If Bubba’s is fishing for compliments, it will find them here!

There’s something special about fish markets. Maybe it’s because I have vivid memories of rolling up at 6am to the huge one in Sydney and marvelling at the seafood of the southern hemisphere before adjourning for breakfast at a series of brilliant cafés dotted around this bustling space. And that it was nearby that I overcame my lifelong distaste, as I had seen it, for oysters. I’ve never looked back.

For someone who had to be coaxed to eat fish as a child, and who was 30 before he ordered a fish dish in a restaurant, my conversion has long been complete. Well, nearly. I don’t eat sardines or herrings but otherwise I’m very comfortable with the creatures of the deep.

So the words ‘fish market’ after ‘Bubba’s’ had an effect upon me similar to what happened when an old war horse, in the days of cavalry charges, got a whiff of cordite.

It was then that I discovered that ‘bubba’ is a term of endearment for ‘brother’ in the southern United States. What this has to do with Dalkey, I don’t know, but there are brothers involved, three of them to be precise.

Stephen, Philip and David, the bubbas in question, are the third generation of Hanleys to work in hospitality. Their grandfather had the pub at Galloping Green and their dad Padraic had Ouzos, first in Ranelagh and latterly in Dalkey and Blackrock. Bubba’s occupies the site of what I think of as a succession of short-lived Chinese restaurants just opposite the terminus for one of Dublin’s rarest buses, the number 8.

It’s a bright, airy, modern space with loads of outside tables and a family-friendly menu. In one eclectic swoop we move from oysters (yes, please!), through calamari to fish and chips, burgers and seafood linguine and onwards to key lime pie and sticky toffee pudding. Nothing cutting edge, foraged or – god forbid! – ‘curated’. Just old favourites and classics.

It’s surprising that more restaurants don’t try this formula: something for everyone.

It had been a long day of driving all over the sunny south-east (no, seriously, the sun was splitting the stones) and it was good to get on the Dart and head to Dublin’s most upmarket village (Malahide).

It was even better to sit outside Bubba’s on my own and watch the daylight turn to dusk while enjoying half a dozen oysters (€13) with a shallot vinaigrette and a glass of cool Chablis. In terms of simple pleasures, this is right up there and Bubba’s was delivering exactly what I wanted when I wanted it. Next time I might forgo the vinaigrette for the ginger, chilli and rice wine dressing because it sounds so good, changing the habits of a lifetime (or at least since I started eating oysters).

Then there was the question of what I’d have next and fact that I can, in the immortal words of the divine Oscar, resist anything except temptation. This is especially the case when faced with salt and pepper calamari (€9.50) and

Bubba’s sweet chilli jam which I assumed, correctly, would be the

THE CALAMARI WAS A LESSON IN HOW THIS SIMPLE DISH SHOULD BE DONE BUT RARELY IS

same as the one that used to be served in Ouzos, the very antithesis of that day-glo orange sweet chilli sauce that seems to be covering the country like an allergic rash.

This sweet chilli jam is thick and sharp with lime and, used discreetly as a dip, is a proper flavour enhancer. The calamari was, as expected, tender within and crisp without, dry with no oiliness, a lesson in how this simple dish should be done but so rarely is.

Delightful as these two dishes were, I needed a little more before heading back to the Dublin bijou residence and my bed. So I had the crab and Dublin Bay prawn open sandwich (€12.50) served on thin slices of first class brown soda bread.

First of all note that this specifies Dublin Bay prawns, not Atlantic prawns or any of the alternative, frankly rather inferior and cheaper kinds of prawn.

These ones were the real deal. Bound together with a light lemon and dill mayonnaise, the white crab meat and prawns were as fresh as a frosty dawn and, frankly, one of the simplest and best things I’ve had in quite a while.

It would have been simply foolish not to have had a second glass of Chablis, so I did the sensible thing. Had there been a number 8 bus in front of me right on cue, the evening would have been perfect.

But it was no great hardship to stroll up to the Dart station, feeling satisfied and happy.