin, Château de Varennes Savennières 1999 (€33) to see how it has aged.
Château de Carles Fronsac 2003 (€36) should be quite soft and round by now, Delas Crozes-Hermitage 2006 (€28) is dark and spicy, intense but not heavy, and definitely a bargain. The extraordinary biodynamic Domaine de Marcoux Châteauneuf-du-Pape Vieilles Vignes 1993 (€80) is a better buy than the Château Tertre Roteboeuf 1995 at €386.