Tom Doorleyreviews Saba, Dublin2
There is something spookily familiar about Saba. The smooth young man in the dark suit who carefully scans the booking diary, even though the restaurant is virtually empty, when you wander in off the street and ask for a table for two. The lampshades that look like manic birds' nests. The elderly Russian customer with the pretty young woman. The large mirror that is either falling apart or has been deliberately "distressed". And, of course, the menu. The menu that does a fashionable take on Chinese or Indian or Vietnamese or Thai. Oh yes. And cocktails. Lots of cocktails.
I've seen the formula so many times. Not in Dublin, admittedly, but it was only a matter of time. I've seen it in London, where, to be fair, such establishments are more expensive and much more hyped. And they tend not to last, because, in a city of that size, you have to deliver the goods in spades in order to survive. And most of them don't. Over there, many want to be the new Hakkasan, but few are chosen.
Saba is not particularly bad. In its favour it has lovely waiting staff. But it's not particularly good, either, certainly as far as the food goes.
I kicked off by setting fire to the menu, which is never a good start. Fortunately, my reflexes were firing on all cylinders, and I managed to immolate only a tiny fragment. Apparently, the woman at the next table had done the same earlier, so don't be surprised if the menus are, er, slightly distressed, like the mirror.
Our three starters were a mixed bag. Deep-fried soft shell crabs were - how shall I put this? - crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside and tasted of salt. They came with cubes of unripe, musty-tasting mango.
Skewers of chicken satay (Irish chicken, the menu assured us) were rather dry and came with a sweet and glutinous sauce that lacked any kind of kick. But I've tasted much worse.
Black-pepper squid was good enough for me to order a second portion when I realised that the main courses were rather miserable in size. Coils of tender squid were generously coated in crushed black peppercorns, as an alternative to the usual chilli, and came with a dark dipping sauce that was pleasantly savoury first time round but cloyingly sweet on the replay.
Hake wrapped in banana leaves with red curry sauce is not the sort of thing that even sounds as if it's going to work, but I'm always willing to try something new. In the event, it was worse than the bald menu description. The fish was overcooked and beaten into whimpering submission by the sauce. Silly me.
A spicy beef salad was awful. It comprised slices of meat lathered with chopped chilli, peanuts, lemongrass and sulphurous onion, which may have been freshly sliced but tasted to me as if it had been hanging around for far too long. No amount of chilli can ameliorate the distinctively nasty character of an onion that is starting the unpleasant business of decomposing.
This concoction was dished up on two artistically arranged banana petals that tasted of precisely nothing. Which is possibly why humankind decided, long ago, to concentrate on the fruits rather than the flowers. Perhaps banana petals are fantastic when fresh and eaten in tropical climes, but I doubt it. The banana flowers that blossom out of doors at Fota are unlikely to be scrumped by the urchins of Cobh.
So, there you have it. A triumph of style over substance more or less sums up Saba. And it's certainly not cheap. The bill, including a large bottle of mineral water and a bottle of Grüner Veltliner, came to €99.35, before service.
Saba, 26-28 Clarendon Street, Dublin 2, 01-6792000, www.sabadublin.com
Wine choice
Any list that offers 17 wines by the glass is making an effort, but I can't imagine anyone wanting an unnamed Muscadet (€21/€5.50), especially with this kind of grub. Highlights include the Alsatian Bott-Geyl Riesling (€34), the unusual Basque white Txomin Etxaniz (€36), the very ripe and peachy white Domaine Quiot Châteauneuf-du-Pape (€47), juicy Cantina Zaccagnini Montepulciano d'Abruzzo (€29.50), Condado de Haza (€41.50, which seems rather dear for the second wine of Pesquera, in Ribera del Duero), Ridge's deep and plummy Geyserville Zinfandel (€55) and the utterly delicious sweet Alois Kracher (€23.50/50cl), from Austria. Our Smaragd Grüner Veltliner Domäne Wachau (€29) was a crisp, peppery delight.