The Brewer (Claire Dalton), The Blogger (Niamh Sheils) & The Baker (Eunice Power) - Pic: Karen Dempsey

So, The Swashbuachaill is back home again, and contrary to the old saw, the heart is not yet here, still lagging way behind somewhere east of Cork city, loath to leave Dungarvan town. And the spiteful, spitting rain, that sly chill wind without Swashbuachaill Manor only adds to the pain of returning to the real world after yet another glorious spell in the alternative universe that is the Waterford Festival of Food but is often and very appropriately abbreviated to ‘Fungarvan’.

Grattan Square, Dungarvan, 7.15am - and the day begins!

The festival takes place over several days, beginning this year on Thursday April 13th, though the much put-upon Swashbuachaill was afforded a mere 24 hours leave by the Domestic Overlords, arriving at teatime on Saturday evening. But what a 24 hours.

Travelling with yet another highly regarded local ‘culinary Flynn’ — Iain Flynn of Flynn’s Kitchen, supreme champion at the inaugural Blás na hÉireann awards in 2010, The Swashbuachaill’s bloodstream commences a-fizzing at the first tantalising glimpses of Dungarvan Bay as we round the headland.

Lauren Murphy, CEO of Annie's Roasts ensuring her minions set up properly

As we drive through the streets of one of the most pictureseque towns in the country, The Swashbuachaill is suddenly awash with that holiday feeling, the exquisite frisson of first arrival when a vacation stretches out before you like an eternity, the choices appear endless and the choosing is a dithering delight. Though the sun is still shining down on the harbour from a cloudless blue sky, there’s quite a bite from a North-Easterly breeze sweeping down the quays, so a decision is imperative. Naturally The Swashbuachaill opts for a beer.

But we’re in Dungarvan so it’s not just any beer but Dungarvan Brewing Company’s Black Rock Stout, enjoyed in Interlude café with Festival Director Therese McDermott, surely the unluckiest woman in town – while we roll in to enjoy the fruits of the labours of her and her fantastic team, she hardly gets a moment to herself, ensuring the wheels remain on all the wagons.

Simon Mould of Volcano Pizza under pressure in advance of the Fungarvan Big Breakfast

After a hosing down in the corner of the yard and a run through a Lynx shipdip, The Swashbuachaill is ready for his night on the town, specifically, the Waterford County Council Civic Offices for a banquet prepared by the Brewer, The Blogger and The Baker – in other words, three local women, all excelling, nationally and internationally, in the area of food and drink: Claire Dalton, of Dungarvan Brewing Company; Niamh Sheils, London-based and the Observer Food Monthly’s blogger of the year; and culinary force of nature, chef Eunice Power.

Brock of Badger and Dodo preparing The Swashbuachaill's first transfusion of the day

Clare Gan Gluten 'laying the table'

There’s a jazz band blowing on the staircase above and the nightlights sparkle up and around the high, open atrium, the dining area marked out by wonderful wood panels — big, black rectangles, a random circular pattern of cuts allowing light to filter through —   created especially for the night by a local artist, also a waiter for the evening. The Swashbuachaill must confess to having forgotten the aforementioned artist’s name (Eamon?) but as Mrs Swashbuachaill will confirm, this brainfreeze is not out of the ordinary.

Noreen Conroy (Woodside Farm) and Annie Murphy (Annie's Roasts) and a laggardly late-rising sun

Shoehorned onto the end of a most friendly and accommodating table, The Swashbuachaill is soon causing great consternation amongst other diners as he gets down on his knees to propose to a large portion of Bacon Jam, a little concoction Blogger Niamh has been working on and possessing all the qualities The Swashbuachaill could desire in his dream life partner – sweet, spicy, savoury and chockful of bacon-y goodness. Eventually the remainder of the BJ is wrestled away from the wailing Swashbuachaill who only recovers his legendary decorum following the administration of some Wild Garlic Soup, creamy, comforting and speckled with crunchy toasted almond flakes.

However, a terrine of duck confit with pistachio threatens to upset the apple cart, once more, especially when The Swashbuachaill enjoys a mouthful in tandem with the accompanying brioche and surrounding punters soon learn to eat from a plate on their laps, under the table and far from The Swashbuachaill’s wild and increasingly straying eye.

Local-boy-made-good, Iain Flynn, setting up the alternative Dungarvan-Cappoquin Community Centre

Even The Swashbuachaill is taken aback when his beef fillet arrives at the table. The Swashbuachaill has seen whole cows carrying less ‘timber’ but  is reassured by native Dungarvanites that these are ‘country’ portions. The Swashbuachaill nods along sagely but secretly believes them to be ‘continent’ proportions or at the very least the size of one of your smaller continents. Luckily, The Swashbuachaill has no fear of a big fella and rejoins the battle with gusto.

It rather dissolves after that into a blur of rhubarb fool and rosewater meringue before The Swashbuachaill has to be hauled off the cheese table (yes, a cheese ‘table’, none of your miserly ‘boards’ for this crew) and be physically restrained, having propositioned two wheels of Knocklara and one of Anna Leveque’s goat’s cheese logs in a foolhardy attempt to bring them back to his room for a night on the crackers. The quick-thinking Brewer, Claire Dalton, averts a potentially scandalous scene by granting The Swashbuachaill a private audience with the Dungarvan Brewing Company team and after that your chastened scribe skips off delightedly into the night.  All in all, one of the more splendid evenings The Swashbuachaill has put down in many a moon.

Some of the finest eggs laid on the Oul' Sod - from Glenmore Organics

After such nocturnal shenanigans, it is yet another tribute to The Swashbuachaill’s enormous stamina that he is up in or around the seven of the a.m. the following day for the traditional (ie this is the second year we’ve done it – ergo, tradition) marketeers’ breakfast: finest-pork-in-the-country Woodside Farm sausages and obscenely large, delicious double-yoker Glenmore Organics eggs, cooked on a pan in Simon Mould’s Volcano pizza oven and served up in a blah from Barron’s bakers.

Ostensibly, the Volcano Pizza Oven but, in reality, one of the essential components in the Fungarvan Big Breakfast

With the sky a crystalline azure blue, nary a cloud in sight and a healthy nip still in the air, you have all the ingredients for one of the finest breakfasts man, woman or child could ever want for and with the last swallow, The Swashbuachaill is already looking forward to next year’s breakfast. A coffee from Badger and Dodo and he rolls up his sleeves, ready for all comers.

Simon divvying up the sausies

And so begins market day, glorious weather, huge crowds and a buzz that could power the entire country. The Swashbuachaill does his stint behind the stall of Clare O’Brien’s wonderful Gan Gluten but strays far too regularly, in search of new and glorious foodstuffs. What’s more he finds them with Killian and Kate of newbies Kereen Farm, producers of free range pork, purveying some fine sausages, in particular, a lovely spicy ‘Diabhail’ (Devil, for those readers who don’t embrace An Teanga as fervently as  The Swashbuachaill, great patriot an’ all as he is) and some excellent chocolates and truffles from The Truffle Fairy.

Martin Conroy (Woodside Farm) still smiling after the stellar performance of his pork at the Tannery the night before

With the sun long over the yardarm, Mrs Swashbuachaill rumbles into town in the wagon with a number of The Swashbuachaill’s progeny in tow, the better to soften his heart that she might administer the tranquiliser, lump him into the boot and drive him back home for another year. Which she duly does. And The Swashbuachaill is now back home, pining in the extreme as he ticks the days off the calendar until next year’s festival in ‘Fungarvan’.

A further few pics for your delectation

8.15am and the Square is already coming to life

Barron's - purveyors of fine bread, especially the Blah, another essential component of the Big Breakfast

Ken Murphy of Annie's Roasts, preparing CEO Lauren for the day ahead

Killian and Kate Quealy of Kereen Farm on their market debut

Truffle Fairy chocs, including the magnificent Tequila, Salt & Lemon Truffle

The Swashbuachaill enjoyed a splendid burger from Louise Clark's The Naked Lunch sandwiched between one of the fine local stars, Dungarvan-based Rosie's Broadway Bagels

David and Simon doing the 'other job' - cooking pizzas

The whole hog - Wild Side Catering roasting a wild boar in the square

Swashbuachaill telepathy in action - #thinks: 'purchase, damn your hides, purchase!'

The Square at midday

Audrey and Ben Flynn: local-boy-made-good Iain Flynn skives off leaving sister and mother to do the donkey work

Clare Gan Gluten getting down to a spot of hardcore retailing

Busman's holiday for Marketeer Marc 'Golden Bean' Kingston (right), and Hierro, up to some offhand tourism

Daughter Swashbuachaill only has eyes for The Swashbuachaill - or is it the other way round?

There is a giddiness abroad in The Swashbuachaill household, a nervous tension the like of which only prevails before the rare Christmas when I’ve been, by and large, a good and very deserving boy throughout much of the preceding year. (Or at the very least, intended to be.)

But we’re a long way off Christmas – The Swashbuachaill’s anticipatory fervour comes on foot of his eagerly awaited first delivery of wine from Red Red Wine, an Irish company owned by Tom and Elena O’Loughlin who are based in the South of France and sell online directly to private customers at wholesale prices, averaging about five deliveries nationwide per annum.

Now, when The Swashbuachaill first showed signs of developing what has turned into a most pronounced lip for the vino, choice on The Oul’ Sod was extremely limited and almost as hard to procure. Things have improved a thousand-fold, even down to doorstep delivery but what has The Swashbuachaill all of a lather is Red Red Wine’s ability to source wines unavailable in Ireland.

In particular, wines from the prestigious AOCs of the Haut Languedoc, the very same vinos exclusively used to fuel The Swashbuachaill’s nuptials some years back without remotely breaking the bank (in other words, The Swashbuachaill’s father-in-law).

It may seem silly to say of the world’s largest wine-producing region but Languedoc-Roussillon can still be relatively uncharted territory for many wine drinkers around the world, certainly in comparison to other more renowned regions in France.

I promise you, once you get to sample a few of the finer wines from the region, you’ll keep returning. And who knows, some day, like Tom and Elena, you might even get to set up shop there. I’ll be back with some tasting notes on those wines in a few weeks.  Meanwhile, see below for a sneak peek at what life is like for Elena, Tom and family and further info on ordering. Chin-Chin!

Elena O'Loughlin 'dans les vignes' (envious sigh)

For those wishing to know a little bit more about the wine and how deeply discomfiting it is to be forced to live in the sunny South of France, here’s Elena talking about …

… how they wound up in France

Tom is from Rathangan, Co. Kildare and I am from Slane, Co. Meath. Not long after we got married, we bought a wreck of a house in the St Chinian AOC (near Beziers) in 1999. We went out in the winter months to turn it into a little holiday house in the sun. Then our eldest started school and it looked like the work would never be finished, so in 2006, we decided to go for a year. We thought it was an ideal opportunity to put our daughter (age 5) into a French school and see how she got on with the language. We ended up staying here and now our 3 kids are all bilingual.

… how the interest in wine began

Tom’s family are dairy farmers who were also involved in tillage so farming is in his DNA. He got very interested in the local vineyards and production methods etc. Eventually about 2 years ago, we found a vineyard we were interested in buying. It was in the Terasses du Larzac, near Clermont l’Herault and alot closer to Montpellier. We started Red Red Wine to create a direct market to people in Ireland for this particular area, so that when we started producing our own, we’d have some clients.

The wine has proved really popular but unfortunately the vineyard fell through. It had been inherited by 3 elderly sisters but when it came down to it, they couldn’t all agree to sell it. Instead, we moved to Montpellier at Halloween, but are continuing to grow and expand the wine business. This year, we hope to add some Blanquette de Limoux, la premiere boule du monde, developed in Limoux by the monks in 1531. Dom Perignon came to investigate the discovery many years later. We also plan to add some more white wines, possibly Picpoul.

… the impossible hardships they have to contend with on a daily basis

Meanwhile, Montpellier is a glamorous, vibrant, rapidly growing student city with excellent transport, sports facilities and universities and of course, great weather. Montpellier has a Top 14 rugby team (Leinster were over here in November for a draw match in Heineken Cup) and an Irish scene based around Fitzpatrick’s pub in the historic city centre. The kids (now 11, 9 and 7) love it too…

… the wine and how to order it

I suppose that the main thing is that this wine wins lots of awards and doesn’t usually leave France. It is only available in Ireland through us. We sell to private individuals at wholesale prices.

Minimum order is 12 bottles which is a legal requirement of our wholesale license, but if somebody wants to organise a group order of family, friends, colleagues to one address, that works fine too, so long as the total order is 12 bottles or more.

Our next Free Delivery dates are 11 – 17 April. We do 4/5 Free Delivery trips a year, which is when most people buy the wine, but there is also a courier service available throughout the year.

People can order by contacting us through our website www.redredwine.ie or email redredwine.ie@google.com

These are just some of the most recent awards:

Best Seller: Closade St Jullien 2009 (Rouge) (Case x 6) @ € 65

Gold Medal from prestigious Guide Gilbert et Gaillard 2013.

Best Value: St Jacques Rouge 2009 ((Case x 6) @ € 53

Silver Medal Concours Macon, 2010

We also have St Jacques Rosé and St Jacques Blanc. All 3 regularly win awards. The 2010 and 2008 rosé are mentioned in Guide Hachette.

Barrel Aged: Jaques Arnal 2009 (Case x 6) @ € 77

Silver Medal, Concours Macon, 2010, Commended, Decanter 2010, Silver Medal, Concours Generale Agricole, 2011

Here’s a link to my recent Irish Examiner review of a tremendous – and tremendously important – book, Extra Virginity: The Scandalous and Sublime World of Olive Oil by Thomas Mueller (Atlantic Books)

Though I ate a shedload of Mediterranean food in London during the 80s, olive oil remained a rather nebulous concept to me (and indeed to most Londoners at the time), I didn’t especially differentiate between oils – it simply existed. But at the beginning of the nineties, I worked for a spell with the Real Olive Company, doing markets and prep back in the warehouse. Thus began my education, learning about multiple varieties of olives and oils. Or so I thought. In reality my education began with this book. Several years ago, I read the original New Yorker article, subsequently expanded to produce this book, and found it, I must admit, profoundly depressing, focussing almost entirely as it did on the huge fraud in the olive oil industry.

Thankfully, Mueller expands enormously from that particular emphasis in the book so there is maybe a glimmer of hope for the future of a foodstuff which is utterly precious to me. But I have been very, very wary of where and how I purchase my oil ever since. The oil in the photo above is bought from a friend, Lenny O’Donovan, who sells at markets in Mahon Point and Temple Bar. It comes from the village, north of Barcelona, where his wife’s parents are from and is very, very good. But more importantly, I trust its provenance. I’m afraid its no longer possible to say the same about much of the olive oil for sale around the world today.

http://www.irishexaminer.com/opinion/books/virgin-on-the-ridiculous-why-olive-oil-will-be-hard-pressed-to-survive-187400.html

http://www.bestofbridgestone.com/profiles/joe-mcnamee

Honestly, The Swashbuachaill is not on a retainer from The Electric; it was sheer coincidence that I was asked to do these reviews within days of each other. Hardly surprising, when you think about it, as The Electric is getting noticed in a lot of places. Nominated for the Restaurant Association of Ireland awards in 2011 as best casual dining in its first year of opening gives you an idea of the standards they are aiming to reach.

http://www.bestofbridgestone.com/blog/joe-mcnamee-electric-cork

http://www.examiner.ie/weekend/foodandwine/switch-on-the-senses-184879.html

http://www.examiner.ie/weekend/foodandwine/added-value-183256.html

Good food or nothing more than calories?

Haven’t had a chance yet to watch the Frontline programme on the issue on RTÉ last night but hope to see it this evening. Meanwhile, here are some more thoughts on the Calories on Menus issue.

Since this debate about putting calories on menus began, an awful lot of opinion has been flying around the ether. The bulk of it has been most emphatically against the measure being introduced but there has also been opinion from those questioning opposition to the measure. One question in particular was sent directly to me by a person whose expert opinion I rate very highly indeed.

Q. What responsibility should restaurants/cafes/fast food outlets take for informing customers about their food re: calories? Surely customers have a right to know?

I would begin by answering with a question: what responsibility should we, the customers, take for informing ourselves about our food? Other than the very reasonable assumption that the restaurant has taken appropriate steps to ensure I am not going to be poisoned, I disagree with the idea of loading responsibility for my health choices onto any type of outlet retailing cooked food.

Very simply, I believe if you go into a fast food outlet, you are getting shit food, plain and simple. But if you have an appetite for shit food, go ahead, knock yourself out. Certain items on the menu may have less calories than others but it is all still shit food with other health consequences besides the amount of calories contained.

You are, of course, perfectly entitled to ask how many calories are in a dish in any type of restaurant. But other than in those establishments who have voluntarily undertaken, as a unique selling point, to list calories, I doubt very much if even a chef in a Michelin-starred restaurant will be able to give you a precise answer short of sending it off to the lab. However, while you are perfectly entitled to ask, I disagree profoundly that it is your god-given right to expect the exact answer.

The restaurant model has operated for centuries without such information, epidemic obesity is a first-world problem, probably no more than 20 years in existence in Ireland, 50 years elsewhere, at most. (Does anyone remember commenting on how the newly-arrived Eastern European immigrants were so ‘thin’? We Irish who emigrated to London and elswhere in the 80s usually sported a similar trim demeanour — nothing like a surplus of cash to put on a few pounds.)

A good restaurant would honestly confess their ignorance of the precise figure but help you choose an option to suit your dietary requirements, breaking down the ingredients, detailing cooking methods etc. If you were even halfway reasonably informed, you mightn’t need to ask anything at all, just simply go ahead and order.

It’s not restaurants that cause obesity, it’s the lifestyle choices people make.

What makes people get fat, sometimes even obese for reasons other than medical?

In no particular order, off the top of my head and with some repetition and tautology:

Greed, overeating; insomnia; addictive personalities, compulsive eating; comfort eating to cope with fear, sadness, insecurities, anger, heartbreak, loss; laziness, inactivity; stress, anxiety, loneliness, boredom, feelings of inadequacy, indiscipline, lack of willpower, bad habits learned in childhood.

A good dietician or ED Therapist could probably tidy up that list in a matter of minutes but I can’t imagine either would have much to quibble with as it is.

What doesn’t make people fat or even obese?

A profound ignorance about the calorific content of each item they choose to stuff between their lips. (Dang! If only I’d known those treble-cheese-whack-me-senseless-dog-burgers contained 4000 calories in each bite, I coulda switched to milkshakes and hot deep-fried apple pie – you got your dairy and fruit going on right there.)

Minister James O’Reilly is a GP and I’m sure as a result of his training has a very sound knowledge of what constitutes a high or low calorie foodstuff yet when he gives himself his daily checkup in the mirror, I’d warrant he’d advise himself to lose a few pounds.

Former Health Minister Mary Harney, also an intelligent, capable woman, no doubt very well informed of the differences between high and low calorie foodstuffs, is substantially overweight.

And before I’m deafened by howls of outrage, let me turn the focus on myself and let’s not sugarcoat it other than with a light dusting of spiced vanilla sugar. I am fat. About three stone overweight and counting. It doesn’t make me happy. It makes me self-concious, embarrassed. I joke about it to hide the way I really feel. I like stylish clothes but you wouldn’t know to look at me as I now dress to hide, choosing from the vastly decreased range available to me.

Yet I know a lot about food. In fact, if you put an array of foodstuffs in front of me and asked me to rank them in order of calorific content, from highest to lowest, I suspect I’d do a damn fine job of it. (As an aside, if you asked me to rank them in order of healthiest to least healthiest, the ranking could be substantially different.)

Why am I fat? Well, an aging body, a fraction of the exercise I used to get before getting back into the childrearing game, an inordinate love of all things culinary? And you might also throw in some dysfunctional attitudes to eating related to the above emotional triggers while you’re at it. But one thing is absolutely, stone-cold certain – I am not fat because nobody ever told me about those dang calories.

I was about to write that nobody, bar those at the very lowest tier of our society who have been abandoned, educationally and otherwise, enters a fast food restaurant ingnorant of the health risks of eating there — and as is blindingly obvious, the problems of excessive weight and obesity are not remotely restricted to this section of society.

But I’m afraid I cannot write such a statement because millions around the world enter these establishments every day utterly oblivious to the dangers of the crap they are about to eat. And who are these morons? Why, children, bombarded with hours of advertising before they can even walk who in turn pester parents to bring them. This is where the taste is established for junk food introducing a potentially lifelong bad eating habit. Listing calories means little to those who have yet to learn to read.

I have one older son, now 22, and throughout his childhood, I absolutely refused to buy him any of the crap from McDonalds, Burger King et al. When he asked why, I told him that it was crap and it was bad for him, simple as that. If someone else temporarily entrusted with his care took him there, that was up to them; I never interfered, I simply refused to allow it happen on my watch. Occasionally, I would cave in and buy a McToy but would still refuse to buy him anything to eat. Now 22, he has very naturally run through a couple of years of making his own food decisions which have included the very worst of junk food – that’s probably a rite of passage. But for the most part, his diet now is excellent and, furthermore, he cooks most of it himself. Very well, I might add.

I have no issue whatsoever with the Dept of Health tackling the health problems of obesity with well-thought out preventative strategies – banning all fast food advertising targetted at children would be an excellent start. And, unlike this poorly thought out strategy which to my mind has no real benefits for anyone other than the FSAI (Why do I keep picturing glaziers sneaking around after dark smashing windows?), banning fastfood advertising to children (for a start) would affect no one except the fast food companies and the TV stations. And, after all, the latter appear to have survived the banning of advertising of cigarettes and alcoholic spirits.

This rather obscure image is currently heading the No to counting calories facebook page, grabbed at the last minute. But it is relevant: a cap from a bottle of exquisite Glenillen milk. Older readers will instantly recognise the cream on the underside of the cap, recalling an era before homogenisation, you know, when milk actually tasted good.

When I recently learned of plans to bring in legislation requiring restaurants to itemise the calories in each dish on their menus, my initial reaction, rightly or wrongly, was one of absolute disgust at what I perceived to be idiocy in the extreme. Most alarmingly, it seemed this process was being shepherded through with almost zero public debate. I began to tweet about it but Twitter leaves little room for nuance in any debate so I established a facebook page, hoping it would become a forum for debate and a place in which others could add links to other resources of information.

The reaction has proven to me that there are an awful lot of people out there who care about the issue – and from both sides of the divide. Furthermore, some of my initial thoughts on the subject have provoked further questions, many aimed directly at me to which I would like to respond. I have no wish to helm any ‘movement’; there are plenty of people in this country infinitely more qualified than I to fulfill such a role. I simply wanted to see interested parties in this country (which, ideally, would be every single citizen of the island who eats food) become aware of what was transpiring and then being allowed to contribute their tuppence worth. The issue is simply too important to be allowed pass into law without some very rigorous examination. This is the first step of a more in-depth attempt at explaining my position.

Transparency

“This train is leaving the station,” Dr Reilly said, adding, “if industry doesn’t comply, we will legislate”. Irish Times, Feb 2nd, 2012

On February 2nd, Minister Reilly announced a public consultation on how best to put calorie information on menus. A ‘public consultation’ is a process whereby the views are sought from the public on matters affecting them to be then  taken into consideration when making a decision or drafting policy or legislation. But in this case the ‘consultation’ element is token to say the least, lasting a mere 27 days and with many unanswered questions about its integrity. I live in a world of food, sometimes professionally, always personally, and yet I never heard of this ‘consultation’ through any formal channels. Any restaurauteurs I have been in touch with learned of this solely through the grapevine or through their local branch of the Restaurants Association of Ireland. Surprising, when you consider how much effort the Food Safety Authority of Ireland (FSAI) normally puts into publicising what it is up to.

Then there is the consultation itself, in the form of surveys aimed at the general public and the catering industry, all conducted by the FSAI. The surveys are not asking the Irish citizen whether or not it is a good idea to list calories on menus but what form should it take ie this is a fait accompli, decided already by those who purportedly ‘know best’. Some of the questions are rather cynically skewed to provide the answers that are being sought to bolster a predetermined result. Try this one for size:

How would you like to see the calorie information displayed on foods that are meant for sharing?

Option one: The calories for the full pizza are shown along with the number of portions it contains. For example a 13.5″ pizza has 2690 calories and contains 4 portions

Option two: The amount of calories in a portion is shown along with the number of portions in a pizza. For example one portion of pizza contains 672 calories and there are 4 portions in a full pizza

As a citizen of this country who will be affected by this legislation, where is the option, the box for me to tick for me to say neither of the above, I don’t support the idea for one single moment.

Maybe someone can prove to me the wrongheadness of my thinking which I would then happily own up to. But at the very least there should be a loud and very open public debate on the issue, involving informed opinion from all sides with the public allowed their democratic right to some part in the process of deciding ‘what is best for them’. Personally speaking, I have very little faith in the idea of leaving it solely to the Department of Health and the FSAI to provide the expertise to justify this policy. At the very least, we should be allowed to access the inner workings of this consultation process.

For example, was there any engagement with Eating Disorder (ED) experts who could point out how negatively such a policy would impact on people with ED. Or could somebody point out to the scientists of the FSAI, now apparently in the business of offering nutritional advice to professional cooks, via the online documentation, that ‘low-fat’ alternatives often end up with more calories than the normal fat option due to the additives, stabilisers etc introduced to compensate for the removal of fat.

There is a small aside, buried within the the FSAI Draft Technical Guide for Food Businesses

The FSAI is exploring possible ways to help food businesses put calories on menus.

All of the possibilities listed below are subject to the FSAI securing special funding to help food businesses put calories on their menus.

Are the FSAI rushing through with this to meet a European structural funding deadline? Or has funding already been allocated providing certain conditions are met eg a ‘public consultation’? Is it a case of more focus being put on securing funding than on consideration of the policy for which funding will be used? More haste, less speed and a very full and open public consultation seems the logical way to approach such drastic policy legislation.

In President Michael D Higgin’s just-published book, Renewing the Republic, he writes of an administrative (State) failure to communicate the truth to all: “Many do not have equal access to the story; rather it is for those who work in the sector.”

Preventing debate, hindering and obfuscating on the process of ‘consultation’, the better to railroad this through as quickly as possible, counts as another insult to the democratic rights of the Irish public and very pronounced black eyes for the Minister, his dept and the FSAI, part of an administration that made great play in the runup to the general election of the dawning of a new age of State transparency.

Why not read the documentation on the FSAI site and contribute by filling in the surveys. I’m not sure if they really care about your opinion but they might care about an awful lot of opinions.

In the words of the great carrot-muncher, Bugs Bunny, ‘that’s all for now, folks!’

Greene’s is now of an age, nearly 20, which might qualify it for institution status in Cork but partly due to its location, a little off the main drag, and partly due to varying fortunes in the kitchen over the years, it seems to have lost some of its lustre. But the current chef, Fred Desormeaux is cooking some very, very fine food making it well worth a reappraisal.

http://www.examiner.ie/news/a-taste-of-france-181589.html

Kevin Aherne, Chef/Proprietor, Sage Restaurant, Midleton

My review of Sage Restaurant in Midleton was published in yesterday’s Irish Examiner but I can always find a few more words to add to anything I have published, being a great man altogether for the guff. When it comes to Sage, I’d have no trouble at all filling a newspaper – I am a big fan of the restaurant.

It would have been very easy for Chef/Proprietor Kevin Aherne to play the provenance card and attempt to ride the coat tails of some very illustrious East Cork neighbours, in particular, Ballymaloe and the Midleton Farmer’s Market. Instead, Kevin quietly set about his business building up the restaurant over the last three or four years very much at his own pace. The room itself is pleasant, comfortable, tastefully decorated but otherwise unremarkable – what shines in Sage is the food, service and ambience.

Woodside Farm pork terrine

What I love most about Kevin’s cooking is his very clear vision of how he wants a dish to turn out and his singleminded focus on the fundamentals. He believes in selecting the most excellent produce available, ideally local, and cooking it perfectly before considering the addition of bells and whistles, sturm und drang. (Actually, amend that – Kevin doesn’t do fripperies, all additions are essential to the finished dish.)

Far too many ‘proper chefs’ in Ireland are overly concerned with exotic ingredients du jour – whatever constitutes the latest ‘sundried tomato’ – and the ‘architecture’ of their presentation at the expense of the actual food. Not long ago, I ate a venison dish in a ‘mid-table’, reasonably high profile restaurant (and hasn’t venison become a very mainstream dish?). It was served up on a Rorschach blot of drops, daubs and dashes of sauce on foot of a menu description a mile long, yet was so brutally overcooked, it required a steak knife. Properly cooked venison, seared on a high heat, meltingly rare on the inside, should offer the merest resistance before surrendering utterly to the tooth – Bambi don’t do gristle.

It is shocking how many ‘chefs’ neglect their primary responsibility which is ensuring the main component of a dish is properly cooked but  Kevin does this to perfection, whether it is Noreen and Martin Conroy’s superb Woodside Farm Free Range Pork, Mike Kenneally’s distinctively flavoured aged Angus beef or Tom Clancy’s stunning Ballycotton Free Range Poultry. He also accords each vegetable footsoldier the same respect and attention (the simple carrot may well be a discreet Aherne signature, a mini-meal in itself, especially during summer when baby carrots are sinfully roasted in butter.) Only then does elaboration come into play, be it presentation or additional ingredients or accompaniments. Successfully executing the latter is the difference between a ‘good cook’ and a ‘great chef’ but there isn’t a single great chef in the world who is not, first and foremost, a good cook.

Kenneally's beef and Woodside Farm pork, cooked slow 'n' sumptuous

Kevin, himself, keeps presentation to a minimum, attractive yet completely subservient to the dish itself. However, his additions are  judiciously chosen and executed with the sublime confidence of a natural. He can be audacious, daring even in his choice of ingredients and accompaniments but never at the expense of the overall dish. To many (invariably slimmer than me!), who don’t spend most waking hours in contemplation of the nosebag, Kevin’s food is hugely enjoyable but never alarming — if he is going to take anyone out of their comfort zone, it is with a gently reassuring hand. But all the time, he is introducing interesting new twists to traditional staples, the traditional food of his hinterland.

Réidín, Kevin's partner and Sage 'Maitre D''

Kevin also takes the other half of his job title, Proprietor, very seriously and will regularly abandon the kitchen for a night on the floor to ensure every single part of the restaurant ‘machine’ is running smoothly. To be honest, it’s hardly necessary, as his partner, Réidín, does an excellent job running front of house, her easy, unobtrusive manner masking a stickler’s attention to detail. On my last visit she was the essence of patience, knowledge and understanding as I put Hamlets agonisings in the ha’penny place, dithering over the wine list. I put my faith in her choice – not easy for a control freak! – and was amply rewarded.

Which brings me nicely to my final gush – the wine list (from Conor O’Brien of James Nicholson Wine Merchants and Smith & Whelan, a small importer of Spanish wines, based in nearby Ballycotton. It is small, perhaps 30 wines at most and, as I recall, other than a single Burgundy and a single Bordeaux, ever after an esoteric and exciting trip off the beaten path, beautifully assembled and reasonably priced. You just know that each and every wine was carefully chosen with an eye to its place in the overall grand scheme of things (ie its relation to the food), not merely selected to plug some perceived geographical gap in the list.

As I say, I’m rather fond of Sage.

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