19 East Essex Street, Dublin 2
www.milano.ie
Yesterday was Suzanne's birthday. Unlike me, who maintains as low a profile as possible on mine, Suzanne loves hers. So when she asked me to come out for dinner for it, of course I said yes. It was following this assent that she mentioned that there would be 10 other guests: all of them women, and then me. Right. A night listening to tales of babies, boyfriends, and shoes. Even better, I'm not taking alcohol during Lent - but knowing these girls, I was sure I'd be the only teetotaller at the table. Turned out I was.
Suzanne had tried to book Milano in Dawson Street, but they were closed for renovations. I used to love that Milano. When we were 23, it seemed to have a certain level of sophistication for kids coming from pre-Celtic Tiger Ireland, where eating in restaurants was reserved for First Communion days. It had good pizzas, it served until about midnight, and it had a great noise about it. The food was Italian for non-Italians, the décor was Nordic, and the buzz meant you had to raise your voice to be heard, yet simultaneously it kept you feeling cosy. Like eating inside a kettle drum that was being beaten softly. Now we're older, and more cynical and weary, and we know that Milano got taken over by Pizza Express, so it has the negative cachet of being part of a UK high-street chain. And we don't like it so much any more.
So, when I heard we were marrying this pizza outfit with the hen-party drag of East Essex Street (an unfortunately comedic coincidence, no doubt), I wasn't overly optimistic. But it turns out I was pleasantly surprised.
I arrived at Milano with Aoife, following a quick stop at the Morgan - which is fast becoming the default choice for early-evening meet-ups in that area of town. The interior of Milano is actually quite nice: blanched wood furniture, blue glass lighting, and large ceiling-to-floor vitrines allowing you to gawp at the tourists and the tasteless tottering the cobblestones of Temple Bar in stilettos. We descended a spiral staircase to a basement room - not as nicely decorated as the ground floor. Boring, but not overly offensive. Like eating in a store café at Debenhams.
All of the other guests had already arrived, and were strung out along a series of small, square tables, placed end to end. A circular table abutted this structure, and provided the only space left. It was where I sat, totally removed physically and psychologically from the conversation further along.
Our friendly and talkative waitress, who was originally from Eindhoven, came along and took the order. It being a night of unmodulated vapidity in any discourse for me, I concentrated on selecting food for myself. Actually, I think my most intimate chats that night involved these orders. It might have been due to my ordering in Dutch. Because otherwise, I was hardly spoken to all night, and by the same token, didn't feel like initiating conversation with anyone either. Once upon a time, not so very long ago, this would have visibly annoyed me; tonight, actually, I didn't give a shit. Must mean the blood pressure tablets are still working.
My starter was a Caesar salad, presented as a large plate of cos lettuce, croutons, very long and very generous shavings of parmesan cheese (no six-week's-grated rubbish, like you often find proffered elsewhere), croutons and a pleasant creamy sauce - not forgetting a half-dozen sizeable anchovies. Loved it.
If you go to Milano, you really have to choose pizza for main course - not because there is no other choice, but because they do pizzas well. I wanted something without meat, and in too many places that means a boring old Margherita. Here I enjoyed an newly-introduced menu option: the Padana, described as "a perfect balance of big, bold northern Italian flavours – rich goat's cheese, spinach and red onion with tangy caramelised onion confit and a drizzle of garlic oil". And you know what? It did exactly what it said on the tin. Rich, creamy cheese; onions sweet and tangy as described; spinach, a perfect addition; and a wonderful meeting of flavours. I added a fried egg on top. I had also asked for some chilli oil, but it never arrived; that might have been the ultimate element in making this a 100% great pizza.
By this stage, I was completely disconnected from the rest of the invitees, and so tunnel-visioned the dessert menu. Surprising, as prior to arrival, I had had no intention of enjoying this restaurant. I chose a simple-sounding Caffè Reale, consisting of about six sumptuous baby figs in a cinnamon and sweet wine syrup, served in a small ramekin dish, topped with a large spoonful of Mascarpone, and accompanied by a satisfyingly-bitter espresso. I knew Suzie and the girls were enjoying themselves: the wine was flowing, as were the laughs, the chat and the make-up. But I think that in my isolated little corner, right at that moment, I was having the best experience of them all.
What can I say? Against all my previous prejudices, I'm liking Milano again. It's not the Savoy, but you know what you're getting, and the service is still friendly. I am not a fan of their below-stairs area in Temple Bar, and would probably return only to their Dawson Street restaurant. But I am liking it, and if it takes me back ten years every now and again, so much the better.
PS. This was a communally-paid bill, so my data below refers only to my own choices, and service is not included.
PPS. The link to the website given here will take you to a one-page static template, which acts as a cover to the Pizza Express UK site. I am tired of the increasingly lazy approach to web-marketing in Ireland by foreign HQ'd firms. One of the first advertisements you see on the way into Dublin Airport arrivals, once you walk past the glass engravings in semi-literate Irish, is for a Dublin-located business operation. Their ad is emblazoned with a .co.uk website. Yeah - céad míle fáilte an' all that to you, too. Do you know it costs far less than €100 a year to get a .ie address, and buys far more than the equivalent in goodwill? Almost unbelievably, Milano's website directs you to a menu quoted in sterling and a restaurant locator that tells you the nearest outlets to Dublin are in Belfast and Liverpool. It's just not good enough.
PPPS. Happy birthday, Suzie. This year is gonna be a great one.
_________________
The Damage (EUR)
Starter
Total 27.60
_________________
The Score
3.5 Food and Drink
4.0 Service
2.5 Décor
1.5 Ambience
3.0 Value
3.0 Overall Rating
www.milano.ie
Yesterday was Suzanne's birthday. Unlike me, who maintains as low a profile as possible on mine, Suzanne loves hers. So when she asked me to come out for dinner for it, of course I said yes. It was following this assent that she mentioned that there would be 10 other guests: all of them women, and then me. Right. A night listening to tales of babies, boyfriends, and shoes. Even better, I'm not taking alcohol during Lent - but knowing these girls, I was sure I'd be the only teetotaller at the table. Turned out I was.
Suzanne had tried to book Milano in Dawson Street, but they were closed for renovations. I used to love that Milano. When we were 23, it seemed to have a certain level of sophistication for kids coming from pre-Celtic Tiger Ireland, where eating in restaurants was reserved for First Communion days. It had good pizzas, it served until about midnight, and it had a great noise about it. The food was Italian for non-Italians, the décor was Nordic, and the buzz meant you had to raise your voice to be heard, yet simultaneously it kept you feeling cosy. Like eating inside a kettle drum that was being beaten softly. Now we're older, and more cynical and weary, and we know that Milano got taken over by Pizza Express, so it has the negative cachet of being part of a UK high-street chain. And we don't like it so much any more.
So, when I heard we were marrying this pizza outfit with the hen-party drag of East Essex Street (an unfortunately comedic coincidence, no doubt), I wasn't overly optimistic. But it turns out I was pleasantly surprised.
I arrived at Milano with Aoife, following a quick stop at the Morgan - which is fast becoming the default choice for early-evening meet-ups in that area of town. The interior of Milano is actually quite nice: blanched wood furniture, blue glass lighting, and large ceiling-to-floor vitrines allowing you to gawp at the tourists and the tasteless tottering the cobblestones of Temple Bar in stilettos. We descended a spiral staircase to a basement room - not as nicely decorated as the ground floor. Boring, but not overly offensive. Like eating in a store café at Debenhams.
All of the other guests had already arrived, and were strung out along a series of small, square tables, placed end to end. A circular table abutted this structure, and provided the only space left. It was where I sat, totally removed physically and psychologically from the conversation further along.
Our friendly and talkative waitress, who was originally from Eindhoven, came along and took the order. It being a night of unmodulated vapidity in any discourse for me, I concentrated on selecting food for myself. Actually, I think my most intimate chats that night involved these orders. It might have been due to my ordering in Dutch. Because otherwise, I was hardly spoken to all night, and by the same token, didn't feel like initiating conversation with anyone either. Once upon a time, not so very long ago, this would have visibly annoyed me; tonight, actually, I didn't give a shit. Must mean the blood pressure tablets are still working.
My starter was a Caesar salad, presented as a large plate of cos lettuce, croutons, very long and very generous shavings of parmesan cheese (no six-week's-grated rubbish, like you often find proffered elsewhere), croutons and a pleasant creamy sauce - not forgetting a half-dozen sizeable anchovies. Loved it.
If you go to Milano, you really have to choose pizza for main course - not because there is no other choice, but because they do pizzas well. I wanted something without meat, and in too many places that means a boring old Margherita. Here I enjoyed an newly-introduced menu option: the Padana, described as "a perfect balance of big, bold northern Italian flavours – rich goat's cheese, spinach and red onion with tangy caramelised onion confit and a drizzle of garlic oil". And you know what? It did exactly what it said on the tin. Rich, creamy cheese; onions sweet and tangy as described; spinach, a perfect addition; and a wonderful meeting of flavours. I added a fried egg on top. I had also asked for some chilli oil, but it never arrived; that might have been the ultimate element in making this a 100% great pizza.
By this stage, I was completely disconnected from the rest of the invitees, and so tunnel-visioned the dessert menu. Surprising, as prior to arrival, I had had no intention of enjoying this restaurant. I chose a simple-sounding Caffè Reale, consisting of about six sumptuous baby figs in a cinnamon and sweet wine syrup, served in a small ramekin dish, topped with a large spoonful of Mascarpone, and accompanied by a satisfyingly-bitter espresso. I knew Suzie and the girls were enjoying themselves: the wine was flowing, as were the laughs, the chat and the make-up. But I think that in my isolated little corner, right at that moment, I was having the best experience of them all.
What can I say? Against all my previous prejudices, I'm liking Milano again. It's not the Savoy, but you know what you're getting, and the service is still friendly. I am not a fan of their below-stairs area in Temple Bar, and would probably return only to their Dawson Street restaurant. But I am liking it, and if it takes me back ten years every now and again, so much the better.
PS. This was a communally-paid bill, so my data below refers only to my own choices, and service is not included.
PPS. The link to the website given here will take you to a one-page static template, which acts as a cover to the Pizza Express UK site. I am tired of the increasingly lazy approach to web-marketing in Ireland by foreign HQ'd firms. One of the first advertisements you see on the way into Dublin Airport arrivals, once you walk past the glass engravings in semi-literate Irish, is for a Dublin-located business operation. Their ad is emblazoned with a .co.uk website. Yeah - céad míle fáilte an' all that to you, too. Do you know it costs far less than €100 a year to get a .ie address, and buys far more than the equivalent in goodwill? Almost unbelievably, Milano's website directs you to a menu quoted in sterling and a restaurant locator that tells you the nearest outlets to Dublin are in Belfast and Liverpool. It's just not good enough.
PPPS. Happy birthday, Suzie. This year is gonna be a great one.
_________________
The Damage (EUR)
Starter
- 6.50 Caesar Salad
- 12.50 Padana Pizza (including fried egg)
- 4.65 Caffè Reale
- 3.95 Clausthaler non-alcoholic lager
Total 27.60
_________________
The Score
3.5 Food and Drink
4.0 Service
2.5 Décor
1.5 Ambience
3.0 Value
3.0 Overall Rating
No comments:
Post a Comment