Food & Drink

Eating Out: Restaurants aren't just about the food...

Sean Harrigan, chef-owner of the Sooty Olive and the Night Stairs restaurants in Derry, at work in his kitchen with daughter Aisling. Lockdown led to a deeper relationship between father and daughter, says Sean
Sean Harrigan, chef-owner of the Sooty Olive and the Night Stairs restaurants in Derry, at work in his kitchen with daughter Aisling. Lockdown led to a deeper relationship between father and daughter, says Sean Sean Harrigan, chef-owner of the Sooty Olive and the Night Stairs restaurants in Derry, at work in his kitchen with daughter Aisling. Lockdown led to a deeper relationship between father and daughter, says Sean

EVERYTHING seems so long ago. I don't know if Joe Wicks was real or if he was a dream, or maybe an imaginary figure grown-ups use to frighten small children.

Time has stopped, and only starts again in order to hurtle us towards another peril. We're either in limbo or lockdown, one or the other.

Not that I have anything to complain about. My family and I, for all sorts of reasons, have remained largely unscathed by the pandemic.

The only one who has any real cause for complaint is my young daughter. Deprived of proper teachers for so long, she had to put up with me trying to educate her on a daily basis, and I only know two things: every FA Cup Final winner (and runner-up and scoreline) between 1961 and 1989; and the names of the 1970 Everton Championship winning team. For a long while, it seemed she would only ever know two things too.

Our habits changed. Before the pandemic, if I remember right, we would go into town most Saturdays. Yes. there was always something to buy, but we'd inevitably end up wandering aimlessly round the shops, and getting coffees and cakes we neither wanted nor needed.

One Saturday when everything was closed, we were out in the garden - me, my wife, and daughter, playing and planting - and one of us suddenly said, This is much nicer, isn't it? And the others agreed. And later we went inside and made our own coffees and baked our own cakes.

Of course, it wasn't much nicer for the poor blighters who own or work in the shops and cafés and who didn't know if they would still have somewhere to own or work when (if...) the dust settled.

My work, if you can call going out to eat 'work', pretty much dried up. Instead of maybe 30 reviews in a year, I only managed about a third of that in 2021, and some of those were old favourites I revisited. Perhaps surprisingly, though, there were some new ventures, long-planned and bravely pursued despite the bleak and uncertain outlook.

Bron, on Derry's Bishop Street, seamlessly shifts between breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner
Bron, on Derry's Bishop Street, seamlessly shifts between breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner Bron, on Derry's Bishop Street, seamlessly shifts between breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner

Bron, for example, on Bishop Street. This light, open, airy, relaxed space, stylishly stark, adds to the sense of difference the Cathedral Quarter provides within Derry's walls and seamlessly shifts between breakfast, brunch, lunch, and dinner, with pastries available all times in between.

And then there's El Tapas Grá. Bustling and noisy, always ready to be raucous, the menu is packed with inventive fusions, small plates so tempting the table becomes as busy and crowded as the restaurant itself.

The most recent arrival is Artis by Phelim O'Hagan, elegant and sophisticated, a jewel in the secret of the Craft Village at night-time.

Artis by Phelim O'Hagan is Derry's newest restaurant - a jewel in the secret of the Craft Village at night-time.
Artis by Phelim O'Hagan is Derry's newest restaurant - a jewel in the secret of the Craft Village at night-time. Artis by Phelim O'Hagan is Derry's newest restaurant - a jewel in the secret of the Craft Village at night-time.

Talking of secrets, there's the Night Stairs. This sidled in, discreetly, not trying to draw attention to itself. Upstairs from the Sooty Olive, but a million miles from Spencer Road, it's the kind of place you wonder why you've never heard of, a speakeasy the Feds don't want to raid, where even Eliot Ness would be tempted to have a couple of cocktails before slipping out the back.

And another one, albeit a new branch of a successful brand: the latest Tank and Skinny's turned up in a Tesco car park outside Limavady. Lovely food, but perhaps not the point. This is an easy place to get to and stay, a place where tired young mums could bring their prams and share war stories of sleepless nights and parental misgivings.

Tank and Skinny's in Limavady - a place that's easy to get to and stay at.
Tank and Skinny's in Limavady - a place that's easy to get to and stay at. Tank and Skinny's in Limavady - a place that's easy to get to and stay at.

So many restaurateurs have had to fight for their lives and livelihoods over the past two years, and, like Sean Harrigan at the Sooty Olive, battle for their staff, too. Yes, they have a passion for their food and a desire to stand next to your own name, like Phelim O'Hagan at Artis, but there's more to it than that. They want to bring pleasure.

The first place we went to when restaurants reopened was the Green Cat, in Eglinton. It wasn't for a review; it was just my wife and I getting lunch. Needless to say, the food was terrific and the service warm and thoughtful.

It struck me then that it wasn't the food I'd missed while all the restaurants were closed. It was the simple, rare opportunity to relax and sit opposite someone you love.

Whether it's a whispered meal for two in Browns or shouting over friends in Mekong, more than anything, restaurants allow you to enjoy other people. I missed that.