Ever thought of bringing a 12 week old baby to a Michelin-starred restaurant? I probably wouldn’t have either. Until I met Squeak.
They say that babies are like farts in that you can just about tolerate your own. This doesn’t seem to adhere to myself and Squeak. I am of no blood relation to this little cutie yet I must confess to being utterly smitten. I had originally intended to have just her mother Jocelyn accompany me on my trip to L’Ecrivain but, we thought, that wouldn’t be very fair on Squeak now, would it?
First things first, I had to suss out how this long-standing posh-nosh emporium would fly with us having a baby on board for lunch. So, I broached the idea when I rang to make the reservation.
L’E: “Hello, L’Ecrivain, how may I help you?”
TD: “Um, hello, yes, I’d like to book a table for lunch this Friday.”
L’E: “Wonderful. And how many is that for?”
TD: “Um…well…it’s for two…and a half. The half is…um…it’s a baby.”
L’E: “A baby?! Oh, how lovely!”
We were in.
And so it was on a Friday that us three ladies trotted off to L’Ecrivain for lunch, with emergency nappies in tow. We were greeted at the door, Squeak’s stroller given a nod of recognition by the lady who welcomed us in.
L’Ecrivain is owned by Derry and Sally-Anne Clarke, who’ve been hosting fancy lunches and dinners to discerning Dubliners for the last 22 years. The Michelin star status means the dinner prices are out of reach for the vast majority of us. So was lunch any more affordable?
The restaurant does a fixed price lunch menu at €23.50 for three courses. As we perused our menus in the beautifully high-ceilinged and calm main room of L’Ecrivain, it became clear that almost two-thirds of the options had additional supplements of between €3 and €10.
Still, we managed to have an exceedingly agreeable lunch by sticking somewhat within our €23.50 boundaries. For starters, Jocelyn had the Chilled Gazpacho while I went for the Veal Sweetbreads which came with a €5 supplement. Sweetbreads are the heart, belly and stomach of the calf: what is barbarous and vile to some is succulent and divine to others, myself included. The sautéed gnocchi and the tomato terrine with purée set off this light and elegant yet old-school dish sublimely.
Jocelyn’s Gazpacho was served with a side of fine dining theatrics. Her giant white plate was placed delicately before her. A few lonely looking croutons sat upon a few swirls of basil oil. One of our waiters appeared with a jug of the Gazpacho which was gingerly poured over her dish while our eyes lit up. Even Squeak’s. Although I’m not quite sure if she can properly see yet. I think she liked the bright colours.
For mains, I had the Clare Island Salmon. “Boring!” I hear you say, but nay, it was lovely (and supplement free). It had that crispy skin that Torode and Wallace talk excitedly about on Masterchef UK. It sat upon a large tablespoon of perfectly cooked saffron risotto while a smattering of mussels and glowing broad beans took turns at wowing my taste buds. A glistening of gremolata – a garlic, parsley and lemon zest mixture – gave it a loving kick.
Jocelyn went for the Hake which did its €8 supplement proud, right down to the aesthetic of the dish. It was so very pretty with petit pois á la Francaise and farfalle pasta perfectly positioned around the piece of glorious fish as it sat glistening on the ginormous L’Ecrivain plate.
For dessert, I had a seasonal Pannacotta with gooseberry parfait, yogurt foam, and gooseberry and elderflower sorbet. It felt like eating the dreams of our childhood Irish summers, where the sun shone everyday. Jocelyn went for the White Peach dessert, which was vanilla and balsamic ripple ice-cream with poached peach, crushed honeycomb and peach froth all bunged together in a large martini glass. A luscious grown-up sundae.
The portions were a little small perhaps, but every mouthful was astonishingly designed. The staff’s treatment of Squeak and her mum was our lunch’s real cherry on the top. While Squeak may be a fallen angel on this earth, even angels get wind. When Squeak got a little, well, too squeaky, a senior member of the waiting staff (our youngest waiter told us she’d been with the restaurant for 15 years) took charge and let Jocelyn use one of the private rooms as a place to help the little babe chillax. Her and all of her colleagues were wonderful to us throughout.
Our final bill for three courses each plus two bottles of still water and two coffees came to €87.64. That included a 12.5% gratuity but the staff were worth a lot more than that. We left what we could and promised to return for Squeak’s 18th birthday. No doubt L’Ecrivain will still be there providing its understated and subtle service to the lucky folk who find themselves in its dining rooms.
L’Ecrivain
109A Lower Baggot Street
Dublin 2
01 661 1919
