At Cashel Palace, I find money can buy good taste

It’s unfortunate, of course, but having a great deal of money rarely coincides with good taste. For a lot of people in possession of a fortune, there’s a tendency to show off with what amounts to vulgar bling or to fall prey to the kind of laziness that means spending a lot of loot even when you don’t have to. Just look at dictators’ palaces, Vladimir Putin’s table and chairs, and what has been done to so many blameless and lovely Victorian houses that are unfortunate enough to find themselves on Westminster Road in Foxrock.

You can put all of these considerations aside when it comes to the Cashel Palace Hotel, the complete refurbishment and extension of which has taken years and an undisclosed and doubtless breathtaking budget best expressed just as squillions. Owners Susan and John Magnier have exquisite taste to balance their exceptionally deep pockets and you can tell this as soon as you walk through the door.

The exceptional Georgian house, built in an era when restraint and classicism were truly valued, is simply perfect, the paintings on the wall (copies, admittedly) are the polar opposite of art by the square metre and there’s a sense that no expense has been spared in getting things just right, but no further.

Even the aroma of wood smoke in the front hall, from the open fire, is the scent of the Irish country house, albeit one in better nick than most of them, with the exceptions of Ballyfin and Castletown Cox.

When the Magniers will recoup the squillions already spent is a good question but I suspect it may fall to their children or even grandchildren. You don’t go to Cashel Palace looking for a bargain. You won’t catch a B&B offer on Groupon. You get what you pay for.

However, in the main restaurant, known as The Bishop’s Buttery, you can have a very good set lunch, served with due formality, with crisp linen and sparkling stemware, for €45. You will have to add a fiver for coffee, but filtered water, both still and sparkling, is free. If you want wine, that’s up to you, with prices starting at €12 for a generous glass.

Our lunch kicked off with two tiny, crunchy cones containing whipped cod’s roe, and topped with caviar and yuzu zest. Jewel-like, they exploded with flavour in the mouth. Another amuse bouche came in the form of two little slices of potatoes Anna, buttery and crisp, topped with a chiffonade of fresh truffle. Lovely, and a clear declaration that this no ordinary hotel restaurant.

Incidentally, I must make special mention of the little individual breads: fabulous doll’s house baguette, sweet treacle soda brown bread and crunchy sourdough.

Onwards to starters. Castletownbere crab with apple, dill and macadamia tasted as fresh as a frosty morning and was adorned with two little filigree crisps flavoured with squid ink, a dish involving meticulous attention to detail.

Beef tartare – raw fillet beef chopped and seasoned – was absolutely classic although the egg yolk was confit rather than raw, piquant with plenty of mustard seasoning but not enough to

THE HOUSE WAS BUILT IN AN ERA WHEN RESTRAINT AND CLASSICISM WERE VALUED

smother that lovely salty minerality of the meat.

Crisped fennel provided a sweet contrast of textures. Again, no ordinary dish and actually a rarity as environmental health officers with no knowledge or appreciation of fine food are generally determined to stamp out this classic, damn them.

A main course of agnolotti, pasta parcels containing the local Shepherd’s Store sheep’s cheese were presented with earthy confit celeriac topped with an incredibly fine remoulade, a clever and unexpected touch, shaved truffle, pine nuts and brown butter, a welljudged nod to how this kind of pasta is often served. And the cheese featured again in the sauce. Tiny, dark nasturtium leaves made a lovely little garnish.

Local free range pork came as a well crisped ingot of belly and the fillet, or possibly loin, cooked just pink and sliced, sitting on a little bed of very finely shredded cabbage, with a delightfully sticky jus fortified with mustard grains. Oh, and the earthy sweetness of a little carrot purée.

Purple sprouting broccoli dressed with hazelnuts (€6) and divinely buttery mashed potato (included) were lovely but the mains would have stood just fine on their own.

Desserts were good but not at the same level. A very pretty deconstructed Black Forest with sour cherry sorbet was cleverly put together but overall a little too sweet for us. And whiskey baba, a twist on the classic rum baba, was pleasant rather than impressive, the yeastrisen cake element well soaked in a sweet yet tart syrup that didn’t taste enough of whiskey. Maybe rum is a better idea, but the kitchen here likes to source locally and Tipperary rum is not yet a ‘thing’.

Petits fours had not yet hit the high notes of the rest of the starters and mains but, for heaven’s sake, who’s complaining? I’m just judging to the same high standard that the Cashel Palace would apply to itself.

That’s what makes this place very special. Standards. And, of course, the good taste that money can’t buy. But it’s darn useful in applying it.