Far too many restaurants around Dublin are practising pretension with no justification at all. The classic case generally involves a chef addicted to towering creations, often dangerously top-heavy, which look sumptuous. Yet disentangling one morsel without the whole edifice crashing violently into its moat will often require five hands or lifelong experience in civil engineering. If you fail, you'll need a Richter scale to measure the damage.
In the very worst examples, the waiting-staff and their bosses will either be into flunkeydom or oh-so-cool standoffishness. Whichever is worse is a moot point - the vogue is unwelcome.
Da Vincenzo on Upper Leeson Street is not one of those places. Near enough to the centre to be on the town, it is sufficiently far from the drag to offer melee-free dining. This is important because a quiet night out in Dublin de nos jours can be very difficult to organise. The vibe at Vincenzo is village-like - people seem to half-recognise each other all the time and many locals are regulars. The atmosphere is chatty, like in the best pubs. The place was busy - as it usually is - though there was no problem getting a reservation.
My companion for the evening was similarly opposed to food which attempts to outwit the laws of gravity. The menu, with its Italian streak, gave every indication that we were safe. There were viandes, pastas, pizzas and more. Though not a pizza-eater, I have been told they are very good.
We were discussing Duffys Bookshop on Lincoln Place, which hasn't been open in a while, when we ordered. I opted to start with mozzarella salad and my dining companion went for salad too, but with the deep-fried feta. For wine, we took a 1995 Barolo which, at £24, was towards the upper end of the list.
Duffys was great for well-priced gems, long out of print, which you planned to buy 10 years ago but forgot. It had a particularly strong political collection, indicating that print overruns or below-par sales in the arena were once common. With this in mind, we were already onto the great Charlie Haughey visa-vis Garret FitzGerald debate when the starters arrived. However, we halted our in-depth political analysis without conclusion because the salads beckoned.
My insalate caprese was lush and, without going over the top with the vinaigrette, it had just the right amount of zing to balance against the cheese. As intended, the effect was calming on the palate, now fully expectant ahead of the main meal. My companion liked the feta al lampone, stating that the starfruit accompaniment to the raspberry vinaigrette was a "nice touch". There was just the right amount of food, and the wine was well-tempered. Very promising.
By the time the main course arrived shortly afterwards the conversation had drifted well away from the dealings in and around Dail Eireann. Somehow - and it is difficult to figure out - we were now discussing the famously exuberant belly-dancer in a certain late-night place on Parliament Street.
When they arrived, my fillet steak and my companion's cannelloni marinara arrived. The immediate word from the other side of the table was that it was good. I had already had similar thoughts.
There was no shortage of the cannelloni, which was indeed hot. The cheese topping was substantial and the spinach and crab filling mixed well with the tomato and herb sauce. Tasty, said my companion. Even "real crab" was uttered in the appreciative voice of one who frequently and frostily renounces "false crab".
The steak - an easy-enough thing to foul up, remember - was sizeable, perfectly tender and seemed just about medium-rare as requested. The sauce was rapier sharp with copious peppercorns and set off nicely with the shallots by the side. The sauteed potato had a deft suggestion of baked garlic, by request. Done with discretion.
By the time we reached the bottom of the wine - fruity and full-bodied - our attentions had long turned from the dancer down-town. The following topics, amongst others and in no particular order, were discussed: dodgy search engines; the merits and demerits of the BP Fallon radio show on Today FM over that of his colleague Donal Dineen; Margaret Thatcher and the Iron Lady's ability to function on only a few hour's sleep; a hectic night in Blaze's restaurant once of Temple Bar and the "old" Keogh's on South Anne Street before the owners changed.
Afterwards I decided on the ice-cream, which was not too cold. Of the three flavours chocolate came out best, with more chunks than shards of the dark stuff. My companion went for a casatta, a pleasant mixture of mascarpone cheese, with cream and fruit, in a chocolate casing. The service was well-timed. The staff were pleasant to a person, attentive and courteous. It was a balmy, close evening outside, and inside did not become oppressively hot as many smaller restaurants do, even in the chilly nights of winter.
At Vincenzo - there is a room downstairs and another on the first floor - the odd Roman will stare winsomely into a turbo-charged espresso, which suggests that Italians like the place a lot. The boss, however, is Cathal Feeney from the not-so-Latin outpost of Santry.
Feeney - who formerly ran the Pepper Canister restaurant in Stillorgan - acquired Da Vincenzo two years ago, 11 years after it opened. Vincenzo, incidentally, was the confirmation-name of the original owner. Feeney retained the head-chef, Marie Roberts, and the business appears to be thriving. The bill, including two coffees and a large bottle of fizzy water, came to £68.60, service included. Two brandies were served on the house.
Da Vincenzo, 133 Upper Leeson Street, Dublin 4, tel: 01-6609906
Orna Mulcahy is on holidays
