Conversation starter

A new café and boutique in Dublin 8 is like an Irish house party, with everyone chatting in the kitchen, writes CATHERINE CLEARY

YOU DON’T HAVE to arrive at Bibi’s Café by Dutch bike, but if you do you will be among your tribe. This is Dublin 8, darling. Young men with satchels and outsize headphones sit outside. If Cath Kidston designs an iPad case, expect to see it here soon.

Bibi’s Café on Emorville Avenue off the South Circular Road arrived just as the sun did in April. Sisters Maisha and Petria Lenehan kitted out the ground floor of a corner redbrick as a dress shop and café. For some reason the frocks won the toss when it came to deciding who got the bigger half of the building, but more of that later.

On a Friday afternoon, an eclectic mix of diners has filled the small café with noisy chat. Two white-haired friends, a man and a woman whose combined age predates the street, are starting with a glass each of chilled white wine. Their conversation never wanes, ranging from the nerve of Ivor Callely to the way Anne Doyle says “take care” at the end of the news with that gleam in her eye.

The long gossipy lunch is alive and well and idling away an afternoon here. Every detail, from the basket that holds the clean tea towels to the smooth green plates, cups and pottery bowls by Cley, has had thought put into it. The place is small and gorgeous, like many of its customers. But almost despite all that, the food is wonderful.

I choose the black bean soup with tomato salsa (€6.50), and my friend has the pan toastie with ham, Gubbeen cheese and chutney (€6.50). We share a salad plate of red rice with mango, peanut and coconut and discs of roasted aubergine with beetroot tzatziki (€9.50). She has a glass of the house white, a Picpoul de Pinet (€5.95) and I have an orange juice (€2.50).

On first stir, my chunky bowl of soup reveals a duck egg-sized blob of crème fraiche sunk in the centre. This is a soup that sings. There are perfectly cooked black beans with bite in them. The raw, fresh tomato, red onion and coriander salsa add fantastic flavour and it all has a background warmth of cumin, just spicy enough without blurring individual tastes.

My friend, a mean soup cook herself, experiences a twinge of plate envy. But her toastie is streets away from the average greasy slab that pubs serve in a singed plastic envelope. It’s buttery and crisp on the outside with real ham and a great chutney. Her salad is dressed with a moreish honey-sweet vinaigrette.

I’m not a fan of the rice salad. Too many chilly tasteless concoctions involving soggy raisins and tinned pineapple fuel my belief that rice and pasta should only be served hot. But the Bibi’s version is a cut above, nutty and delicious. The aubergines are delicately cooked, neither soggy nor leathery, the cerise pink beetroot topping a perfect partner.

Around us, actual rather than virtual conversations are at full pelt. There is never a lull. Friends are talking about life, love and everything else. “I actually am the best thing that ever happens to a man,” a beautiful blonde says to her friend. “I fix them up. And they all go on to marry their next girlfriends.”

For dessert, my white chocolate and passion fruit baked cheesecake (€4.95) is good, but the juicy passion fruit seeds on top have baked to dried lentil hardness that is a little too crackly between the teeth. An espresso chocolate and caramel cake (€4.95) is a touch on the sweet side. These are minor quibbles. Camomile tea (€2.95) is served in a heavy stone pot that pours out enough for two cups. And an Americano (€2.50) is good.

The locals are thrilled with their new café. Maisha is a Ballymaloe graduate who knew when she chopped her first onion that she had found her niche. Her mother Emily taught them to appreciate home cooking and she works alongside her daughter in Bibi’s.

When summer ends I imagine the pressure might be on to shift a few dress rails and let the food colonise the fashion end. Right now, the place is like an Irish house party, with everyone crammed in the kitchen. Fun but noisy and the tables are elbow-rubbing close. And yes, almost everyday someone asks what paint colour they’ve used on the woodwork. They should have shares in Farrow and Ball, Maisha says when I ask. At this rate, every second kitchen in Dublin will be painted “Lamp Room Grey”. How very D8.

Lunch for two with one glass of house white comes to €46.30.