Please stop cheffing about, writes Tom Doorley after a visit to Jacob's Ladder, Dublin
I suppose the reason that the view from Jacob's Ladder on Dublin's Nassau Street seems familiar to me is the huge amount of time I spent, as a Trinity undergraduate, drinking coffee and munching buns in the Kilkenny Shop. It was there, indeed, that I became acutely aware of split infinitives, being sharply admonished, over a custard slice, for using one. The admonisher went on to head the Arts Council, I think, where such syntactical rectitude is probably frowned upon. Oops! There I go ending a sentence with a preposition.
Anyway, I was munching my way through a pretty unmemorable meal at JL, gazing out in the general direction of College Park where, in the days of my youth, I had played such a pivotal role in the many victories of the TCD first XI - by applauding quietly from the steps of the Pavilion, as Peadar, the unflappable barman, replenished my constant glass of cool, amber Suduiraut '21, and my silver bowl of early strawberries.
Alright. Perhaps the old memory isn't quite what it used to be, but nor was my recent dinner at JL one that will be burned into the deepest recesses of the mind.
Actually, the grub was a mixed bag. When I declined a starter, it was suggested that I might like a simple green salad. And it was very good: fresh, green, nicely mixed, sensitively dressed. This is a great deal rarer than you might think.
The companion's starter sounded like a yawn from start to finish. Scallops. I mean, when were you last utterly seduced by a scallop? But these were good, as scallops go. Their simple cooking (in a pan for just long enough) did them justice but the accompanying shreds of raw mangetout were superb, dressed very lightly with a touch of raspberry vinaigrette and enhanced by arbequena shavings. (Yes, we too had to ask. This was very fine Spanish olive oil, frozen and shaved into little scoops with what I assume was the point of a teaspoon. It sounds silly but it worked.)
My main course of - and I quote - "roast courgette stuffed with walnuts and red peppers, orange and ginger couscous, goats' cheese raviolo, basil foam" was not as good as it sounds. Assuming, of course, that any foam sounds good.
I grow courgettes. Or rather, I plant them and they grow themselves. Thousands of them. All the bloody time from early May (in the polytunnel) until November. Nurtured with masses of organic material, they still don't taste of much. This is why I partner them with strong flavours and barely cook them.
It's also why I wanted to see what the kitchen at JL would do. Not a lot, in terms of flavour, but there was much cheffing about: the courgettes were presented as sections of cylinder, standing upright on the plate. And there was, of course, a degree of foam.
The courgettes themselves tasted of water which, to be fair, is what nature intends them to do. But the pepper and walnut stuffing, with a texture reminiscent of Organix baby food, didn't taste of much either. And the couscous may have tasted vaguely of orange but the ginger had got lost somewhere. And it was cloyingly sweet.
Turbot was okay but the fiddling about did nothing for it. A "crispy noodle cake" (dear God!) was sweet, not very crispy and, let's be frank, a pretty daft thing to do to a bunch of defenceless noodles. Asparagus was out of season and probably from Peru, and the foam, since you ask, was rhubarb and ginger. Foam is currently The Big Thing. It must have something to do with the cappuccino society.
We shared a plate of cheese slivers, all in good condition as slivers go, but at a rather un-slivery 9.50. Service was attentive, perhaps too attentive. Being interrupted in mid-sentence gets a bit irritating on the third occasion.
Mind you it was better than the snatches of corporate conversation from nearby tables. This included the memorable: "Oh yeah, he's a very big beast in our part of the jungle." The bill came to 141.45, which struck me as being on the big side of beastly.
Jacob's Ladder 4-5 Nassau Street, Dublin 2. (01-6703865). Tues-Fri 12.30-2.30pm. Sat 12.30-2pm. Dinner: Tues-Sat 6pm-10pm.
WINE CHOICE Decent enough house wines range from €21 to 24, all available at 4.75 a glass. The short list is strong on white Burgundy although the only names I recognised - Darnat, Magnien and Servin - were at the dearer end. Some unusual stuff like the lovely Peel Estate Verdelho from Western Australia (40), Mora Toro Semicrianza (39.50), and the glorious Chianti Classico Castello di Fonterutoli (€42.50). Camparo Barbera d'Asti is lovely, juicy stuff, but stiffly priced at 36.50. Our Waimea Riesling (36.50) was steely, dry and stylish. Overall, a list that shows some thought, but prices are high.