Why there is no such thing as too much truffle on a rainy day out on your own

THE first real excitement in my vegetable plot this spring – apart from outwitting the mice by presprouting the peas – has been the flowering of the broad beans. They were sown at the start of November and are now filling the air with fabulous perfume from their black and white blossoms.

The first actual beans will be a glorious treat by the end of the month but I got a little reminder of what lies in store when I ate – in splendid isolation – in Crudo last week. Although it still says Dunne & Crescenzi over the door, this is actually Crudo, the creation of Eileen Dunne’s two sons, Ghinlon Wang and Seán Crescenzi. And it’s a creation that pushes a lot of buttons for me.

It had been a long and stubbornly rainy day and I had forgotten to ask anyone to join me; so I decided to indulge my love of solitary dining, being careful to avoid its main pitfall: lack of pacing. When you’re on your own it’s too easy to horse into the dishes. Discipline, and an understanding kitchen is what you need.

Understanding is big at Crudo, and it started with the divination that what I really needed – as a kind of restorative – was a Campari topped up with Prosecco. Before I even knew it myself.

My admiration for people who can make suppli knows no bounds. When I try to mould cold risotto around a small piece of cheese, then encase it all in egg and breadcrumbs, the results are, to say the least, variable. Here the suppli (which are the smaller, Roman version of the Sicilian arancini) were enriched with confit duck, and served with toasted, crumbled hazelnut and a pleasingly sharp apple purée. I could have been sitting at a bar in the Eternal City. And a very good bar at that.

Chicken and truffle polpette came next, with wild mushrooms. I react to truffles like an old war horse getting a whiff of cordite, so this was a no-brainer.

These were proper Italian meatballs – big, and their meatiness unmediated by breadcrumbs. Intensely savoury, creamy, simple and delicious. I was tempted to lick the plate.

Then a suitable pause before the main act, loin of veal (‘cooked very pink,’ as the waiter pointed out. Twice. They may have had some resistance to correctly cooked loin of veal).

And indeed it was pink, as distinct from raw in the centre; pink enough for each slice to retain the perfect juiciness to react delightfully with a seasoning of lemon, salt and, I think, thyme. Anyone who says that milk-fed veal has no flavour needs to try it the way head chef Brendan Ward chooses it and cooks it.

But the pleasure didn’t end there. We are not talking about just a fine piece of meat, cooked properly, and served with a few afterthoughts. This came with little potato gnocchi, not much bigger than haricot beans, combined with tiny, almost embryonic broad beans. All bathed in a buttery reduction and seasoned with truffle. Frankly, there is no such thing as too much truffle.

This was one of the best things I’ve eaten in a long time. And on a rainy night in Dublin 4, I was transported to Italy.

After a suitable pause, I proceeded to Brendan Ward’s take on tiramisu which was in no way sugary, instead revelling in a kind of dessert savouriness derived from very strong coffee and, in this case, some layers of dark chocolate.

It was good, the chocolate perhaps spoiling the texture while adding undoubted flavour. The tiramisu at Grano on Stoneybatter is still tops for me but Crudo’s was streets ahead of most.

I did what I always do in restaurants where the wine selection is extensive and, to an extent, quirky, and relied on Crudo’s delightful staff to suggest a glass of white and a glass of red. Both proved to be perfect matches.

With a large bottle of mineral water, the bill for this truffle-rich dinner came to €87.