“All the cool kids hang out in the Liberties now, Mum”, is what I told her when she asked me what a chicken’s tooth was and why we were going to eat dinner in a place called Blackpitts.
Despite her lack of Dublin 8 trivia knowledge, she’s not too out of the loop as she’s a self-proclaimed foodie and is aware of The Fumbally’s existence. My granddad was recruited, and on a windy September evening we escaped the pervasive Guinness hops and passed through the venue’s inviting doors.
Like most hipster enclaves, Hen’s Teeth looks like three different businesses in one, and it absolutely is. Beginning as an open-plan shop stocked with artwork, mugs and candles, a seamless segue into the cafe reveals a retro “listening room” of rugs and vinyl that lies beyond.
The versatile space looks like a gallery or a music venue, except for the fact that it’s hard to miss the open kitchen. The centrepiece of the room, the open kitchen, is surrounded by multicoloured walls of varying opacity, with bright panels enclosing the three-man team inside. Watching them cook, it was like observing a live performance, and it feels wrong not clapping when the food arrives.
I was happy with my familial company for a couple of reasons, and one of them was absolutely because they would be paying. It’s not an indictment of Hen’s Teeth in particular – eating out in Dublin has become a sport for the rich and an anomaly for the student. Also, more company means more food, and that’s never a bad thing.
Now multi-award winning, the relative newcomer to the restaurant and cafe scene has placed in both the Irish Times and the Sunday Times top 100 places to eat in the country and has received scores of positive reviews. Executive chef Killian Walsh is in charge of the kitchen and, with the help of his team, serves up a compelling variety of accessible and innovative recipes.
The menu is contemporary, short and punchy, which fits the vibe – cool people don’t have time to read long lists. Options are divided into “smalls” and “biggies”, with eccentric items including a gentrified Scotch egg (nduja coated, of course).
We started with green olives, smoky almonds and tempura mushrooms to entertain ourselves as we browsed the mains. I settled for a pork and hummus flatbread, while my companions opted for a less copious feed. A full-bodied red wine was brought to the table, and the prompt service meant that we weren’t left waiting for our meal.
Upon its arrival, I found my meat and its garnishes to be good, but the accompanying flatbread had all the texture of a Tesco naan. Though it was definitely edible, it has since been shrewdly replaced by pressed pork with boudin noir and sauerkraut, which sounds much more exciting.
My grandad, ever the Francophile, ordered a liver parfait on brioche, which was happily described as “first-class”. Mum’s ras el hanout cauliflower dish was packed with flavour from the North African spice, but for the fee of €16, one would expect more than a few stalks of the vegetable. However, served alongside a portion of crispy fried potatoes, there were no complaints.
The experience was enhanced by the cosy atmosphere and the ambient music, a blend of modern funk and disco. We all left feeling satisfied by our choices and enamoured by the warm yet industrial decor and the young, friendly staff.
Having spent my second year of college living in the Liberties, I’ve come to love the area for its eclectic culture. A real melting pot of people sharing their craft with their community, it is now home to a number of important Dublin landmarks without having lost too much authenticity along the way.
Overall, Hen’s Teeth lives up to the hype. It has all the makings of a valuable cultural space, the likes of which Dublin so desperately needs.
To see for yourself, check out their many ventures at hensteethstore.com.
