FOR its size, the food scene in Belfast is undoubtedly the best in Ireland. Tucked away on the northeastern corner of the island, where one was historically as likely to encounter British Army foot patrols as they were “the salt rebuff of speech” in Philip Larkin’s famous phrasing, the city has managed to successfully reinvent itself as a modern, cosmopolitan hub.
So it should come as no surprise that the city now boasts not one, but two Michelin Star restaurants. My wife and I tried the most recent of these – The Muddlers Club – and were not disappointed by the quality of the fare.
A risk one takes in establishments such as these is to be faced with pomposity the like of which would make even the most seasoned food critic blush. Too often the so-called ‘elevated dining experience’ is punctuated with self-important garb about everything from the sourcing of ingredients to the interior décor, and no sooner has the last morsel of dessert gone sliding down your gullet than you’ve been foisted out the door in preparation for the next booking.
Luckily for us, The Muddlers Club came with no such pretension. Named for the secret society who met on the site some 200 years earlier, Gareth McCaughey’s Waring Street establishment has the feel of a cosy jazz speakeasy or a sophisticated guerrilla diner. The lighting was moody and the knowledgeable staff were friendly and even as one course after another was ferried down with the tenacity of an Irish mother, we never felt rushed.
Our tasting menu began with a delicious ‘snack’ of freshly-baked sourdough bread, Guinness and chocolate laden wheaten and a side of glenilen butter and arbequinq olive oil. The hors d’oeuvres which followed consisted of Seville orange and almond-garnished mushroom, a comte and onion gougere, as well as an unusual combination of crab and apple terrine that set our mouths watering.
The first of the main course was a lightly-seared scallop served with iberico butter sauce, vin jaune, cucumber and kafir lime. Next was the blue fin tuna served with heirloom tomato and sesame, adorned with what can only be described as the most flavoursome pesto I’ve ever had the pleasure to eat.
The scallop courseOur next course consisted of a hefty piece of wild halibut garnished with crunchy chicken skin, mussels, dashi and monksbeard. This might have been my favourite course of the meal were it not been immediately followed by an incredible meat plate comprising of thornhill duck served with potato, morel, wild garlic and asparagus.
When it comes to fine dining, there’s a tendency to think that the courses will be so small as to leave a substantial appetite at the end of the meal; almost as if, after paying full whack for the best in Irish food, there will still be room afterwards for a burger or some chips.
The beautiful duck courseNot so here. By the time our first dessert arrived – involving a healthy dose of rhubarb, yoghurt, ginger and honeycomb – my palate was well and truly sealed. The wine pairing we’d opted for was beginning to work its magic and if it hadn’t have been for the elixir-like digestif we were given, I wouldn’t have had the room to complete the rest of our dining experience.
That said, there ‘s always space for a final sweet. In our case it came in the form of a lusciously bitter blood orange, offset by coffee, caramelised chocolate and a scoop of soft serve which left us bursting at the seams.
I’d recommend The Muddlers Club to anyone. The food was amazing, the staff were attentive, well-informed and friendly, and the atmosphere was surely representative of that modern and changing Belfast. If you’ve got a bit of cash and time to spend in the city, there’s no better place to while away an evening.
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