Lobster so good it would be shellfish not to indulge

Peploe’s and to bring bistro food to a higher level and he has succeeded brilliantly. But what is a bistro? The dictionary definition has it down as a small, inexpensive, unpretentious restaurant but I think this needs to be updated. Bistro, for a lot of us, doesn’t always mean small (Peploe’s is pretty big and buzzing in normal times) but it does mean unpretentious.

Bistro is not foams or gels, it’s not gold leaf, it’s not food that has been tortured into fanciness. It’s not, God help us, things we’ve never heard of or ants or live prawns. It’s not assembled with tweezers. And while not expensive, it doesn’t have to be cheap as chips.

Anyway, to table! We started with arancini of beef short rib (€11), a rich, very generous riff on the traditional balls of risotto with a core of mozzarella. These were much more beef than rice, deeply meaty, generous (a perennial Peploe’s theme) and with a proper, intense, carefully judged tomato sauce.

And then – on mature reflection – the best grilled lobster dish (€90 for two) that I’ve had in many years, possibly ever. And, you know what? As someone who cooks lobster every now and then, a large part of the pleasure was in being handed a perfectly prepared dish with no need to kill and cook the creatures, remove the sand vein, pull out the mouth parts and... well, you get the picture.

What we got were lots of bitesized pieces of lobster, returned to the wild garlic-lined shell, generously coated in a creamy, buttery, delightfully savoury sauce that bubbled as this dish emerged from beneath the grill. It was, for us, the definition of luxury, decadence even.

This was served with properly al dente noodles (remarkable in a meal box) bathed in a bright green and powerfully flavoured wild garlic pesto.

To finish, there was rhubarb and apple tart, the fruit (yes, I know

rhubarb is a vegetable!) sitting atop a gloriously light yet buttery almond sponge – a delicate form of frangipane – within a crisp pastry shell. With vanilla-scented crème fraîche, it made a happily simple, comforting dessert.

Next day it was time to take the perfectly trimmed rack of lamb (€80 with starter and dessert) from the fridge, complete with its very fine herb crust topped with a slice of butter, and let it come to room temperature before popping it into the oven. As it cooked, we enjoyed buffalo mozzarella from Campania with olives, roasted pepper and pesto, a sunny dish for a cool Irish spring Sunday lunch.

While many people shy away from making gravy or, worse still, use an industrial devil’s brew of flavourings and colours to make a terrible pastiche version, it’s actually quite easy and, often, thoroughly satisfying.

However, I have to say one of the joys of meal boxes is the zero-labour gravy. The one that came with the pheasant from Blair’s Inn a few weeks ago lives on in memory. As I said then, it was something that took lots of time to make: planning, bones, careful seasoning, red wine no doubt, and more.

The same went for the dark, profound rosemary-scented gravy – sorry, red wine jus! – here.

To be able to pour this into a small saucepan and simply reheat it, was another form of luxury.

As, indeed, were the duck fat roast potatoes, fashioned like very large chips, that absorbed much of that jus.

And the lamb itself, went on to feed us, once more, next day.

THE textbook definition of bistro food may involve the word ‘inexpensive’ but cooking at this level, food of this quality, is never going to be cheap. Our lobster meal was sheer luxury at €90. There’s also a 3-course côte de boeuf box, the dry-aged meat provided by Higgins’ Butchers, at €80.

Collection slots are available between 12 noon and 3pm, Friday and Saturday.

€14, TESCO

I MUST confess to finding New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc all a bit samey. There, I’ve said it! Lovely now and again but the charm palls for me after a while. Of course, the Kiwis make stunning and often very expensive Pinot Noirs. Here’s an affordable one: classically varietal, savoury, delicious. Great with lamb.

THE French call this simple, inexpensive dish Poor Man’s Asparagus and I have to say that it’s almost as good as the real thing. I have some leeks that I planted a bit too late last year and they are now nice and slim and quite ready to eat. You can use the usual thick ones, of course, as there’s no difference in flavour, but the slim young ones just look better on the plate.

It makes a surprisingly impressive starter for a spring lunch or a light main course. The Côteaux Varois en Provence Rosé mentioned left would make the perfect accompaniment - along with plenty of crusty, sourdough bread and butter.

3 large eggs

450g leeks

50ml dry white wine salt

4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil 1 dsp wine vinegar

1 dsp French mustard 1 clove of garlic

1 dsp parsley, very finely chopped black pepper

Pre-heat the oven to 180ºC.

Boil the eggs for 10 minutes and then cool them under cold running water. Shell them and set aside for the present.

Trim and wash the leeks.

If they are tall and slim, cut them into lengths of about 10cm. If they are shorter and broader, cut them into discs about 2cm thick.

Place the trimmed and cut or sliced leeks in a shallow baking dish and sprinkle on the wine. Season with a little salt. Cover the leeks with foil, baking parchment or a couple of old butter wrappers. Place in the oven for 45 minutes or until quite tender (you can check this by simply pushing a fork in).

Remove from the oven and allow to cool. Take a screwcap jar with a fairly wide mouth and carefully drain the liquid from the leeks into it. Add the olive oil, the vinegar and the mustard. Peel the garlic and chop it very finely before adding to the rest of the ingredients in the jar. Screw on the lid and shake very thoroughly until the contents are completely emulsified.

Pour this dressing over the cooked leeks and shake the dish to ensure that it penetrates well. Then finely grate the hard boiled eggs over the dressed leeks to form a bright yellow and white blanket. Sprinkle on the parsley and season with black pepper.

Put the dish in a cool place to rest and to allow the flavours to merge and develop - a couple of hours would be ideal.