Review -> Fenn’s Quay Restaurant, Cork City

On Monday evening, Fenn’s Quay had a great honour bestowed on it when it became the inaugural restaurant in my series of reviews with Corklife magazine.

Before leaving the house for our 7:30pm booking, I spent some time in front of the mirror practising the facial affectations that I knew would be vital to me in my new life as a food critic. I liked my “unimpressed” face best, but my wife felt that my “critical” face seemed more authentic, possibly due to years of practice.

The pressure of trying to be the next AA Gill (without the alcoholism, dyslexia and xenophobia hopefully) must have been getting to me because, within thirty seconds of walking through the doors of Fenn’s Quay, I clumsily knocked a wine glass over, smashing it loudly and alarming the family at the table next to me. As I stood there in suspended animation wondering if I should cover up by joyously shouting “Mazel tov!” and hugging my wife, smooth owner, Kevin Crowley, ghosted over with dustpan and brush and deftly saved me from my discomfort.

A reassuring bowl of fresh Batch-style bread and a glass of voluptuous Sicilian white, Villa Tonino Grillo 2008, promptly arrived to further put me at my ease. My wife, who is a budding sparkling wine connoisseur, had the Ginglinger Cremant d’Alsace and her only complaint was that she couldn’t have more of it. I had warned her that we needed to sample widely from the list, so we could only order glasses.

The winelist in Fenn’s Quay shows all the signs of having been lovingly chosen by someone with a genuine passion for, and knowledge of, wines. This was no surprise to me, however, as I had previously been to a private tasting of Greek wines (see here) organised by Kevin, and I had on that occasion sampled one or two other gems from his list as well.

The starters looked so good that I accidentally ordered a vegetarian one – Courgette Fritters with Sundried Tomatoes and Melted Brie Cheese. This was a creamy and satisfying dish that would have passed for a main if you had put some chips next to it. The Antipasto Plate was a deceptively-decadent cornucopia of hummus, aubergine caviar, beetroot salsa, red peppers, olives, chickpeas, presented flawlessly with toasted focaccia and a herb olive dip.

Mains were just as impressive. Pappardelle Pasta was jazzed up with gourmet black pepper sausages and sea asparagus. I hadn’t encountered the latter before. It is a more delicate, salt tolerant, version of regular asparagus and it grows, as you might imagine, by the sea. Char-Grilled Lamb Chump was cooked medium-rare as ordered and was accompanied by spicy couscous, tzatiki, pea puree and cumin flatbreads.

The various suppliers to the restaurant are listed discreetly at the foot of the menu; this is a helpful appendix in an era where many consumers are concerned about issues like local sourcing or food traceability. My lamb came from a farmer in Wexford, while the sausages were produced by Tom Durcan Butchers.

The bill, including a delicious French Apple Tart, and glasses of Touraine Malbec and dessert wine Kracher Auslese 2007, came to €75, not including tip.

All in all, an exceptional dining experience which went some way to explaining the abundance of customers eating there on a Monday evening during the worst recession in decades.