The squally rain blew us through the door of the restaurant at precisely 8.10pm. “Sorry we’re late,” we said as the staff member offered a warm welcome without a scintilla of chilly reproof.
We didn’t explain why we were ten minutes late, as she would’ve either flatly disbelieved us or promptly barred us on grounds of monumental stupidity.
The plan, you see, had been to rendezvous at Dublin Connolly station, hop on the 6.30pm commuter train to Drogheda, arriving in Skerries in plenty of time for a leisurely aperitif before dinner.
We hadn’t met up for a fortnight, so the chat was flying as Claire and I boarded the train, which was bang on time. The job was oxo. The chat continued as we sped through the rainy night. Then, after almost 30 minutes, it began to slow. “This must be Skerries,” said I as we pulled into a station. We got off.
It was Park West and Cherry Orchard. Feck.
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The station was deserted, but a train back to Connolly was due shortly, which would just allow us to hustle for the 7.30pm to Skerries. We’d be in just in time for dinner. The job was surely oxo. Once aboard, we realised what had happened. Like a right pair of goms we had glanced at the Gaeilge on the side of the train. We concurred that “Droichead Átha” (Drogheda) and “Droichead Nua” (Newbridge) were far too alike for their own good anyway.
The train’s speaker roared into life. “THE NEXT STOP IS GRAND CANAL DOCK. IT IS THE FINAL STOP.”
How was this possible? We stared wild-eyed into a peculiarly Stygian landscape, no lights visible through the window. “I’ve seen this horror flick,” I muttered, “and it doesn’t end well for us.”
“PLEASE TAKE ALL YOUR BELONGINGS,” barked the speaker as the train halted at a stop that was neither Grand Canal Dock nor Connolly. We gathered our scattered wits and fled down onto the street.
The squawk box was clearly banjaxed. We had arrived in Drumcondra, via the Phoenix Park tunnel.
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It was now 7.40pm and lashing rain. We had two options: a last-minute cancel call to Potager, or a taxi.
“Forty-five minutes,” reckoned the first gloomy cabbie. “I’ll have you there in 25 minutes,” said the second, a sunnier soul.
And off we set, Fidelma and Concepta, Dublin’s own Thelma and Louise, semi-aquaplaning towards the northeast corner of the county. Before we knew it, we were peeling off damp coats in Potager, only a bit late.
Drama whets the appetite, so we skipped the offer of a pre-dinner drink in the cosy, Christmassy bar. Happily, there’s a calm, zen feel to the main dining room, with stucco ceilings, thick carpets, linen tablecloths, soft lighting and an impeccable, respectably decibelled soundtrack of 1980s and 1990s music. Surprising, really, considering it formerly housed that most fraught of buildings, a bank.
More recently it was home to the Red Bank restaurant, and in the summer of 2019, it reopened as Potager, owned by Cathal Leonard, former head chef at Chapter One, and his partner Sarah Ryan.
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On offer was a tasting menu, nine courses (including the bread) for €69. It’s shaped by the chef’s commitment to sourcing local produce, and Skerries being serendipitously situated close to an abundance of things from the soil and the sea.
As if the staff sensed our hunger, the dishes began to arrive promptly, and it was close to a case of saving the best till first. Two slabs of bread, one a dense, fermented brown bread speckled with pumpkin seeds, the other a bright yellow savoury puff of pumpkin bread, both served with a swirl of rich butter from Cuinneog dairy, and a cloud of creamy ricotta.
It was swiftly followed by two discs of black pudding, hopping with meat and spices, with a hint of apple and a zing of horseradish, and then by a pair of snack-sized squares of tapioca crackers topped with juicy shreds of crabmeat with dill and lemon.
The pace of the parade slowed slightly, which gave us ample time to lavish praise on the soup course — a dainty slim glass of beer, cheese and thyme soup. It was a sort of alchemic marvel, a warming and perfectly balanced trio of unlikely soup-fellows, each one discernible to the palate.
The next course therefore was a shock to the palate, a somewhat chilly array of beetroot, including a freezing scoop of sorbet.
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Then it was onto the meat; a roundel of foie gras encircled by meaty duck, prettily presented with curls and daubs of radish and quince; a playful take on fish and chips — a square of deliciously smoked halibut, served with tiny onion rings, a chip-shaped Blue Anneliese potato sitting atop a circle of gribiche sauce; a meaty piece of guinea fowl with winter vegetables.
We had to hurry through our last course, a delicious dessert of sweet and sharp — a bowl of clementine, light yoghurt and rich chocolate — as we had to head for the train. Which whisked us straight to Connolly in 22 minutes.
It would’ve been easy to throw in the towel in Drumcondra. But we were very glad we didn’t. These are tough times for restaurants, especially those a bit removed from the beaten track. Although it was a Thursday night, there was only one other table of four diners while we were in Potager. Imagine the frustration a late no-show would have cast on the lovely owners and staff. But we also would have missed an exceptional meal, a zigzag of unexpected dishes and flavours, crafted with meticulous detail, using the best the land and ocean have to offer.
It’s worth going the extra mile, or 30, to keep the fires lit at places like Potager. The train is easy-peasy, and so long as you hop on the correct Droichead, the job will truly be oxo. So, eh, go n-eiri an bothar leat, and all that.
Potager
7 Church Street, Skerries, Co Dublin
What we ate
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Set menu at €69 a head
Brown & fermented bread, Cuinneog butter;
Pumpkin bread, ricotta, pumpkin seeds;
Black pudding, apple & horseradish;
Crab, tapioca, dill, lemon;
Beer, cheese & thyme soup;
Beetroot, walnut, sheep’s yoghurt;
Duck, foie gras, quince, radish;
Smoked halibut, potato, gribiche;
Guinea fowl, parsley root, sprouts;
Clementine, yoghurt, chocolate
To Drink
Bottle of Le Pur Fruit du Causse, Chateau Combel-La-Serre, Cahors €49
Total: €187
Summary
A destination restaurant, where the food takes pride of place. Don’t wait for a special occasion.
