Some restaurants arrive with a trumpet blast, exuding look-at-me energy. Others quietly put the food in front of you and get on with it. Dining Room in Castlebar falls, with some grace, into the second category. Opened in 2016 by Shirley Stirzaker, who runs front of house, and her husband Kevin, who presides over the kitchen, it’s the sort of place that serves dinner the way it should be served – calm, generous and unfussy.
We go midweek, which is usually code for “prepare to be alone in the diningroom”, but it’s already half full. Locals, by the look of it, plus the odd stray couple. The room is welcoming but not over-designed. A dark wood floor, walls and panelling painted a suave Prussian blue, banquettes to match, and tables dressed in a double layer of tablecloths – blue on top, white linen poking out beneath like a starched collar.
Menus are of the prix fixe variety – €42 or €59, depending on your appetite and sense of adventure. Both include three courses and a sorbet, and the pricier of the two allows for more variety. To call it excellent value is an understatement.
The wine list is accessible. By-the-glass pours sit at around €8 to €9, bottles from €29 to €90, most of them around the €35 mark. There are familiar wines – Loire whites, Beaujolais reds, even a Lebanese bottle. A bottle of Albariño (€38) works nicely with our meal.
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Bread lands before anyone has to ask. Brown soda bread, warm and robust, cut into handsome, seed-studded slices, with a dish of salted farmhouse butter dusted with smoked Achill sea salt.
To start, I have the scallops. There are three – plump, bronzed at the edges, just opaque in the centre – alongside two slices of Kelly’s black pudding. Underneath, a pale, silky purée of cauliflower and artichoke brings a touch of nuttiness. It’s a classic dish – no reinvention – but well balanced and satisfying.
Across the table, the crab. A small heap of fresh white meat, lightly dressed, topped with a golden, deep-fried prawn. Around it, some beetroot, pickled cucumber and a golden swirl of oil perfumed with cumin and turmeric.
Then, the sorbet. Blackberry and verbena. It’s dark, sharp, and finishes with a clean herbal edge, resetting the taste buds with its burst of cool freshness.
For mains, the halibut is thick, gently cooked and breaking into soft flakes. It comes with crab and confit tomato – the latter a touch too exuberant. A little less tomato and the crab might have had more of a say. As it is, it’s not a disaster – just a case of a supporting actor delivering lines meant for someone else. A beurre blanc brings the whole thing back in line – golden, glossy, and cut with just enough acidity.
The steak is a Hereford sirloin – not the fillet, which costs €12 more and, in my experience, delivers €12 less flavour. It arrives with a dark, handsome crust, cooked to a perfectly pink medium-rare, and crowned with a slow-melting curl of garlic butter. The meat hasn’t been aged, but it doesn’t come up short. It’s beefy, properly salted, and cooked intuitively.
Sides are excellent. The gratin dauphinoise with thin potato slices steeped in cream, sits beside a dish of creamed potato that is pale, smooth, and utterly without shame. The vegetables – carrots, mangetouts, and broccoli – are bright, salted, and crunchy.
Desserts continue the theme of quiet confidence. The sticky toffee pudding is hot, heavy and just on the right side of ruinously rich. A scoop of ice cream melts obligingly over the top, and there’s a dusting of walnut crumble which adds texture. The lemon meringue comes in a glass. A biscuit base, a tangy curd, and soft, torched peaks.
Service, meanwhile, is of the sort that restores one’s faith in the industry. Water appears without fanfare. Plates arrive and disappear quietly. More bread is offered before you realise you have run out. The staff are present without looming, and know precisely when to leave you alone – a rare and precious skill.
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And so, the Dining Room. No tricks, no slogans, no great song and dance. Just a room, a kitchen, and people who appear to care very much about getting it right. You leave well fed and well looked after. If you live nearby, you have no excuse not to go. If you don’t, it’s worth the detour. It promises dinner. And it keeps that promise extremely well.
Dinner for two with a bottle of wine was €156.
The Verdict: Dinner served the way it should be – calm, generous and unfussy.
Food provenance: The Garvin Seafood Company, Wild Irish Game, Joe Kelly Organic vegetables, Sysco chicken, not free-range.
Vegetarian options: Winter vegetable soup, Bluebell Falls goat’s cheese with pickled beetroot, and vegetarian main of the evening.
Wheelchair access: Accessible room with no accessible toilet.
Music: Nina Simone, gospel choruses and old film tunes.
