Ross Lewis’s hideaway is first pasta the post for Italian fare

I’m prepared to stick my neck out here and say that Osteria Lucio, tucked away on Grand Canal Quay, at some distance from the main concentration of restaurants in Dublin, does the best Italian food in the country. We have long had lots of places that can be described, as the Americans would say, as red sauce joints – in other words, an interpretation of Italian cooking adapted to Irish tastes. It’s the same with Chinese restaurants. The vast majority of them, for decades, did a tamed and muted version of the real thing. The China Sichuan offered, for a long time, the only authentic Chinese cuisine in Ireland.

Of course, it has now been joined by a phalanx of places that are the genuine article: Hakkahan, Nan’s, Little Dumpling, to name just a few. The real deal in Italians is thinner on the ground but I have to mention the deliciously eccentric Rosa Madre on the Dublin Quays and, to an extent, Rinuccini in Kilkenny.

But Osteria Lucio is special. This is Ross Lewis’s baby, he of Chapter One fame, where he has handed over the reins to Mickael Viljanen and which should have got a third Michelin star this week if there was justice in the system. Which, of course, there isn’t.

Osteria Lucio is a busy place, even early in the evening, thanks to it being a handy spot for eating before heading to the Bord Gáis Energy Theatre – if this is your plan, make sure to book at the same time as your tickets.

We ate there on a Thursday evening and were very lucky to get a table. The place was jammers to the extent that there was a whiff of

Celtic Tiger days about much of the clientele.

Osteria Lucio is not cheap. Nobody who understands food and restaurants could expect it to be. Ross Lewis has always had very high standards, and so it is here too. Such quality and attention to detail costs. But nor is it wildly expensive.

Given the stellar background, I don’t want you to run away with the idea that the Italian food here is in any way cheffy or complicated. It’s actually brilliantly simple, even pure. Less is truly more.

Having said that, Capesante Marinata (€15), marinated slices of scallop with blood orange, slivers of green olive and toasted sesame seeds could have been from a Michelin-starred menu, especially in

Italy. The citrus acidity had ‘cooked’ or firmed the scallop, and there was an enchanting balance between sweetness, tartness, savouriness and the marine tang of the seafood. Simple, clever, clean and lovely.

Our other starter was a risotto of smoked duck and radicchio (€14), presented on a shallow plate with swirls of a very proper balsamic reduction, a glorious expression of meaty richness with a background kick of bitterness. This was a very grown-up dish, flawless in execution and presentation.

Even simpler, in a sense, was a main course of wild boar lasagne (€26). Is lasagne the most traduced Italian dish on the planet? It’s certainly up there, with its payload of ‘Bolognese sauce’ and thick, under

THE FOOD HERE IS ACTUALLY BRILLIANTLY SIMPLE, EVEN PURE. LESS IS TRULY MORE

seasoned bechamel. This lasagne was from a different part of the universe, presented in a shallow cast iron skillet.

A fabulously rich, intense, profound ragu of wild boar – or cinghiale, as it says on the menu – was mixed with just the right amount of earthy chard, making something more than the sum of its parts. Sandwiched between silky sheets of real pasta with two kinds of cheese – scamorza and caciocavallo – this made quite simply excellent eating.

Vitello alla Milanese (€30) was a take on the classic, which features a slice of veal hammered out into a thin sheet before being breadcrumbed. This was unhammered, so to speak, but exceptionally tender, a kind of rich savoury mousse of Parma ham having been inserted between the juicy meat and the perfectly even, crisp coating.

It was an exercise in consummate simplicity, coming with just a dollop of herb and garlic mayonnaise for lubrication and a little salad that led with crunchy, slightly bitter, redflecked leaves of radicchio del Castelfranco. This is my kind of food. It won’t be yours if you want a great big plate of dinner, but horses for courses, eh?

To follow, we tucked in to a selection of Italian cheeses (€15), including memorable Taleggio and Pecorino, and a classic – very classic – tiramisu (€11) with layers of mascarpone and savoiardi biscuits thoroughly drenched in the strongest imaginable coffee. If you like dessert on the unsweet side – it’s certainly far from savoury but also far from cloying – this is the one for you.

Coffee was predictably Italian and very good. Being a proper Italian restaurant, there was no mention of limoncello.

Yes, Osteria Lucio must be doing the best Italian food in the country. The proof, as always, is in the eating.