The good the great and the disappointing in London.

The food of London is highly misinterpreted. Many swear that anything consumable is downright terrible and overwhelmingly expensive. Then there are those who know of the old food history in England and feel it can be found and enjoyed within certain restaurants of London. Others say even the simple stuff somehow has something wrong with it. As varied as the claims may be, they all hold a certain amount of truth.
London has its fair share of wonderful restaurants offering exciting food. Many are highly desirable destinations that have grown to international fame. And with that important title, comes the high price tag. Sadly it is a gamble trying to find a nice place that gives an experience worth justifying the evening's bill.

One such location is associated with a name that rarely seems to disappoint. Gordon Ramsay isn't as large of a culinary icon in the states as he is in England. America knows him as a foul mouthed, hot tempered, knife wielding maniac. Just recently opening his first establishment state side last year, America has barely had time to know what the man is all about. In England, they have been eating his food for nearly a decade. Like all chef-turned-busineussmen, Ramsay has his flagship location that is usually booked months in advanced. With any establishment, popularity means bigger numbers, so Ramsay just like Batali, Jean-Georges, Boulud, and even Keller, have created numerous successful locations with one name. Ramsay's title is associated with close to a dozen restaurants within London. One such restaurant is MAZE, one of the newer places within the Ramsay franchise.

Head chef: Jason Atherton has worked in many European kitchens, including the famous El BULLI in Spain. He brings his knowledge and creative force together in a form of sophisticated French inspired small plates. The menu is arranged according to sizes, and the diners are encouraged to order anywhere from 4 to 6 plates. The food was slightly complex in composition but the flavors were distinct and delightful.

After placing my orders, I was joined by small multigrain wheat rolls and mini baguettes. The breads had a very developed flavor that showed a level of expertise I had not yet had in London. Asking where I could find the same breads outside of the restaurant, I was informed in-fact that I couldn't. All the different breads within any Gordon Ramsay restaurant are exclusively baked by the same person, who does not have a retail store. Being quite impressed and yet slightly disappointed (to not get some baguettes within the days to come), all was forgiven when my first plate arrived.

A warm and delightfully smooth truffled swede velute was poured (table-side) over a minced pile of braised duck leg. The braise worked magic into the duck, tender like a confit but much stronger in the natural duck flavor. The velute had such a creamy texture without being at all heavy and the delicate truffle aroma was persistent but not overwhelming. A small piece of brioche with a duxelle flavored butter assisted the soup with similar flavors.

A plate that wanted to be summer but still had elements of spring: Roasted cornish red mullet was laid on-top of a thick emulsification of an English asparagus vinaigrette. In a silly fashion of french style, the candied eggplant and basil was brought out in a little serving vessel which was then spooned into the bowel next to the fish. Trying to impress while only compromising the separation of flavors. The eggplant showed it's young age even while being preserved and 'candied', there was a flavor that didn't seemed completely developed. After three bites everything just became a mash within the dish and some of the lighter elements were lost. Still enjoyable though.

With a touch of humor and sly creative techniques the "Beef 'tongue 'n' cheek' " was a winner. Soft meat of a beef's cheek and a sliced piece of tongue terrine had all the deeply attractive beef flavors so greatly loved by meat eaters. There was a small mixture acting as spicy condiment of 'caper and raisin' layered between the different meats, while 'gingered carrots' had a nice palate cleansing brightness. Again with the table side service, the natural 'jus' was poured as the dish was placed down, releasing an aroma of roasted flesh and caramelized fat. Quite tasty, to the the very last sticky bit.

Dessert was chosen out of curiosity more than desire to necessitate any craving. Coconut panna-cotta, liquid mango, white chocolate 'ice' and a syrup of black olives. Many of these flavors wouldn't have been my first choice when choosing sweets and olives surly wasn't something I was expecting to end a meal, but I must say that everything worked in a complicated harmony. This small dish utilized techniques learned from chef Jason Atherton's time at EL BULLI. Frozen white chocolate was the lightest flavor with the mango acting as the sweetest. The coconut panna-cotta was more like a pudding but the flavor was unmistakable. The best and most desired component was that of the black olives. Working just like salt next to ice cream, the savory aspect actually made the sweet items seem sweeter while cutting through the rich level of the coconut. Quite a different combination of textures and flavors, but one that tasted refined and balanced.

MAZE would be a place that I would return to again. Their flavors were fresh and together with the creative decisions of the kitchen made for an interesting meal. Using MAZE as an example of the higher quality 'new' style of cuisine that is currently delighting the people of London, on the other end of things, my meal at a place named ANCHOR AND HOPE, shows the older and more basic style of simple British food.

ANCHOR AND HOPE is a representation of what some classify as a 'Gastro-Pub'. A focus on serving good drink, encouraging good socialization and on preparing good simple food. A restaurant that doesn't take reservations and isn't afraid to turn people away. It's not that they don't want business, it's that they just don't have enough room. As I sat at one of the many communal tables while looking over a menu just hours old, I realized that just like the brasseries of France, the pinxtos bars of Spain, the Osterias of Italy and the pubs of Ireland, when situated around good food, happiness comes easy.

From a small kitchen run by two cooks comes a gimmick-less plate of smoked eel and pickled prunes. While not really being much to look at, the flavors were bold and many. Eel having it's flaky and slightly springy texture, was not muted by the aroma of the smoke. The prunes weren't pickled to the point of canned dills, only a shallow hint of vinegar offset the intense sweetness giving a much more interesting flavor, similar to a gastrique reduction.

Knowing that the only way to properly serve roasted pork is if a large piece is slowly cooked and servings shaved to order. Before my dish came out I saw the chef pull a large side of pig out of the oven, removed the backbone and begin to cut away. The dish was a pork lovers wet dream. Succulent loin meat, chunks of bacon, and the real treat, a crisp piece of skin crackling. The legumes and braised vegetables were made wonderfully delicious from the addition of the chunks of belly. There is such a fantastic savory element to pork fat that really can't me matched or mistaken.

The menu listed this as a "pot of lemon". Hoping for exactly what I got, a tart lemon 'pot de creme' (pardon my french) with citrus creme fraiche. Another dish representing how wonderful the simple style of things are. With just a few elements only amplifying, never contradicting the main flavor of refreshing semi-sweet, slightly sour lemons.
These kinds of meals are the ones that are usually remembered. With nothing to prove but how much they love what they do, the cooks at ANCHOR AND HOPE created food that spoke louder than any book title or furious chef ever could.

There is a fine line between the message of an eatery that requires suits and that which hardly cares if one is wearing shoes. Both can use the same ingredients but the finished product will be drastically different. Some eateries try and find that quality held in the higher end places but with a much less stuffy environment. And then certain big name restaurants will take what is known as usually being simple and recreate it in a complex way. There is just such a restaurant above the Borough Market named ROAST that strives to achieve the style of refined simplicity.

A lovely space within the upper parts of the old Borough building, ROAST has a bird's eye view of what can be found within the stalls of the market. Utilizing the enormous bounty of local foods though fundamental basics of the British kitchen is an admirable direction to go. And it would be a wonderfully tasty one, if only they could first fully understand how important the simple things are.
I was really hoping for a grand night of exciting food and new flavors at ROAST. I wanted to taste the season by way of the chef's interpretation through cooking. I really wanted to like my meal, but sadly things just didn't happen that way.

A nice serving of sweet pea soup sounded like just the way to start the evening. To my disadvantage, the peas were not sweet at all. Very misdirected in flavor, being too salty, ridiculously large and improperly emulsified. As I sat with a mouthful of the sodium filled, chalky textured, baby food, I could see the soup breaking from it's self within the bowl. Nothing seemed to be strained and in a very Linda Blair style, it turned my head.

This should have been the turing point to the evening. Herring roe on toast with lemon, capers and parsley sounded like something so simple, it could only succeed. Sadly, as wonderfully cooked and tasty that the roe was, the sauce fell victim to another case of over-salting. The roe was like biting into the foam at the top of the sea. Fishy like mackerel, briny like uni, salty like caviar and slippery like oysters. I enjoyed the roe but it was the overpowering bitter liquid that coated the bottom of the plate that ruined it all.

Having just recently acquired a taste for kidneys, I was excited to try them in a new setting. This was only the second time of having kidneys and I'm so glad it wasn't the first, for if it was, I don't think I would ever want to try them again. Carelessness destroyed any potential of the organs being at all enjoyable. There was a high level of connective tissue that couldn't be consumed, and had to be detached in a disgusting style of surgical table manners. Undercooked kidneys are texturally close to what raw chicken meat feels like which doesn't bring many pleasing thoughts to dinner. The small amount of vegetables lacked any sense of flavor, worse than bad, they were just humorous. There was a point where I stopped tying to find something redeemable with this course, and just put my fork down and started thinking of dessert.

Dessert was passable but nothing to desire. Treacle tarts are traditional to the British kitchen and are usually quite sweet. One bite of this sugar heavy ending was enough to wish a dentist's phone number was on speed dial. Clotted cream was added as an attempt at cutting through the thick bombardment of sweetness, but the desire for a tooth brush never left.
Leaving nearly in tears, but not from happiness, that night's walk home was filled with solemn thoughts.
London has already proved itself as a great city to eat in. And yet it is the undeserving restaurants that are remembered. With the amount of local produce and fresh ingredients that London has, it is a real shame one has to struggle to find a decent meal. But it can be done, with a little determination and some patient travels, a new world of varied tastes will be found. London has rich traditions involving food and even though there are many imitators, there ones that matter will always remain.

Scotland and her beauty...

As if walking the streets within some gothic tale of horror and mystery that has become excitingly real, Edinburgh welcomed me. The old city holds passage ways and stoned streets that would allow for multiple Vampire and Witch sightings to be within the bounds of normality. The only place in the world to be given the label as 'officially haunted' can be found below the pedestrian trampled streets of old Edinburgh. The churches are a bit darker than others from the area, the castle has a menacing look and yet the people are some of the nicest to be found in Scotland. With every twisting turn of the road, Edinburgh has something to behold. As much pleasure that can be found for the eyes, there is also a large amount to please the stomach.

Food in Edinburgh doesn't have anything to prove. There isn't a movement of people attempting to say anything besides what they already know. Pubs have the most attention within the dining culture. Not much in the obscure style of food that seems to be a current focus of many other cities worldwide. The Scottish diet is actually quite an enjoyable one. Much like that of neighboring Britain and the close cousins of Ireland, Scotland is a simple man's kind of place. With Fresh dairy, tender lambs, grass grazing beef, moist environments and eye opening berries, Scotland has a vast number of food offerings.

And all can be seen within the weekly market below the castle in Edinburgh.

Cheese makers, venison butchers, well humored farmers, smiling bakers and anyone who loves food can be found enjoying themselves in the environment of local specialties. One such was a small stand making breakfast porridge.

A warm portion of well cooked oats, a splash of farmer's cream, new season honey and a handful of magnificent raspberries grabbed my attention though every spoonful.
A second serving of the tasty mush was on my mind until I came across a huge food weakness. The pastry. Even if hunger isn't pulling at my throat, I always go for a pastry.

A 'mini' pie of tart rhubarb and a crisp bottle of Scottish apple juice was a great combo and a nice way to gain some energy for the rest of the day.
Outside of the market, there was a place named SPOON. More of a coffee shop with a daily menu, their main focus (besides the food) was on the comfort of their patrons. For some it was in the early morning espresso, or the midday sandwich, but in my case it was (obviously) the afternoon sweets.

A slice of bittersweet chocolate decadence. Fulfilling as if embraced by a close lover, the tart was a treat to slowly savor and enjoy in all its rich glory.

For dinner, the best meal I had was at a new place named BLUE. The menu was appealing to the younger crowd with multiple item combination meals, but it still took itself serious as a restaurant. The starter salad of house smoked mackerel with horseradish cream was a strong plate of flavors. The horseradish cream was a soft sting next to the salty smoke of the fish. I enjoyed the Scottish aspects of the food, slightly altered but still basic.

I always talk about how much I love the flavor of gamey lamb. The way it seems to always have appeal though it's distinct aroma makes me salivate at the slightest smell. Before the waiter was out of the kitchen I could sense what was being brought as lamb. Sauteed lamb's kidneys atop smooth rosemary potatoes and bacon. The texture of innards and organ meat are all very similar. Uniquely squishy with a distinct popping meaty chew, the kidneys reminded me of certain sausages and sweetbreads. The flavor was everything it seems to be. Dark, earthy, bitter, funky and gamey. Like a damp barnyard or the wool of a sheep, the kidneys had an aroma not easily forgotten. Stronger than any piece of lamb I have ever tasted meaning, they were right up my alley. I really had to contemplate if I in-fact enjoyed what I was eating. An organ that purifies the urine did cross my mind as I ate my way through the flavor that seemed to stain everything I touched. The potatoes were very good on their own but seemed only to give contrast to the intense kidneys. After it was all over, I look back on it in a positive way. New and different but good enough to eat again.

Finishing off the evening was an enormously successful cheese plate. I have tasted all of the offerings previously, but I was interested to see how they worked in a progression next to each other. The creamy and rich heaviness of the starting Clava brie moved into the mild Lanark Blue with wonderful synchronization. Usually the blue cheeses are the strongest and saved for the end but a piece of Isle of Mull Cheddar could not be out done. Having a tongue tickling start and a warm finish similar to whiskey, the Cheddar was strong but palate cleansing allowing for the rotation to restart. Two types of oat crackers, savory fruit chutney and some (contrasting) knobs of butter were great additions to a wonderful selection of cheeses.

The meal at BLUE was a wonderful one to have had alone. None of the flavors burned out or got tiring, the innovations were few but subtle making all the dishes enjoyable without compromising any ideals of the Scottish kitchen.

And speaking of the Scottish Kitchen, how could one go to Scotland and not eat the famous mixed innards of (sometimes numerous) animals that is thickened with dense oatmeal and fresh blood, then filled into a sheep's stomach and cooked, the one and only item know as HAGGIS? I couldn't say, because I had my fair share of many different offerings.

Rolled in a light layer of oatmeal and seared.

Traditional with Neeps (turnips) and tatties (potatoes)

Boiled with oatcakes.

Trendy and molded into a silly tower.

Boiled, steamed and micro-waved in a communal fashion.

And neep-less with sliced bread.
It is truly a landmark within the history of culinary creations. The meat always has a strong flavor but is never too intimidating. Some versions had more spices added than other. Their texture was soft and moist with an aroma similar to that of wet charcoal. The nutty flavors of the mixed oats were slightly woodsy, a masterly combination with the meat. The Haggis should not be seen as something to disgust. Anyone who has ever eaten a hot-dog has had far worse and more revoting a mixture of proteins than that of the haggis. In a way, it is just an oat filled sausage. And a delicious one at that.

Scotland offered a wonderful amount of culinary experiences. Food without complication but full of different elements. Exciting combinations filled with admirable flavors that will be craved in due time. Memories were created with fork and knife and a certain dish of bloody stomach oatmeal...

WOW!

I think I might have stumbled onto something amazing. It was one of those moments that can be remembered in multiple stages. So many feelings, so great a level of excitement, the shock, the smiles and the sense of confusion. A moment where time lost meaning, attention was diverted while complete focus was concentrated on this little item of utter amazement. What to feel? How to feel it? When to let it go? Should I continue breathing? It was hard to continue basic humanly functions, my body as a whole wanted, desired and truly needed what can simple be called;
PAIN AU CHOCOLAT.



It was just one little pastry that crippled my thought process and reduced my brain to a mush of animalistic desires. It all started in a place called Heart Buchanan, where a fine young woman with an accent of sharp Scottish decent, told me "They are the best in all of the UK. Possible even mainland Europe." I laughed at her notice, partly because I knew that I would have to get one, but also because it was such a bold and redundant statement. How many shops claim their pastries are the best and the ultimate version? I thought this proclamation to be a smooth marketing sell, when I saw the devotion within the young lady's eyes, and realized there was very little humor to her words.

As she handed me my sack of delicious goods, I had to double check the contents within. The weight seemed to be less than expected, almost as if she had forgotten the desirable item. Inspecting the contents, I realized everything was in order, the pastry was just so light, it felt as if it wasn't really there. Enduring a surge of hunger from the slightest sight of the delicate layers, I ferociously found a small joint for coffee. The drink was miniscule in comparison to the importance of the moment.
I took my seat, got comfortable, and gently caressed the creation. Holding the pastry while feeling the slight skim of butter on the surface of the treat, I closed my eyes and indulged.



Words similar to complete, euphoric, perfect, ridiculous all cross my mind when remembering that moment. The sound of biting though the sheets of layered dough was crisp and nearly crunchy. The resistance it gave on my teeth was one that I rarely get to experience. Dark in color but properly baked, firm on the chew but not doughy, flaky and shattering with every bite containing the soothing element of rich butter. The smell alone was enough to instigate shouts with jumping excitement.

After it was all over, I slowly felt back in control of myself. I looked around, hoping not to see the destructive havoc that could have been created while under the influence of a calorie and carbohydrate filled transformation, a Mr. Hyde moment (only fatter and with a thick french accent.) Such a whirlwind of thoughts,
I don't know if it was the best,
It could be one of the best,
I don't know if I have had better,
it could have been the best.
I had to try it again.

and again.

Each morning tested my level of control. Trying to ride the sugar edge without falling, I limited myself to only two pastries. Even as great as the other delights were, the pain au chocolat always took the stage. I can't say if Heart Buchanan does the best puff pastries in Europe. France is a big country with a great history in the field of morning treats. By understanding the rules of the masters, Heart Buchanan has taken a few great ingredients, some practiced techniques and the hands of a passionate and slightly crazy baker to create the classic pain au chocolate. And make one overindulgent kid from Colorado turn into a manic sugar rushed monster with a massive chocolate covered grin.

Some flavors in Glasgow

The meat pie. Savory butter enriched pie shell filled with a mystery combination of random animal pieces. Throw in a few spices to give some extra character, cover with a thin layer of more pastry and you got yourself a meat pie.

This Scottish meat pie tasted the way most gravies smell, the distinct mineral quaility was one that packed a delicious punch. The texture could have been a little less processed, not as pasty, but it made for a memorable welcome into the city of Glasgow, Scotland.

A university town that has gotten a reputation for crime and discomfort. Most of the other Scotland residence will all come down on the city of Glasgow as being 'dodgy' with people called 'crazy talkers'. There was a lot of truth to the words spoken, but I would say I enjoyed the city greatly.

The university building located atop a hill, is one of immense beauty that took my breath away many times. There is a great museum within the city's second most beautiful building. Near these two sights is a wonderful park with numerous paths to take. A city known for being gloomy and haunted, I experienced bright sunshine for my entire stay. Glasgow has a large amount of students and because of them, there is a very lively nightlife, which also means lots of restaurants.

With the meat pies aside, I wanted to taste the flavors native to Scotland. Wether it be easy to find or hard to obtain, contemporary or classic, I was in Glasgow with a desire for the delicious.

Walking within a active area known as the Westend, I came across a restaurant named 16 Byrnes Road. A cozy place with small tables in a low celling room. I started with a middle eastern influenced braised lamb shoulder set atop mild couscous with pomegranate molasses and a spoonful of eggplant (in the style of a baba ganoush). A proper braise on the lamb allowed the meat to be soft and quite nice, the pomegranate was a tart touch of sticky sweetness.

A braised pork belly with vanilla mashed potatoes and Madeira reduction. I love how much starch is incorporated into the diets of the Scots. The salsify acted as a middle ground for the rest of the plate. Pork was fatty and decent but not incredible, the masers with the added vanilla on the other hand were great. The sweet aroma of the vanilla stood out against the meaty belly of pig. The thick reduction that glossed the plate was intensely flavorful, not the lest bit bitter, and really aided to the slightly lacking qualities of the pork.

Wanting to get back to a more classic style of cooking, I had lunch at a place called sisters. Hoping for a leisurely meal to give a deeper appreciation of what Scottish cuisine is, I instead ended up slightly disappointed and board. The starter of chicken liver pate was very tasty with crumbly oat crackers, fresh greens and sweet plums, but it didn't come off as anything more than basic.

There was also a piece of Scottish lamb leg, braised (that sadly dried out the meat and left a good deal of inedible silver skin) a side of tasteless cabbage and completely uninteresting starches.

Feeling a bit saddened by the meal, I declined dessert and went for a stroll. I was hoping for a bit more excitement and I was beginning to feel a little reluctant to dive any deeper into the food of Scotland. It was then that I realized something that has always saved me in the past. A style of food that never ceases to inspire and please.
Cheese of course.

Obtaining three Scottish cheeses I began with an unpasturized brie style cheese called; Finn I was skyrocketed into a world of smiles and droopy eyes. Finally, a flavor that can only be obtained by young raw milk. The texture dripped and covered every part of my stimulated tongue. A warm breath of earth and mushrooms with rich aromas of warm cream slowly crept though my senses. Not able to control myself, I had to have more.
I went for a sheep's milk for the the second choice: Iona Cromak. Similar to a loose Tallagio but with a fuller flavor, Iona was a spectacle of cheesy goodness. A dual of textures (similar to melting ice cream at the rind and closer to spreadable butter in the middle) added to the diversity of the characteristics. Being a sheep's milk, there was a stronger flavor of lactic fruits and creamy potatoes. The washed rind only increased the level of enjoyment.
The third choice was another sheep's milk named Brocklay. Having a somewhat dry texture, similar to Italian pecorinos and certain wheels from the Pyrenees. There was a very savory flavor of salt with incredible notes of bacon and eggs, comparable to a pasta 'carbonara'.
A few slices of Tuscan Prosciutto, a piece of fruit and some crusty bread were all I needed to make the meal one one to remember.

The cheeses of Scotland really surprised me. They have all the capabilities to stand along side anything from France and Italy, and yet they aren't given nearly the attention they deserve. The little meal in the park reinstated faith in the quality of Scottish ingredients. Hoping for the best, I had my last meal in Glasgow at a place named STAVAIGIN.

The name STAVAIGIN means "to wander" in the local Gaelic language. Quite fitting a title, the food seems to be based on the classic Scottish style but 'wanders' in newer areas of preparation. Such a dish was the Duck filled Tortolloni with peppered cabbage and porcini mushrooms.

The essence of the flavors is very typical, duck with cabbage and mushrooms is a common combination, mainly because it works so well. Their pasta was flavored with a tiny pinch of saffron which really amplified the incredibly moist filling of braised duck. The cabbage was smooth and seasoned with black pepper that added a spicy earth quality. Rich mushrooms played along with the current notes of the other ingredients making this a well thought out, and highly enjoyable plate of food.

Staying a bit more typical to the Scottish fare was an expertly cooked piece of lamb saddle that held very little game while being juicy and tender. Braised fennel contained aromatic flavors of fresh vegetation while the green sauce (salsa verde) was acidic but a wonderful compliment. The potatoes were chilled with soothing parsley that made them a calming side note to the rest of the striking flavors.

Scotland and the UK has a large amount of Indian culture. With their culture comes their food and over time it become just as traditional as the meat pie. With this in mind, desert was largely composed using Indian and middle eastern flavors.

Warm pistachio lemon cake had a wonderfully fluffy texture with a striking perk of fresh lemon and butter. The mango 'gel' was similar to a panna cotta, only there was no cream. Quite smooth to the touch with a pleasing sweetness that made the warm evening feel that much better. Fresh mint and a wonderful garnish named Angel string (or Turkish floss, a middle eastern spun sugar similar to american cotton candy), was just the right touch to end this meal.

While walking among the dim light of an already set sun, I realized how great I felt. Happy in Scotland with a pleased palate and a newer understanding of what can be done with what you know. Glasgow might be looked down upon, but I'm happy to have been there and I wait for the day when I get to go back.

Four days in Dublin, Ireland.

A city that looks as if it has just opened itself to the rest of the world. Upbeat shopping centers and creative fashion districts connecting with an old-school European style charm has made a stroll thought the city center one to enjoy. Even though the city is expanding, it hasn't lost the Irish boldness that makes it the capital of Ireland. Dublin is famous for producing the legendary Guinness stout. Nothing has changed over the years, the pints are still full and the locals still live by it. Travelers don't have to search far to find this original source, there is at least one pub for every block with numerous taps pouring out the thick headed, smooth and bitter-sweet drink. There will always be a place for that of the original ways and traditional methods, but for some within Dublin, a creative urge is emerging and things are changing.

Dublin's dining scene is young. There is a thriving pulse that can be felt within the dining rooms of many restaurants. A flow that uses classic combinations of flavors while utilizing newer techniques. It isn't a 'deconstructed' style, nor a series of crazy scientific culinary experiments. Dublin's current top restaurants are more or less taking a fresh approach to the old style. With numerous Michelin starred restaurants and many publications in respected newspapers worldwide, it seems the efforts are becoming well received, and enjoyed.

THE WINDING STAIR.



This restaurant used to be a highly enjoyed bookstore still pays tribute to its origins. A tight walk up a twisting stairway opens into dining rooms that houses as many tables as it does bookshelves. The clever addition of the shelves and calming wooden tabletops allows all who enter to feel immediately comfortable. The kitchen has an emphasis on using local produce from area farmers without complication. By using practical applications with fresh ingredients, THE WINDING STAIR makes food that represents Ireland. From Simple grilled steaks with fragrant herb compound butters and thick cut organic chips

to an all Irish charcuterie plate that had selections ranging from Italian style salamis, Spanish Lomo, Chorizo, cured beef and cured lamb.


I noticed that many of their dishes looked similar in plating style. A side-by-side layering of vegetables and protein with bread or potatoes on every side. But as close in appearance that everything was, it didn't come of as uninspiring. The food was great and the preparations were simple, not needing anything else. The meats, especially the cured versions were rich in natural flavors, their vegetables never seemed diluted in flavor, their herbs were strong and their sweets were rich while being pleasingly balanced.

THE MERMAID CAFE
Another great meal from another farmer friendly establishment that utilized the wealth of local produce. The food was more refined but never overly complex in execution.

A calming cure of lemon and herbs transformed the fatty flesh of wild salmon into smooth slices of fishy refreshment. Baby spinach that tasted of the garden and a slightly unnecessary but completely delicious deep fried artichoke.



Lamb thymus glands, poached and gently cooked until a creamy softness similar to braised belly. Thick in texture with a soft touch of fatty richness, the sweetbreads were delicious. The same style of greens as the last dish that helped bring a herbal element to the heavy sweetbreads. Jerusalem artichokes were roasted which brought out their starchy sweetness and the addition of capers, olive and tomatoes made for a zesty balance.

The star of the day was a quickly cooked piece of fluke with pickled cucumbers, potato-fennel-chive mash and brilliant bay prawns. Flaky, with a fresh taste of the sea, the fluke was wonderful, but the prawns are what I'll remember. Tasting no more than a few hours old, they were sweet, succulent, rich and completely amazing. Tossed with a bit of brown butter, they were really more of a condiment than a focus, but they stole the show. The pickle on the cucumber was solid while never overtaking the basic flavor.


GRUEL
A bit less of a restaurant and more of a dining area, Gruel wasn't thought of any less than that of the other places. Sitting in a cramped area with disposable table covers while reading from a stationary chalkboard menu, I listened to the noise and smiled. Lively atmosphere run by two cooks and three waiters, there wasn't the least bit of pretension. The items were few but the amount of focus put into their daily changing offerings made everything one to enjoy.

Not very authentic to Irish cuisine but made using Irish ingredients, the tagliatelle was decent. Some minor flaws (The peas were a bit starchy, and the mint could have been stronger) but were made up by big chunks of Parmigiano-Reggiano, fresh asparagus and loads of butter.

I also had a dish of spicy meriguz sausages over apricot couscous slathered with a harrisa yogurt.
Food that had hiccups and slight mishaps, but was enjoyable by the thought that came with each plate.

As many places that have the technical skill to back up their ideas, there were some restaurants that just couldn't come through.

BLEU
A newer places within the city. With a snazzy looking dining room and simple architecture, the restaurant looked like a new york establishment, only with an Irish beer tap at the bar. Style plays a big part in the comfort of a meal, but so does tasty food...This was a place that tried to come off as sleek and innovative but tripped and fell with every move. A plate of highly under-seasoned potatoes , scallops overdone and black pudding that was a dry tough skinned round of bloody oatmeal. Then, to grain on a peeve of mine, the garnish of micro-greens was wilted. Instead of brightening up the plate it just disgusted.

The same was to be said about the sea bass with mussels, saffron cream and new potato mash. Horribly dry fish, burnt bread crumbs, (again) 'sbuds that were (AGAIN) under-seasoned.

When in doubt use berry coulis. Looks great, usually tastes good enough and can go with anything. Bleu makes a great berry coulis. Redundant or not, it was tart on the start but finished with a deep sweetness that only actual juice can give. Good enough to order as a side serving or even as a soup course, and possibly frozen as a sherbet. It was one of the best things of the night, and when talking about a dessert sauce, that really isn't a good thing. The rest of the plate was a sugar filled attempt at lime sorbet, orange panna cotta, and lemon madelines that really didn't hit their mark.

Dublin is planting its feet in the ground of the culinary world. Restaurants like Bleu are unavoidable. They look great, they feel great but they don't taste that way. And in the end they won't be there at all. The ones that matter will be the ones that people remember. Places that follow seasonal availability of produce, use local meats and most importantly treat it with dignity and respect. For places like The Winding Stair and The Mermaid Cafe, it looks like Dublin is going to be going in a great direction. Even as followers come, they will still only be second to the ones that matter.