Tom Doorley reviews the Port House, 64a South William Street, Dublin 2, 01-6770298
In the light of the raging controversy over the use of the phrase "British Isles" in the letters column of this newspaper (where I'm inclined to side with Prof John A Murphy), I hesitate to refer to Joanna Blythman's book Bad Food Britain. But, when it comes to awful grub through the medium of English, I'm afraid that we are at one with our neighbours on the larger island.
Blythman implies that the "cash rich, time poor" argument in favour of convenience food is, in fact, a kind of status assertion. Essentially, this means that if you don't have time to cook decent food you must be somehow "important". You spend what little leisure time you have watching TV programmes about food, and you may even buy fashionable cookbooks but you simply can't find the time to cook.
This is what fuels the market for chilled ready-meals, a category of food which enjoys huge commercial success because such stuff appears to be fresher than frozen food. However, frozen food is always, curiously enough, fresher and more nutritious than meals which are designed with maximum "fresh" shelf-life in mind.
This has been exercising my mind because I've been considering the question of how we eat now. Apart from the regrettable tendency not to cook anything from scratch, we are certainly well beyond the notion that we must have starter, main course and dessert. This, in itself, is not a bad thing because we are naturally inclined to eat rather more than our generally sedentary lifestyles can justify.
But restaurants are still stuck in the three-course rut. Eating out simply does not reflect how we like to eat at home. The fact is that we like to graze.
And this is where tapas come in to the picture. Never mind the fact that many Spaniards regard these little dishes as nothing more than a kind of grand starter, preparatory to the big blowout. Tapas, for me, are how I would like to eat in an ideal world: a series of small dishes, full of flavour, which can be ordered in a rather profligate manner; and there is never any shame in ordering yet another Little Something, as Winnie-the-Pooh would put it.
Good tapas are very rare in Ireland. We simply don't understand the concept. They are worth a detour at Barca in my local town of Lismore, but they are simply marvellous at the oddly-named Port House in South William Street, Dublin 2.
This very dark, subterranean establishment was packed on the Monday evening when we visited. We kicked off with a meat platter which included fairly ordinary chorizo and serrano ham but also a generous helping of superb pata negra, the raw ham that is the nectar of the Spanish gods. And then we ordered a selection of bits and bobs that completely covered the table. There was tender squid in crisp batter with good garlic mayonnaise; slices of chorizo stewed in red wine; firm and fresh tortilla (the original potato omelette); tender slices of octopus (or pulpo); little chicken wings seasoned with lip-stingingly hot piri-piri; and a few pinchos. These included salty slices of rare beef on garlicky bread, flatcap mushrooms oozing garlic butter and pinkly-cooked foie gras on toasted bread.
All of these little dishes were packed with flavour and were very good. But they were as nothing compared to the sweet options. A little pot of rich, creamy rice pudding was refreshingly cut with the almost citrus-like flavour of fresh cinnamon, while sugar-encrusted churros served with a tiny cup of melted bitter, dark chocolate was one of the best things I've eaten in ages.
We prefaced our grazing with a taster glass of chilled fino and a plate of green and black olives swimming in excellent olive oil (which was mopped up with indifferent bread), and had a bottle of smooth, oaky Ribera del Duero with the rest. The bill came to just over €90. The food was served with consummate charm.
Wine choice
The Port House offers wines at two prices: to take away and to drink on the premises. This is a good idea in that there are several wines which you won't get elsewhere. These include the crisp Basque white Arregi Getariako Txakolina 2005 (€14/€21) and the fleshy Mentoste Rioja Reserva 1997 (€19.50/€26.50). Our Protos Crianza from Ribera del Duero (€15/€22) was soft and oaky and cheaper than house wines in many pretentious establishments. Sherries come from Bodegas Romante and our fino was pleasant, if not quite as fresh as a daisy (€5.30 for 125ml or €4 for a taster). There are plenty of ports including Dow's decent Ruby (€4.50), Warre's Otima tawny (€5.80) and their lovely Quinta de Cavandinha 1999, for €8.30 a glass or €44 a bottle, on the premises.
