Great Aunt Clare was a woman who never referred to anyone by name if she could help it. Brought up in a place that had its fair share of squinting windows, she would talk about X, Y and Z, or "a certain party", "you know who", and "that person we were discussing earlier". As children we never knew what on earth she was talking about, but for the purposes of this review I'll take a leaf from her book and call my companions W and N to protect their identity.
The three of us had planned a quiet evening in the refined surroundings of Barberstown Castle in Co Kildare. However, by the time I left in the small hours of the morning W was entwined with a standard lamp singing Lily Marlene and N was becoming best friends with a bottle of Calvados. Both asked not to be mentioned in print if at all possible.
But to go back to the beginning. The brief had been to find somewhere romantic, what with Valentine's Day looming. Barberstown Castle fits the bill in that it is out in the country, and is a genuine castle with parts of it over 400 years old. It has a cosy cellar restaurant and there are luxurious bedrooms upstairs. Add to that, the fact that it was once owned by a woman known locally as Lovey, all in all, it has the right credentials. All that was missing was a suitably amorous companion, so I made do with a couple of girlfriends.
We almost had the restaurant to ourselves and the evening turned into a raucous debate on glass ceilings, not helped by the fact that virtually the only other diners were about 20 insurance brokers - 19 of them men in black-tie - having a high, old time in a private dining room next door. Our parties crossed late at night when W tackled their business development manager (nationwide).
"What kind of an organisation is it that has only men working for it," she asked in a sweet voice that we know is her most dangerous. "God you've had a lot of garlic this evening," was his reply. The evening had started out in a very civilised fashion. Arriving early, I had the drawing room bar to myself for a while and spent a very enjoyable time clearing out my handbag and throwing old bits of paper into the big, open fire that was scenting the room with smoke.
The bar is a lovely, old room with paintings and mirrors on the walls and good comfortable sofas and armchairs all around. I would have happily sat on here, hooves in the ashes. The only quibble was with my mineral water, which was flat.
W arrived soon after and we settled down to read the menus. Although she lives not too far away, she hadn't been to Barberstown for ages. Apparently the bar used to be very popular with locals, whether they were stable lads, pop stars or millionaires, but now it is more rarified. You can only drink if you are having dinner, hence the very calm, some would say dead, atmosphere. One look at the menu and it was obvious that only the wealthiest locals would be dining here with any regularity. Starters range from around £7 to £9 and main courses are from £17.50 to £19.50. The extras are expensive too, like vegetables and salad at £4 each, and sorbet between courses at £3. Our three courses and coffee cost almost £40 a head, not including wine or service charge. You can get out for less by having the set five-course surprise menu at £33.
On paper, the food sounded interesting rather than delicious. Mille feuille of grilled swordfish and aubergine was hard to imagine as was Scallops and Ravioli of Lobster with Pesto. Still, there is a good selection, with seven or eight starters and main courses and we had no trouble choosing. We didn't wait for N, who was joining us for coffee, but made our way a few steps to the lower ground floor which is beautifully restored and feels lighter and warmer than a true basement. As it happened, we weren't seated in the cellar restaurant with all the animal-heads sticking out of the wall - this was given over to the private party and we were in one of the overflow dining rooms. It's worth asking when you book where you are to be seated.
There was one other couple in the dining room but they left shortly afterwards and although another couple arrived, they took very little time over their meal and were gone before we got to our desserts. So it was very quiet, although we could hear lots of talk and laughs from the insurance lads next door.
We had a lovely, large table by a window and it was dressed in fresh-laundered white cloth and napkins. A basket held a generous amount of freshly baked brown bread and rolls and the butter was arranged in little balls piled up in a pyramid.
My starter choice was the crispy prawns on puy lentils which consisted of rather tiny prawns made into long filo parcels and placed on top of an oily arrangement of lentils, sweetcorn and bacon. It was nice, I ate the lot, but the lentil mix was a bit heavy and the prawn parcels were just a little soggy.
W's quail came encased in pastry, and she found it "nice but lukewarm".
There were better things to follow, however. My main course of fillet of beef came sitting on a sensational swede puree, with baked cloves of garlic oozing with flavour. The meat was perfectly tender, cooked exactly as I like it, but it too was warm rather than hot. The plates weren't hot either and all the food cooled rapidly as we talked. Call me asbestos-mouth but I like food that tastes as though it has come straight from the oven or the pan, especially if you are trying to have a conversation over dinner, and not just eating the whole lot down in a couple of minutes flat. W's seared fillets of John Dory came fashionably high atop a disc of mash and looked impressive, but the accompanying panache of vegetables had absolutely no panache. It was a heap of broccoli, mangetout and string beans, cooked fresh and al dente, but absolutely nude. "You'd think at that price they should be glistening with butter or scattered with herbs or something," she said.
N arrived as we were eating and she picked at the tossed salad, but pushed it away after a while saying that the dressing was far too salty.
All this was being washed down by a Californian Chardonnay that was far lighter than any of its Australian counterparts. We ordered a second bottle of it when N appeared, but were told that it wasn't chilled and would have to sit in ice for a while. Fine, but you would think if one had been ordered, they should have chilled another earlier, just in case.
The desserts were very good. N was thrilled with her pear tart which featured a beautifully poached pear sitting on a fluffy mattress of puff pastry. W had a chocolate tart with a pastry case that was just crisp enough and a dense velvety filling. My plate of perfectly ripe farmhouse cheeses was generous enough to share with everyone and there were plenty of water biscuits on the side. The cheese was perfectly ripe.
Tea and coffee came with a dainty arrangement of tiny meringues and squares of Turkish delight.
We were served by a very nice, young woman who left us to our own devices a lot of the time and made no attempt to shunt us out of the dining room when we had finished eating.
Finally, we made our way upstairs to the bar for a digestif. This was where W had a go at the business development manager (nationwide). We parked ourselves in front of yet another smouldering fire and were talked at by a group of the lads before the singing broke out. More I will not say, except that if you want a romantic destination where you can also sit on until the quite late hours of the morning, this is it!
The bill came to a hefty £135, not including service or Calvados. They take most credit cards, including Amex, but not Laser. The Castle Restaurant, Barberstown Castle, Straffan, Co Kildare, tel: 01 628 8157
Orna Mulcahy can be contacted at omulcahy@irish-times.ie
