No missed steak at this eccentric veggie-led Cork delight

Ithink it’s fair to say that when we think of the food of Italy, our thoughts don’t stray towards the vegetarian option. But when we delve a little deeper, there are lots of classic Italian dishes that steer well clear of meat, if not always dairy. I suppose this is because Italy, like most countries, has never been great at sharing wealth. But it does have a lovely climate, even though I know this is a bit of a wild generalisation when you compare, say the Alpine meadows up north with the arid slopes of Mount Etna. But let’s face it, they do tomatoes very well in most regions. And so, the cooking of the poor, the cucina povera, has always been colourful and deliciously frugal. Meat has rarely been cheap, so yes, the vegetarian options are wide and varied even if the average Italian, I suspect, doesn’t quite think of it in these terms.

Lorenzo and the other Italians in Cork’s Sonflour, by contrast, are enthusiastic supporters of vegetarians and vegans and their little restaurant – inexpensively fitted out, cheerful and blissfully wellpriced – is a lovely oasis in the city. When my wife Johann and I – who live on the Cork-Waterford border – descend on Cork for a couple of hours’ shopping, we like to base our visit around lunch, and now we have another favoured spot. I have a feeling we’re going to be regulars.

Now, forgive me for writing an inverted restaurant review, starting with the desserts or, as I perversely insist on calling them, ‘puddings’. They certainly weren’t puddings in the accepted sense of the word: they were cakes. A rich cheesecake studded with raspberries was a thing of beauty. Okay, not much to look at but creamy and silky and delicious.

But it was the vegan chocolate mousse (rendered vaguely cake-like by its podium of dark, crisp, biscuit) that was not just the star of the lunch but one of the best celebrations of chocolate I’ve had in a very long time. Completely dairy-free, amazingly, it was chocolate with the volume turned up to 11 in the manner of Spinal Tap – velvet in texture, richly adhering to the tongue and palate and lingering thrillingly there for what seemed like ages.

If, like me, you’re a vegan sceptic, do go and try it. As Johann commented, if it were not on the menu with the word ‘vegan’ frontloaded in big letters but just had a discreet ‘ve’ in parenthesis, it would probably sell by the ton.

Anyway, to the savoury bits. We shared a slice of socca farinata (€5.90), a silky smooth chickpea flour pancake seasoned with herbs and good olive oil which we spread with the two accompanying dips, both vegan: pesto – just think pesto without the cheese, brightly green and herby – and a very proper tomato sauce.

Where Sonflour really scores – leaving aside the chocolate mousse, which is made by an Italian pastry chef – is with its pizza dough, which is fermented for 48 hours, making it delicate and digestible with the greatest of ease. We sampled it in the form of a ‘Summer on a Solitary Beach stuffed pizza’ (€9.10; fanciful names are de rigeur here): flatbread, split and stuffed with rocket, cherry tomatoes, Macroom buffalo

DESSERT WAS ONE OF THE BEST CELEBRATIONS OF CHOCOLATE I’VE HAD IN A VERY LONG TIME

mozzarella and anointed with pesto and garlic oil.

The delicate crunch and the robust filling were pleasingly different and would only have been improved if the tomatoes had been given a little roasting in order to concentrate what little flavour they tend to have at this time of the year.

Try as I will, I can’t figure out why my pasta sauce is called ‘Norma(l) People’ but, as I say, the menu nomenclature here is distinctly creative. There’s even a flatbread called ‘I Lost My Mind By The Shakey Bridge’ which may have a hidden meaning understood only buy natives of Sunday’s Well.

Anyway, my linguine (€14.30), freshly made and cooked and distinctly chewy in the best al dentestyle, came with fried aubergine, caramelised cherry tomatoes, fresh pesto drops, walnuts and garlic oil.

Good as it was, it didn’t quite hang together, the cherry tomatoes seemed to have briefly looked at a hot oven and taken fright, and the walnuts would have been better if toasted. It also cried out for a mountain of fluffy Parmesan, which was not available.

I was offered mozzarella but, well, you know it’s not the same. In the end I added a bit of salt and the whole thing was lifted.

Fun, eccentric, not quite flawless – but who is? – we loved Sonflour. And we’ll be back.