RESTAURANTS:THE LATE, and very funny Auberon Waugh, who died far too young, was infamously savaged by the humourless Polly Toynbee in the Guardian before he was cold in his grave. Which, I suppose, is fair enough, as they openly loathed each other, although I don't think Waugh would have done it to her, writes Tom Doorley.
Toynbee disliked, inter alia, Waugh's inability to resist the temptation to cause offence amongst the po-faced or, to put it in words that he would never have used himself, to wind people up.
Thus he once commented that while the majority of families in the UK were reported as owing freezers, this was no guarantee that they wouldn't eat their thawed peas off their knives.
I was thinking of Bron Waugh, whom I met a handful of times and liked a great deal, as I was sitting in a restaurant in the heart of Dublin 4 the other night. Just because our affluent classes drive BMWs, have Poggenpohl kitchens, prefer fee-paying schools to free ones that are just as good, if not better, go skiing and know that Philippe Starck is not a Formula One driver, it doesn't mean that they are not what the late, great journalist, Mickser Hand, used to call "muck savages".
You are what you eat, or so they say. Ask any chef the best way to stay in business and you will be told that it's best to play safe, stick to the old reliables, deliver on quantity and don't rock the boat. In other words, boring food is the best bet.
Well, if I didn't believe them in the past, I do now. Maia was packed on a Tuesday night and its menu is catatonically dull. Chicken Caesar salad. Spicy chicken wings. Penne arrabiata. Fish and chips. Rack of lamb. Monkfish in Parma ham. Crème brûlée. Tiramisu.
Yes, there's more to it than that, but you get the picture. This would be fine, of course, if it was good. A bit lacklustre, but fine. But it wasn't good. I'm happy for the pleasant people who work here that there was a bum on every seat, but what this says about our attitude to food causes me a bit of concern. More like depression, actually.
We shared an antipasto plate, which was perfectly edible, even the industrial grade Emmental or whatever it was. It came with a few slices of very thin, toasted baguette, but of other bread there was none, from start to finish.
Battered haddock, which sounds like a violent crime, with paprika fries and tartare sauce, was not a thing of any joy whatsoever. The fish, within its crisp batter, had a texture similar to cotton wool and the flavour was fishier than haddocky. Very fresh, properly cooked haddock comes in moist flakes. This didn't. And if the kitchen prepares the tartare sauce from scratch, here's a word of advice. Don't. You can get the same, or even better, from a bottle. The fries were adequate and the paprika didn't do anything for them.
Spaghetti carbonara is one of the simplest and tastiest dishes you can make. Maia's version was thoroughly unpleasant. If you toss your hot pasta with beaten egg, fried pancetta and lots of fluffy Parmesan, you get a wonderful combination of textures and flavours; the egg and the cheese cook in the heat of the spaghetti and adhere to it, while the pancetta adds a salty tang and a touch of crunch. Timing and quality of ingredients are critical; don't even think of making it without the best, freshest eggs.
At Maia, it was very different. The spaghetti was naked but for a bit of Parmesan on top. Lurking beneath were small particles of pink bacon (if it was pancetta, they need to change their supplier) and a slick of what looked like uncooked egg. It was truly horrible.
Desserts marked an upswing. There must be a reasonable pastry chef somewhere. Tiramisu had plenty of rich mascarpone and was appropriately unsweet, while the crème brûlée was admirably simple and silky in texture.
With a bottle of white Bordeaux, a large bottle of mineral water and two decent espressos, the bill came to €101.60 before service. I thought it was grim. But can a full restaurant be wrong? Don't get me started.
Australia may seem an odd place in which to serve your time as a pizza maker but Eamon Connors, now installed at South Bar & Grill in Sandyford, daily demonstrates how "Oz" Mod cuisine sits very comfortably with the traditional Italian staple. He worked at Hugo's Bar Pizza in King's Cross, where Sydneysiders maintain you get the best pizza in that very food-conscious city.
Sure, you can have a margherita but what marks out the pizzas at South is an Australian sense of adventure and some curious combinations. Expect the likes of smoked duck, marinated anchovies, cured salmon, new season asparagus and Iberico chorizo.
The tomato sauce, which is used in some but by no means all of the pizzas here, is made from fresh San Marzano plum tomatoes not the usual canned stuff. The olive oil pizza bases are thin and very crispy.
The pizza kitchen is open at South Bar & Grill from noon to 7.30pm daily.
The wine list is a lot better than the grub. Our Château Bauduc (€29.60) was under par and may have spent too long in the fridge. Domaine Doudeau-Leger (€37) is an excellent Sancerre. Pikes Riesling (€34) from the Clare Valley is nicely zingy, and Sa de Baixo (€24) underlines how Portuguese reds offer great value. Domaine Martin Côtes du Rhone (€27) is one of the best around. Planeta La Segreta Rosso (€28.50) is a chunky Sicilian. Dom Rafael Mouchao (€27) comes from a tiny region in Portugal and has great colour and character. Domaine d'Aupilhac (€36) is one of the best wines in its league within Languedoc. Le Mirage de Joncal (€37.60) from Bergerac puts many a claret to shame, and Château Court-les-Muts Saussignac (€29/€6 per glass) is a dessert wine to conjure with.