Is Mint unique in Dublin? Possibly, because it's small and suburban but eminently stylish. And the food, formerly by Oliver Dunne and now by Dylan McGrath, has been enchanting the discriminating for quite some time.
int regulars speak of it in the same hushed tones that are usually employed to describe the Big Four: Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud, Thornton's, L'Écrivain and Chapter One.
Dunne will be opening his new Bon Appetit restaurant, in Malahide, Co Dublin, later this month, while McGrath, a protege of London's Tom Aikens, seems intent to engage in culinary pyrotechnics in Ranelagh.
Although nobody could describe Dunne's cooking as simple, it was certainly confident and mature. McGrath's food, on the other hand, is very ambitious, as if he wants to showcase all his talents on one menu. Fortunately, the man has a lot of ability. This degree of ambition would be nightmarish in less capable hands.
It's always going to be a bit exhausting to eat a dinner that's clearly designed to take Dublin by storm, but our meal was seriously good. The odd Aikens flourish - such as smudging and smearing sauces - made for busy plates, but, overall, the attention to detail was outstanding.
I don't know why I order scallops. I think I was seriously impressed by them only on one occasion (and that was at home). McGrath did his best. They were plump and perfectly cooked (not with the fashionable jelly-like consistency that means the chef is scared of overcooking them), and what they lacked in flavour was made up for by a slice of very tender belly pork and a sweet but sharp onion puree. So far, so adequate.
Lobster was presented as a work of art, centred on the head. Here the flesh was a shade underdone, but it combined very pleasantly with a tiny serving of pea soup. A claw was presented separately in crisp tempura batter (a beignet, according to the menu) with a pea puree.
This starter was delightful to behold and no hardship to eat, although the €15 supplement was irksome. And the peas were fresh (that is, rather starchy). Fresh peas need to be eaten within two hours of picking; otherwise, frozen is better. My granny knew this; chefs seem not to.
The bald phrase "pig head" on the menu is probably not going to attract many takers, but it hooked me. Although the plate was a little too like a Jackson Pollock painting, and all that carrot puree looked like a frenzied crime scene, the braised pig's cheek was tender and delicious. Some of it was incorporated into a kind of mousseline, sandwiched between two slices of just-cooked celeriac as a "lasagne", according to the menu. Larger pieces were put on top, with two slices of tender stuffed trotter in between.
Loin of lamb eschewed the fashion for serving it essentially raw; it was, instead, a deep pink, and it was served in a couple of slices aboard a combination of borlotti beans, tomato and aubergine puree.
A dessert of orange parfait with orange jelly and toasted pain d'épices crumbs was superb. On the other hand, "mango foam with coconut ice cream, lime foam and mango sorbet" was even more complicated than it sounds. But it tasted bloody good.
Mint is a very pleasant experience. From the moment you enter and a trolley of iced champagne appears at your elbow (elegant upselling) you know this is a place that will pamper you, at a price. When the amuse bouche arrives, any remaining doubts about the effort that goes into the grub evaporates. And by the time the meal is over you feel satisfied and happy, having witnessed a talented chef showing off, albeit somewhat callowly.
Dylan McGrath is cooking exceptional food, and he clearly wants to make a name for himself. If he could relax and match his skill with a commensurate degree of confidence it would be even better.
The bill, including a couple of glasses of champagne, at €13 each, a bottle of red burgundy, at €60, coffee, petits fours and a lot of mineral water, came to €257.
Mint Restaurant, 47 Ranelagh Village, Dublin 6, 01-4978655
Wine Choice
Cattier Champagne (€13 a glass) is mainly Chardonnay and very delicate. The Volnay Domaine Carré-Courbin 2003 (€60) was a knockout: unusually ripe Pinot fruit underpinned by racy acidity, with a lengthy finish. Highlights of this carefully chosen, rather French and decidedly expensive list include Yann Chave Crozes-Hermitage (€53); Pierre Usseglio's huge Châteauneuf 2003 (€80); Hewitson Riesling (€40), from the Clare Valley; Lamy's buttery Saint-Aubin en Remilly (€67); Meyer-Fonne's Alsace Gewurztraminer (€47); the austerely wonderful Clos de Coulaine Savennières (€47); and the plummy Qupe Syrah (€57), from California. Domaine Talmard Mâcon-Uchizy (€37) is €1 dearer than at Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud.