Routing the carvery cavalry

If you don't have a spare mammy to hand, you can still get your fill of Sunday roast without resorting to the dreaded
heatlamp specials, writes CATHERINE CLEARY

EVEN THE SNOOTIEST of us loves a spot of mammy food. Ditch the jus for gravy, the tians and quennelles of things for spuds, carrots, with crispy bits, fatty bits and plenty in the oven for seconds. But the typical mammy ripped off her gravy-spattered apron a long time ago and went off to Pilates so the traditional Sunday lunch is now outsourced to pubs.

And so came the carvery. I would cross the road to avoid a carvery. The carvery cavalry gets a plate of meat carved from a joint that has basked for hours under a heatlamp with a side of overboiled veg and potatoes. It’s food that mammy might make if mammy was feeling particularly vengeful.

I’m heading to Croke Park for the hurling semi-final and somehow a traditional Sunday lunch seems fitting fare so we’ve done a bit of planning and emailed the Exchequer Gastropub on Exchequer Street. It’s the clever solution to cooking a Sunday lunch without having to do the slog yourself or put up with food left to languish into inedibility. You order your lunch on a Friday. It comes in a portion for four with vegetables and a bottle of wine. We’ve gone for the beef roast, the most expensive option at €59 for four.

This place declares itself to be that tricky concept with which Ireland is still grappling: a gastropub. The pub elements are a couple of flatscreen tellies switched to sports (mercifully not in the room where we eat) and a full bar near the door.

The gastro bit is obvious from the menu, which has tasty-sounding dishes with impressive ingredients. It’s set in the heart of brunchville, where bleary-eyed young folk stumble from their beds around midday to recover over pancakes and eggy nursery staples.

And the first sign that we’ve moved down an age notch is the €6 mojito listed on the menu. Take that you ubiquitous €7 prosecco. We’re hanging with the kids.

Large windows in the end room overlook the street. The comfortable chairs are upholstered in something that resembles grey business-suit material. An oil-painting of a bodhran player surveys proceedings.

And the food is good. A scallop starter with black pudding crust, Glebe Brethan cheese and spring onion is served in a large scallop shell (that in another age were only used in pubs as ashtrays). The scallops are a little watery for my taste but the combination of all the ingredients works. A shared starter of foie gras parfait is pronounced delicious by the couple sharing it. Doorsteps of toasted fresh brioche (not the two-day-old crispy sort) come with it and they are pillowy and sweet.

My butternut squash soup is a little too blended for me (I like chunks in a soup or at least texture) but it comes with a tasty olive bread. All it needs is some roasted onions or a similarly punchy garnish to dial up the flavour.

Then there’s a general clear-up of the table to make way for the main event. First to come is a big gravy boat full of a lovely, thin, meaty gravy. A great big slab of beef on the bone comes on a wooden chopping board with the carving tools. Separate hot bowls of roasted carrots (not boiled), French beans and cauliflower, a scallion mash and an apricot and walnut stuffing come too. And nestled up to the side of the meat are some small but pretty perfect roasties.

Liam has to stand to carve (I can imagine this gives young folk a laugh as they play at being grown-ups) and he doles out good slices of the meat, crispy on the outside and still pink (or maybe not quite pink but beige) inside. It’s tender and tasty.

A bottle of Spanish Grenache and Carignan wine Mas Sardana comes with the deal and tap water is on hand. All that’s missing is a couple of Yorkshire puddings but the walnut and apricot stuffing nearly make up for that.

Sadly, we forget to ask for a doggy bag as they’re clearing the table because there’s enough meat for roast beef sandwiches for a couple of lunches. Time and quantities of food mean we skip dessert and coffees. Like the match later there were no surprises here, just a deft display of traditional skill and how things could be done on any given Sunday.

Lunch for four with shared starters and a mojito (for the man in his 30s) came to €92.30.

The Exchequer Bar

Exchequer Street, Dublin 2, tel: 01-6706787

Music: None where we sat but piped pop in the bar area

Facilities: Subterranean but clean

Wheelchair access: Yes but bathrooms are downstairs

Food provenance: Mullingar Meats and McGeough's of Connemara for fresh and air dried meats. Cheese producers such as Glebe Brethan are also name-checked

Coeliac friendly: A coeliac symbol to denote dishes adapatable on order

Not so peachy keen

Somewhere in the KC Peaches training programme, it must tell staff to say "En-joy" as they put something down in front of you. Twice the young women in their KC Peaches Dublin, Ireland T-shirts said it with an impressive lack of sincerity.

In fairness, I'd probably be glassy-eyed too if I was doing a shift in this place. It was hot and clammy the afternoon I visited. And disinterested service would be fine if the food was brilliant, but it was very ordinary. A Ranelagh Roarer (no, I've no idea either) sandwich was a Gubeen chorizo sandwich teamed with bread soaked in black olive tapenade with soggy mozzarella and large basil leaves (€6.50). The nicest element was a side salad of some fresh baby spinach and rocket leaves.

The sense of a post-lunchtime-rush-lull was as heavy as the heat-tray humidity. This enterprise has an admirable set of aspirations for good, slow food, well-sourced and served at speed to hungry lunchers. But goals like these may be easier to aspire to than deliver. This is the second outlet for this venture, which began on Pearse Street. The basement on Nassau Street is also being transformed into a wine bar so it seems to have a chain of businesses in its sights. I'd prefer to see them improve things on the ground floor first.

A sandwich, coffee and a bottled iced tea came to €11.40.

KC Peaches 28/29 Nassau St, Dublin 2, tel: 01-6336879