Eating out:I love our new multiculturalism and the diversity it brings, but there is one tiny downside to it all. It just doesn't seem right to be served by pleasant, young mainland Europeans in the Horseshoe Bar of the Shelbourne.
To be blunt, the only people who look right behind it are short, slightly overweight Dubs of a certain age. They also bring advantages such as knowing who everybody is, who is having an affair with whom, what Mrs So-and-so likes in her Bloody Mary or how Lord Whatshisname wants his whiskey.
Of course, foreign staff are great news for the better class of restaurant critic, the sort that likes to come and go like the Scarlet Pimpernel. Being unrecognised is good. But the Shelbourne used to be the social centre of Dublin; it was, so to speak, of Dublin. The new one could be anywhere. The Shelbourne used to have a kind of shabby grandeur; now the shabbiness is gone, but being run by a large American chain does nothing for the grandeur.
This becomes obvious in the restaurant, which has resurrected the name of the Saddle Room. You expect what the hotel industry calls, in a horrible phrase, "fine dining", but what you get is, essentially, a bistro with a kind of oyster bar. You also get a large and rather random wine list that was put together, I believe, in Atlanta.
Intrigued by a menu description that involved "coarse herbs", I asked our waiter what these might be. He paused and then replied, in a kind of confidential manner: "They are a very traditional Irish vegetable."
We had a bit of an unexpected breather before our starters, as the hotel was evacuated when the fire alarm went off. A kind of Dunkirk spirit prevailed as we spilled on to the Green in the spring sunlight and marvelled at how many customers had stayed put, seemingly convinced they would not be fried alive.
On our return, every diner was presented with a glass of Champagne and our starters turned up double-quick and properly hot. They were above average. A couple of suitably crabby (as distinct from potatoey) crab cakes with roasted peppers and a pungently mustardy mayonnaise came with a good little salad of unusual leaves. The "Shelbourne seafood chowder" vanished so quickly I barely managed to sample it. There seemed to be plenty of mussels and some smoked fish, an abundance of cream and finely diced al dente spuds. All in all, a good soup.
Things went rather downhill from this point. A "tenderloin", unspecified, turned out to be a fillet steak. It was cooked rare, as requested, had a pleasing crust on the outside and had absolutely no discernible flavour. It came with a kind of shallot and red wine marmalade, and we ordered a generous portion of very good "organic Irish fries", hand-cut and unpeeled. Unpeeled spuds are good to eat only if they are organic; otherwise you will ingest the chemical that inhibits sprouting.
Tiger prawns worked out at €11 each, but they were huge. In an Olympics for crustaceans they would be tested for steroids. Unfortunately, they had marginally less taste than the steak. Texture, yes, appearance, yes, flavour, no. But I did get a finger bowl with a slice of lemon in it.
We shared a plate of cheese from a very small and rather sweaty-looking selection that was redeemed by having the two flavoured Mossfield organic cheeses from Co Offaly. Mossfield is a Gouda; my favourite version is thick with cumin in the Dutch style. The other, with sun-dried tomatoes and herbs, sounds like a nightmare but is utterly delicious (and brilliant melted on toast).
Joined by a mutual friend in the course of our nosh, we lingered until quite late. Within moments of paying the bill, and as we phoned for taxis, the restaurant was plunged into darkness. In the good old days the head waiter would surely just have inquired:
"Have yez no homes to go to?"
The Saddle Room, the Shelbourne, St Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, 01-6634500, www.marriott.ie
WINE CHOICE:I can't see anyone wanting to pair the Château Pétrus 1949 (€6,000) or 1985 (€2,500) with this menu, but Château Palmer 2003 at €126 is, believe it or not, quite a good buy. Our Colonia Los Liebres Bonarda, from Argentina, was juicy and fresh at €30, which is the entry-level price here. For €30 you can also have Basa Rueda, a zingy Spanish white, or the lovely Dr von Basserman-Jordan Riesling Trocken. Trade up by €3 and you can have the crisp and elegant Gaba do Xil, from Valdeorras. Ravenswood Zinfandel is pleasant enough at €31, but Condado de Haza is surely a little dear at €47. Muga Gran Reserva Rioja 1996 (€73) is a remarkable red, and Allegrini's surprisingly elegant Amarone is arguably worth €129.