The time of my life

1980s REVISITED: A much-loved relic of the 1980s restaurant scene is more than holding its own these days

1980s REVISITED:A much-loved relic of the 1980s restaurant scene is more than holding its own these days

WHAT AN EVENTFUL decade. The year 1980 saw me celebrating my 21st birthday, and 1989 the birth of my first child. And I even managed to stay in Ireland at a time when everyone I knew was taking the road to Tara via Holyhead.

By 1982, I very tentatively had joined the grown-up world as a student teacher but still had the umbilical comfort of being on the books at TCD. That May, I sat my higher diploma in education exams. After each of these exams, I used to repair to the Lincoln Inn for a pint with a friend who was doing his finals in history and who, thanks to a British army scholarship, was destined for Sandhurst and, if things carried on as they were, the Falklands. "I didn't really think there would be an actual war," he used to complain. By the time that Dexy's Midnight Runners were singing Come On Eileen, it was all over and he never saw a shot fired in anger.

It was around this time that I first ate in Nicos. It was just one of those places where a student, if feeling moderately flush, might go and have spaghetti Bolognese and cassata, the multi-coloured ice-cream with candied fruit that seemed so sophisticated.

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Nicos was similar to "the Quo" (Quo Vadis) where my great-aunt, who lived in Pembroke Street, had occasionally taken me when she wanted a break from the Grey Door and her sundowner of warm Cinzano Rosso (she kept the bottle beside the radiator).

Of course, at this stage in our nation's development, the most fashionable restaurant in Dublin was the Mirabeau in Dún Laoghaire, where the menu omitted prices. It closed in 1984. Dublin was going through a bad patch. Jammet's had become a Berni Inn and the only Michelin star in Ireland was held by Arbutus Lodge in Cork.

The Quo is long gone, but Nicos remains true to the tradition of the Dublin trattoria. Despite a recent makeover, it still has a piano player and a wildly eclectic clientele (from elderly theatre-goers to couples barely out of their teens - the girls all dressed-up, the boys convinced that a clean shirt and the whiff of Lynx will suffice - and everybody in-between).

It's warm and welcoming and loud without being noisy. It doesn't do culinary fireworks (I bet none of the regulars have even heard of Dylan McGrath), but it delivers a very pleasing performance. And there is a strong sense of ritual, right down to the sambucas, which now flame only at the table rather than on the way to it, in deference to health and safety regulations.

The deep-fried squid rings were good enough to be fresh, not frozen, which would be close enough to a first in a Dublin restaurant. The proper, old-fashioned prawn cocktail, nostalgia fodder as it was, was quite superb, with immaculate, firm, fresh, Dublin Bay prawns and a Marie Rose sauce with just the appropriate kick of brandy.

Veal saltimbocca was straightforward and tasty, the meat topped with sage leaves and prosciutto, fried in butter and the pan de-glazed with a little Marsala (I think). The sauté spuds were deep-fried, but much better than the average chip.

And this is the first time I'm forgiving a restaurant for adding cream to the classic combination of egg, Parmesan and pancetta in producing a carbonara sauce for pasta. Because (a) it was only a tincture and not the usual ocean, nor was it accompanied by peas and mushrooms and heaven knows what else, and (b) it made good eating.

With mineral water, coffees and a bottle of very solid red wine, our bill came to €117.80. An honest bill for an honest performance. tdoorley@irish-times.ie

THE SMART MONEY

Spaghetti carbonara with a glass of house wine and an espresso works out at just over €21.

WINE CHOICE

As is the way with many restaurants, the list gives little away. House wines at €21 or €5 a glass are down simply as Montepulciano d'Abruzzo and Soave. Likewise, you can have Bianco di Custoza for €25 or Verdicchio for €27, but there's no indication of whose it is. Ricasoli Brolio Chianti Classico is €38, Peppoli Chianti Classico is €33 and our lovely La Grola from Allegrini is €43.50. They also have Tignanello 2005 for €135, Solaia 2002 for €155 and Sassicaia 2003 for €200 which, as these things go, is pretty good.