Restaurant Reviews

John McKenna dons his MIB shades to enjoy The Killarney Park Hotel

A jewel in a sea of touristic dross, The Killarney Park Hotel has a claim to being the best run hotel in Ireland. So well run, in fact, that not only can you eat in the dining room of the hotel with confidence, you can even eat in the bar of the hotel with complete confidence. Manger Donagh Davern and his team show spit and polish all round: the entire place gleams in a fashion you wish your own house could manage, and the cooking is sparkling too. So, feed the kids in the bar on some fab battered fish, excellent fresh pastas and pristine local sausages and chips, park them upstairs in bed - alright, park them upstairs in front of a video then - and it's dinnertime!

Asparagus tips with sauce gribiche, and a risotto of pea and crab with a base of shellfish bisque are tickety-boo starters, whilst their delicacy is a stark contrast to the ruddiness of roast stuffed saddle of rabbit, and herb-crusted canon of lamb which has some ace potato dumplings to set off the sweetness with something starchy. The sheer elegance of the food, right through to superb chocolate desserts, is shot through with the confident understatement which is the hallmark of this benchmark destination. But that understatement is won by sheer hard work: nothing is left to chance in the Killarney Park.

Kenmare Place, Killarney, County Kerry Tel: 064 35555 www.killarneyparkhotel.ie

Elizabeth Field wants to clone The Cross of Cloyne

Whitewashed walls, a casually stylish black-and-blue-themed interior, simple but delicious food, and a big buzz. That's the Cross of Cloyne for you - the sort of place you wish was in every country village.

Set in unspoiled medieval Cloyne, Colm Falvey's 3-year-old small restaurant and adjoining bar are direct and straightforward. No fancy faux-French fussiness here; just super-fresh (and often local) ingredients prepared with skill and verve. You can have a big char-grilled steak on a bed of champ potatoes, or meltingly delicious poached Blackwater wild salmon with a cucumber hollandaise sauce (in season) or a big fat juicy pan-fried fishcake with a lemony coriander mayonnaise dressing. What's lovely here is that the simplest dishes are done right - a starter Salad Italiano features perfectly ripe plum tomatoes and avocado slices (a rare commodity),peppery young greens, fresh buffalo mozzarella and black olives, all united in a delicious lemony vinaigrette.

Home-made breads and desserts are nothing to sneeze at, and the house wine and overall list are decent enough. It's not exactly a cheap feed (what is, in Ireland these days?), but you get good value for money. If only you could clone the Cross to your own locale.

Church St., Cloyne, Co Cork, tel: (021) 465 2401

Caroline Workman rates Jacob's Ladder amongst the best in Dublin.

Dublin restaurants enjoy the benefits of a dense population and a vibrant tourist trade. They also seem to suffer a high proportion of 'no-shows' - rude customers who don't bother to cancel reservations - so expect a phone call to remind you of your booking. When you're not used to it, the call feels slightly accusatory. When you've eaten at Jacob's Ladder, you'll wonder how anyone could miss a meal here.

The restaurant occupies two upper floors on Dublin city centre's busy Nassau Street, overlooking Trinity playing fields, if you can see through the stream of buses. It's handy for lunch after Grafton Street shopping, or visits to the National Gallery, but the restaurant comes into its own in the evening when warm lighting disguises the tired, unfinished appearance of the rooms, and slightly grubby carpet of its narrow winding stairway. At night its relaxed, simple smartness is very welcoming.

A smiling pair of uniformed waiters meets us at the door but seem to freeze when we give them the details of our reservation. I look to the left and realise they're deferring to the burly Maitre d'. There seems to be a strict hierarchy here. It means that service has a clipped French efficiency, but it's also a tad too mechanical with the team appearing intent on getting through the evening as speedily as possible, never really connecting with the customers - so our wine is topped up too quickly, our dishes whisked away within seconds of the last forkful, the orders for desserts and coffees rushed through.

The kitchen corrects the balance with extremely well timed food, but you really do need peace to study the menu. Detailed descriptions of intricately prepared, rich dishes require careful reading and a large appetite - unless you've eaten here before, or haven't suffered a legacy of meals characterised by badly judged portions. From a chef's point of view, this is labour intensive food, each dish testing techniques that most modern menus avoid.

However there are plenty of imaginative modernisms too. If your liver groans at the idea of roast squab pigeon with braised leg, pate, roasted carrots, herbed mash and port sauce, you can opt for fillet of tuna which sounds clean and green with celery pesto, green olive tapenade, spinach and confit potato or pan roasted fillet of salmon which its taste bud tickling fruity sauce of orange and rhubarb. The interplay of sweet and savoury reaches its zenith at dessert when strawberries come served with sweet tomato and black olive confit and basil sorbet.

The wine choice is simpler, with fine wines on a separate list and the 'regular' list carefully edited. The Sancerre (Domaine de la Mercy-Die, B.Bally-Reverdy Loire 2001) is served at an all but glacial temperature, but this lean, tart wine is deliciously crisp, bold enough to match the food without competing for attention.

When our food arrives, we understand why the Maitre d' hasn't been overly helpful with our choice: everything is utterly delicious. From the plump, crisp fitters of prune and apricot that offset the dense, earthy smoothness of the foie gras terrine and the spiky, peppery herb salad which makes the scallops sing - the sweet bite of beetroot, and the perfectly cooked lentils drawing attention to this seafood's melting texture.

Texture plays an important role with our mains. Stunningly tender spring lamb is served on a nutty almost chewy, rosti of deeply flavoured cepe risotto, and a mealy mound of minced belly 'en crepinette'. A sturdy, lush fillet of monkfish comes on a bed of silky butter bean puree, and deliciously moreish crushed potatoes infused with Provencal herbs and the mellifluous aroma of red pepper. The citrus oil of lemon and orange is unexpectedly syrupy, but works brilliantly.

Desserts are entirely manageable. Dainty, intriguing and playful you finish on a high with dishes such as passion fruit brulee whose frothing kirsch sabayon laps at a 'boule' of coconut and chilli sorbet, and a diced tumble of caramelised pineapple.

We leave with a trip in our step, knowing it has been worth every penny we've spent. Next time, it might be me, rather than the Maitre d', who phones to reconfirm my reservation; just to be sure I get that table.

4-5 Nassau Street , Dublin 2 , Tel: 01 670 3865

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