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| There's a story I've heard a few
times - it may be apocryphal - that in the middle ages the apprentices'
guild made a stipulation that their members should be given salmon no more
than three times a week. I've thought about that a bit, and assuming that
it's true then two things emerge. Firstly salmon must have been plentiful.
So plentiful, in fact, that it must have been considered a cheap food -
a food fit for neophyte apprentices. Secondly, coupled with the fact that
until recently fish was a penitential Friday dish, then these two points
might just explain why traditionally fish has been given scant respect as
food in this island.
And that's surprising given the very point that this is an island. We're surrounded by ocean, and therefore by fish. It ought to be the backbone of traditional Irish cuisine, yet it's not. If you contrast the Irish attitude to fish to that of continental Europeans you'll find that it's the exact opposite. In France, Spain and Italy fish is considered a treat, it's a food fit for kings, it's what you serve to honoured guests. This might be a function of the fact that kilo for kilo fish is more expensive that meat on the continent, whereas until recently that wasn't the case here. Because we had an abundance of fish, it was cheap and unappreciated. Joining the European Community hasn't just meant Spanish factory ships hoovering up any fish moving in our waters, it has also meant that any fish landed here can be sold for export to a market that pays good money for fresh fish. That's why fish, which is getting scarcer in the ocean anyway, is getting more expensive here. That's offset a bit by the rise in fish farming - apart from salmon there's a whole range of fish now being farmed - and that keeps the price down. Personally I try to avoid farmed fish, but that's another story. But the fact remains that rising prices is bringing fish a new respect. Before I finish this piscatorial discourse, there's one final generalisation I want to get off my chest and it's this: how is it that anywhere I go in the south or west I can get good seafood, but I can't on the east coast? There's sea over here as well, so it can't be because of unavailability. So we get to the point in Dublin that if anyone asks 'where can I get good seafood?' the answer seems to be 'Caviston's', which for a city of a million inhabitants is a limited choice. Now there's a 'Caviston' offshoot (note the singularity) which is in Monkstown Crescent, that stretch of road that has more restaurants per yard than Temple Bar. I went there this week with Gill Hall, the perfect companion for a fish restaurant visit since she doesn't eat meat and anyway, we had her birthday to celebrate. The first thing you notice about Caviston is that it's clearly been designed - rather nicely too. The entrance is offset from the pavement a bit, allowing room for outside tables for whenever the weather becomes clement again. Inside there's a counter on your left as you enter, and beyond that there's the dining room. There's a mezzanine as well, presumably for overspill, but we sat right in the middle of the room, allowing us a view of most of the surroundings, including the large stylised fish which adorn one wall and whose shape serves as the logo on the bills of fare. A few oils are on the walls, the tables are wood and so are the chairs. The whole effect is one of quite chic modernity, crisp lines and uncluttered feel. The wine list is simple enough, but there's a varied choice across the globe and plenty of white wines to pick from. We chose a Madfish Bay Semillon / Chardonnay blend to go with our meal, which was priced at €26.50. The menu is entirely fish; there was a menu of specials and a dinner menu to look through, but we were too late for the early bird at €25. The dinner menu offered eight starters and six main courses and there were a further three of each on the specials, so there was plenty of choice. Gill started with a sweet potato soup which she thought 'perfectly delicious' and I started with a special, the squid and clam stew, which turned out to be very good and not very stew-like, but rather poached and served in a bowl with some very tasty juice at the bottom of it. For main courses Gill had a special, the sea bream on a bed of vegetables which was described as 'Sicilian Baked'. I had the roast cod fillet, which was served with asparagus - a touch undercooked - confit tomatoes and a bed of aubergine mash flavoured with herbs. We were asked did we want to order side orders such as potatoes, but we declined. We both agreed that any dish that costs over €20, as both of these did, really ought to be complete in itself and shouldn't actually need anything else. In the event they didn't, they were well-presented and well cooked, leaving us both contented. Halfway through our main courses the background music was replaced with live guitar and Niall the guitarist was a virtuoso, ranging from slide, to picking, to classical with fluent ease. He quite won Gill over. The nice thing about a fish meal is that it doesn't leave you feeling bloated, so we were able to finish up with a shared crème brulee, while enjoying the guitar concerto. A coffee for me ended this meal, which I enjoyed. The service had been attentive and prompt, the fish well-prepared, the room pleasing and the music excellent. All in all one of the better meals of late, which had this been in an Italian restaurant, would have cost a great deal more than the €99.90 it did. |
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| (c) Paolo Tullio, 2004 | |||||