Campagne offers rustic food in the best sense of the word - you could travel a long way in France before you encounter anything as good, writes Tom Doorley
BACK IN THE EARLY 1970s there was an ad campaign for something or other in which I had, at the time, no particular interest. It was for sherry, I think, and the strapline was: "One instinctively knows when something is right." And the odd thing is, considering that this was created by a copywriter, in which noble calling I once laboured, that it's true. In relation to restaurants one's natural instinct kicks in very early in the proceedings. There are times when, even without seeing any grub, one instinctively knows that a restaurant is wrong.
I never go looking for bad food. You don't have to. Bad food will find you. And when I've had a very good run of luck, which, in favourable times, can run for a few weeks, I find myself waiting for that dependable old fist of fate to descend.
Well, not yet. Give it time. A visit to Campagne in Kilkenny was every bit as good as I expected, given that the talent in the kitchen is that of Garrett Byrne, formerly of Chapter One, in Dublin. His return to his native county is a very happy event for the people of Kilkenny and its hinterland. Campagne is a fine place to eat.
Our timing was far from impeccable. Having negotiated Friday lunchtime traffic in Waterford and the inner circle of hell that is the roadworks to the north of that grand old city, and having then dealt with the traffic and the parking in Kilkenny, and actually found Campagne (which is not at the fashionable end), it was almost 3pm.
Campagne very kindly agreed to take us in despite the fact that the only other occupied table was at the fag end of the coffee stage.
We kicked off with chicken-liver parfait, which, on this occasion, merited its name. It was, indeed, perfect. The texture was like silk, the colour was faintly pink, the seasoning had just enough garlic, the flavour was ever-so-slightly lactic and it came in little shallow dishes below a thin layer of sweet jelly with plump, sweet sultanas on top. It came with feather-light slices of toasted brioche and combined such richness with such delicacy that it was tempting to scoff the lot. Thankfully, we didn't.
Main courses were presented with geometric precision, but they also had substance. Lots of it. And lots of punchy flavours, too. That's what I like about the grub at Campagne. It is well named. This is rustic food in the best sense of the word. And you could travel a long way in France before you encounter anything as good. In Ireland, you could burn a vast amount of precious fossil fuel on a similar quest.
The menu said "slow cooked shoulder of lamb, organic onion, cumin and mint, mashed swede". That sounds pretty good, but not as good as it was on the plate.
First of all, how pleasing it is to see shoulder of lamb, which is one of the most flavoursome bits of the beast. But it needs careful handling if it's not to end up as a fatty mass. And it got that handling here. The lamb was deconstructed and formed into a kind of generous timbale, bathed in a rich and silky gravy (okay, jus). And the mint and cumin didn't dominate. This dish tasted intensely of lamb, but the other flavours were there in the background. I'm coming around to swede, having formerly considered it a very sound diet for the beasts of the field during the colder months. This swede purée perfectly complemented the sweetness of the meat.
Frankly, I've seen enough pork belly to last me a lifetime at this stage. But this free-range version was probably the best I've tasted. It seemed to be a confit, cooked slowly in its own fat, then roasted until crisp: outside it was crunchy, but inside it could be eaten with a spoon. It came with finely shredded cabbage that retained just enough crunch, a sweet but earthy pumpkin purée and some tart apple stewed with a touch of orange juice. Heaven.
Desserts were just as good. An intense hazelnut cake served with pears, nicely chewy, bathed in a sticky, rich ginger-scented caramel and a slightly less successful Sauternes-infused baked custard.
With mineral water, coffee and two glasses of wine, the bill for this quite exceptional lunch came to €74.75. tdoorley@irish-times.ie
THE SMART MONEY
Two courses at lunch cost €24. Add a glass of wine at €5.50 and a coffee at €2.50 and you have a stunning meal for . . . well, do the maths.
WINE CHOICE
Zesty Honoré de Berticot Sauvignon, from the Côtes de Duras, is €6.50 a glass or €23 a bottle. Chunky Simone Joseph Syrah-Grenache, from the Côtes du Gard, is €6 or €25. Milton Park Riesling, full of dry, citrus fruit, is €28. Peachy Dona Rosa Albarinho is €35. Hazelnut-scented Domaine Vincent Girardin Meursault Vieilles Vignes is €78. Domaine des Anges Côtes du Ventoux is €34. The dense, chewy L'Oiselet Saint-Chinian is a steal at €36. La Rosine Syrah, from the Ogiers, is €50, and Warre's lovely 1985 Vintage Port is €19 a glass or €195 a bottle.