American author Bill Buford begins his brilliant book Heat with a killer quote from chef Mario Batali about the job of a restaurant kitchen. It is to "buy food, fix it up and sell it at a profit".

Put it like that and everything else is window dressing. I'm reminded of the quote when a press release arrives that gushes about the redesigned Citron restaurant in Dublin's Fitzwilliam Hotel.

Something smells like damp as you climb the purple-carpeted stairs up past Kevin Thornton’s photographs: a forest floor carpeted in wild garlic and an animal sucking on its mother’s teat. But instead of continuing up the next two flights of stairs to the Michelin-starred Thornton’s, you walk across a sandblasted glass gangplank to Citron on the mezzanine.

Outside the sun is smiling over the city but we could be anywhere and anytime: night, day, winter, summer. Citron is at the back of the building and a thick wall cocoons us from natural light. So it’s downlighters and a cluster of large pebble lights that cling close to the ceiling (any dangling and they’d be brushing heads) in this low-ceilinged space.

There’s plenty of opportunity to admire the “graphic counterpoint” between the crisp linens and the “new dining chairs with a hint of mid-century retro . . . upholstered in three shades of leather” described in the release because they’re all empty.

Enough about the overselling of a modest hotel dining room. The new chef Philip Mahon is doing a decent job. Although we have to get to the mains to find his mojo. Mahon worked at Marcus Wareing's the Berkeley and was a sous chef in Dylan McGrath's Mint, according to the press release.

My friend Paul has wandered up and been asked whether he wanted fine dining or the restaurant? The air of consolation prize that question holds might not be the best way to sell it. “It’ll be fun dining,” he says.

We order a bottle of the Spanish rosé as a tribute to the distant summeriness outside.The appealingly simple menu of four starters, four mains and three desserts is embossed Father Jack style with the lower case word: food. The wine list says: “drink” on the front.

There’s the “ooh posh” moment of the amuse bouche, delicious pastry cheese balls and potato cylinders with a warm creamy filling topped with a surgically mandolined radish slice.

I love the mackerel in my starter. It’s been torched to a golden-crisped finish. It arrives in lidded glass bowl filled with oak smoke which feels like a tribute act to the man upstairs.

So too do the cucumber balls rolled in fennel ash and the cucumber jelly, two elements that look beautiful but don’t taste great. The three main elements: that gorgeous mackerel, a fiendishly light horseradish mousse and lightly-cooked fennel are great enough to carry the dish without bitter ash and watery green jelly.

Paul’s pear waldorf salad is odd, two long strips of melba thin toast curved to look like marrow bones and stuffed with the lettuce stems. The pear has been curled into scrolls. The menu mentions “celery salad” but there’s no sign of anything celery-like. There’s “waaay too much” on the plate. This isn’t a complaint in most people’s books but it takes a lot of rummaging through the undergrowth to find the creamy blue cheese that evens out the bitterness of the stems.

Mains are so much better. They come on beautiful black plates, great big hearty portions of properly tasty food. There’s a cod fillet topped with a chorizo jam that’s a great rib-kicking spicy garnish. It’s served on excellent sauerkraut with little mounds of finely-diced black olive and red pepper salsa around it. My butternut squash ravioli with sage butter is a lovely marriage of vegetable sweetness, herby butter and silken carbs. A dusting of brioche crumbs are a perfect garnish.

Desserts are lovely too: a strawberry lemon financier that’s like a miniature victoria sponge for one and a salted caramel panna cotta with a malted chocolate brownie and cocoa nibs in a light brittle.

Room service trays are carried past us as the night goes on. Has this newly redesigned space not tempted hotel guests to put their shoes back on and come down for dinner? It’s a shame because, starters aside, the food’s better than the hype.

Dinner for two with a bottle of wine and a coffee came to €134.90.

THE VERDICT: 6.5/10. Better than average hotel dining
Facilities: A lift ride away in the basement
Music: Jazz light
Food provenance: Suppliers rather than producers named
Wheelchair access: Yes
Vegetarian options: Good


SECOND HELPING
Kilkenny got two stars this year and now they get Eveleen Coyle, who's bringing her Fab Food Trails to the city. The guided walking tours, already in Dublin and Cork, will take in craft studios and kitchens and are planned for the first Saturday of each month and occasional Thursdays when the Farmers' Market is in swing. They cost €45 per person and can be booked at fabfoodtrails.ie