Eating out has become the Celtic cub's favourite pastime and every week sees new restaurants opening up to knock last week's darling off the top spot. Moe's has been hailed as this month's haunt of the hippest, even displaying its wares on its website www.moesdublin.com. One work colleague raved about her time there, and was fair drooling at the mere memory of her meal.
And it would seem to have all the makings of a good restaurant. Their head chef Ian Connolly has worked in Peacock Alley and Brownes. The manager Elaine Murphy was previously of the Mermaid Cafe. And finally, location, location, location. On the corner of Lower Baggot Street and Fitzwilliam Street in the basement of an old Georgian house, its predecessors include L'Ecrivan and Peacock Alley.
We had booked the table for 9 p.m. but were told that there was a slight delay. We decided to stay put and wait. We ordered some water and looked at menus while discussing Big Brother. Unfortunately, where we were waiting was small and very busy and we felt in the way as waitresses brushed past us to get wine.
At around 9.10 p.m., the manager came, briefed us on the specials and offered to take our orders, but we decided to wait it out. Unfortunately, appetite is a delicate thing and so by 9.30 p.m., fearful of reaching that horrible time when you get past being hungry, we decided to order. The menu looked inviting, with some good vegetarian alternatives such as sesame tofu and baked stuffed mushrooms.
The wine list was extensive. Mine had a blob of chocolate and cream obscuring some of it but it made no difference. The descriptions made each sound wonderful. Especially interesting was the Sancerre 1998 (£24.95). A white wine described as having a subtle hint of gunflint, instantly irresistible to our inquiring palates. Not only did we wonder what it tasted like, but we also wondered why would anyone want to taste gunflint in the first place. Surely when you start to taste gunflint that is the time to stop drinking?
We were led into the small dining room which was quite dark but had a lovely warm glow. The atmosphere was intimate and relaxed. We chose a table by the wall but, unfortunately, it was just in the path of an open door which created a draft. We were moved quickly with no fuss to another table.
We were offered a choice of brown, white or sweet potato bread, which was brought around regularly during the evening. We both had the sweet potato bread, which didn't really taste of anything. A plate of olives, sun-dried tomatoes and onions in chilli followed shortly. It whetted our appetites and complemented our wine, which was lovely and fruity and, thankfully, absent of any form of explosive.
The music was blissfully unintrusive, and we settled into a comfortable chat unaware of the people around us. The starters quickly arrived. I had ordered the steamed shellfish with speck, garlic and crabmeat cream (£6.95). Unfortunately I forgot to ask what speck was and discovered it is a bacon which, when combined with shellfish makes it incredibly salty. There were mussels, clams and a razorfish.
Cassie, never having tasted a clam, asked if it was meant to be like chewing gum? Nearly all of them had grit and some were chewy. Two of the mussels were closed. To have included them in the first place is the cardinal sin of shellfish. Cassie had the soup, which was chickpea, coconut and chilli (£3.50); she liked the taste but found it too luscious and sauce-like.
Disappointed, we decided to wait for the main course to reserve judgment. We asked to have a relief period between our starters and our main course. I had ordered the beef with confit red onions, mushrooms, roasted garlic and potato cake (£16.95), to be accompanied by a glass of Merlot (£3). The beef was lovely, medium-rare and really succulent. Unfortunately, the potato cake was like a very greasy, soggy rosti. And the sauce was thick, brown and painfully salty, like a bad Bisto sauce. It ruined the beef and I could not even attempt to finish it.
Cassie had ordered the fish special, which was turbot. It came with leeks, potatoes, and a crab ravioli (£17.50). The fish, she said, was done to perfection. However, her sauce was like a gravy and uncannily resembled my sauce, which she said just didn't go with the fish and seemed to obscure everything.
Now devoid of any saliva, when asked how our meal was, I complained about the saltiness of both my courses. Now, I like salty food, but the saltiness of both courses I found sickening. The manager looked very surprised as if no one had ever complained before. She asked me if I had added extra salt, which was a bit annoying. Why would I complain about salt I had added? She then offered us something else from the menu and we decided to take desserts with tea and coffee instead.
The desserts were wonderful, so we shared. My vanilla creme brulee (£4.50) was done to perfection, being both crispy on the top and light underneath. Cassie's sorbet came with fruit and lime syrup (£4.50) and was sweet and fresh. When we told our waitress that the desserts were delicious, she replied "Good", with a sigh that suggested that we were very difficult to please.
Our bill came to £75.75, without the desserts. "I had a great time though," she said happily as we left the restaurant. We laughed somewhat hysterically, almost as if we didn't laugh, we might cry, or sniffle at least.