Fair weather food at Packie’s

God loves the Gathering. It’s the only conclusion we can draw from the heatwave. She swept out the dank old clouds to prepare the good room for a visit from the relatives. Then she polished the sea to a sparkle and put all her best stuff on display.

Hotelier Francis Brennan couldn’t have organised a better makeover and I’m in his hometown of Kenmare in Co Kerry for dinner in the town’s best known restaurant, Packie’s.

It’s not an offensively-titled Indian restaurant (Packie’s is probably not a name that could be used anywhere outside of Ireland) but was, in its day, Kerry’s answer to Ballymaloe. It was run by chef patron Maura Foley, who now cooks at her much-lauded Kenmare guesthouse Shelburne Lodge. Cheffing at Packie’s has passed to young chef Martin Hallissey.

Kenmare has managed to keep a heart in its centre, the organ given up by so many Irish towns to the ring-road shopping-centre. There are restaurants and cafes dotted along its streets. On the weekend of the Kenmare Food Carnival these had colonised the parking spaces with tables and chairs. There’s a book shop, a music shop and a sweet shop. Even the cop shop is handsome, a stone-cut building looking sternly down on the busy streets.

A former pub, Packie’s is painted terracotta orange outside and decked out cottage-style inside. Its thick stone walls are plastered in vanilla-painted render as roughly as if the plasterer had flung the mortar from horseback. The place is packed and roasting. It’s been built to keep people cosy rather than cool. So despite an open side door, everyone is rosy-cheeked with the heat.

There are a number of accents bouncing off the walls, English, Scottish and Irish. The menu is handwritten and photocopied and is a reminder that in summertime the cooking is easy. At this time of the year, seasonal greens mean something much more enticing than they might in February.

My salad of Gubbeen smoked bacon, Cashel Blue cheese and seasonal leaves is a big, hearty platter. There are wedges of purple pickled pear and toasted walnuts to add crunch, tang and sweetness to the smoky meat and cheese. The leaves, from local grower Billy Clifford, have that bite and fire that tell you they weren’t chosen by a bagged salad buyer. The salad also has those yellow cherry tomatoes that are the Jelly Tots of the vegetable world.

My main course is a plate of breadcrumbed fried scallops with lemon butter. There are six of them, some roe on, crisp on the outside and still silky inside. They are served on a white plate with a sprig of fennel and a puddle of lemon butter. Colcannon made with fresh parsley is gorgeous with it and there are some excellent baby beets roasted in a side dish. The only vegetable that hasn’t been done any favours by the kitchen is some slightly rubbery sprouting brocolli.

The special dessert of the day is hazelnut meringue with Billy Clifford’s strawberries. The friendly waitress comes back to tell me “Martin has forgotten to put the hazelnuts in the meringue”. But that’s fine. It’s a beige, house-cooked nest with gluey insides, fluffy cream and strawberries that make you close your eyes and try to hold onto the flavour as a memory for the winter ahead.

At the end of the night the diners all join in a rendition of “Happy Birthday” to Annie, who goes pink with delight. Like Kenmare itself, Packie’s isn’t doing anything ground-breaking. No boats are being pushed out. It’s a pleasure cruise around the favourites, the best that surf and turf have to offer and the kind of Irish restaurant experience about which they might tell the folks back home.

Dinner for one with two glasses of wine came to €58.15.