Mother has had a makeover

. . . but the French favourites are as reliable as ever at La Mère Zou, writes CATHERINE CLEARY

AN OLD-FASHIONED BAR of Verveine soap, a bag of sandy wetsuits and happy memories of the Intermarché fish counter were among the things we brought back from our French holiday this year. We had no stories of enchanting French restaurants as our two dining-out experiences were of the greasy frites avec pizza variety typical of tourist traps worldwide.

Generations of outsiders have revered the French way of cooking. One of them was Californian Alice B Toklas who pre-dated Julia Child’s American-in-culinary-Paris adventure. Toklas wrote dispatches from the kitchens of first World War France, and The Alice B Toklas Cookbook has one of the best descriptions of how to spot a great restaurant from the look of its cook. “Like many first-rate women cooks she had tired eyes and a wan smile. This seemed a happy omen.” And it was. Lunch of truffle omelette, veal with asparagus tips and local cheeses followed.

It’s a wet Monday evening and I’m surrounded by French-speaking diners discussing life, food and music. I can’t see the chef’s face. But through the sash windows I can see the legs of people walking by and beyond them the trees of St Stephen’s Green dripping with rain. We’re sitting in a basement restaurant in Dublin.

La Mère Zou has a Belgian owner and a French bistro style of cooking. It’s been around a long time, 17 years this year, and I remember it being more pink and flowery in the days when I lunched there as a journalist looking for stories.

It has had a more masculine revamp and been panelled in painted timber plastered with small collages of old masters, all rich dark colours and fleshy nudes at diners’ eye level. There are no table cloths but there are heavy linen napkins. The service is smart, calm and efficient. The small place has the hum of a well-run machine. There are lights to illuminate the blackboards so people don’t have to squint through the darkness. We’re here for the early-bird and there are plenty of specials sprinkled with extras on the boards to tempt you off the €26.50 deal for three courses.

A small dish of gorgeous herbed olives sit on the table as I wait for Ali to arrive. We get a basket of bread that looks a little on the skimpy side but has nice rounds of baguette that prove to be plenty. Two glasses of the house Pinot Grigio (€6 each) start things off. Ali’s goats’ cheese beignets (fried dough balls) arrive on a slate, prettily arranged in a small portion. They are delicious.

My asparagus starter is more of a warm potato salad: small shards of asparagus are topped with a crispy egg, all of it smothered in a tarragon vinaigrette. There are no fancy ingredients but it’s very tasty.

Ali has the seared salmon with a roast garlic and honey mash. It’s so good she is tempted to lick the slate that it comes on. My daube of beef comes in a cocotte (a French word that means both a cast iron cooking pot and a prostitute, which says a lot about everything French). The cocotte is a serving flourish as these ingredients have been carefully cooked in several other vessels. Bright, still crunchy vegetables – a perfect carrot, a young leek and a perfect sprig of broccoli – are a masterclass in how to cook vegetables beautifully. There’s a roasted shallot too, with its papery skin keeping the shallot flesh inside juicy. The beef has been so gently done it has softened to silk. The only slight disappointment is a watercress risotto at the bottom. It’s a lovely fresh green colour, but curiously flavourless. I suspect a light hand with the butter in the risotto, which is probably better for my heart but my taste buds would have preferred an extra dollop on the pan.

A glass of house Côtes du Rhône goes down nicely.

Two note-perfect desserts, a chocolate and spéculoos (a type of biscuit) cheesecake and a crème brûlée with minted strawberries round things off.

We get a text from a friend who’s spending a month in Paris. “It’s not all fun,” he insists. “Am cramming as we speak for an exam in the morning, albeit while sitting on a cafe terrace overlooking the Jardin du Luxembourg. If it wasn’t for the glass of Bordeaux, I’d be quite stressed.” It’s a consolation to be in La Mère Zou when reading a sickener text like that one.

They’ve cracked the French bistro formula here, kept the prices low, passed on the recent VAT reduction and made longevity on the Dublin restaurant scene look easy. Upstairs, the Cliff Town House looks empty as we leave. On a wet Monday night it wouldn’t surprise me if this small basement operation is feeding more people than its glamorous upstairs neighbour.

Early-bird dinner for two with five glasses of wine and a mint tea came to €85.50.

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La Mere Zou

22 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2,

tel: 01- 6616669

Facilities: A bit grim. They are in a nook under the stone steps at the front so they feel chilly

Wheelchair access: No

Music: Some French jazz playing at the start of the evening

Food provenance: None

Coeliac-friendly: No designated dishes

Cheap wine, good food: D&C

The bring-your-own-bottle restaurant experience is becoming more common. But in those restaurants where they still have a wine list it's nearly impossible to find a bottle of house wine for under €20. Step forward Dunne & Crescenzi in Dublin's South Frederick Street, where the house red and white (the wines change regularly so check out the chalk boards) are priced at an attractive €15. I'm not saying it will bring back the liquid lunch, but it helps that the food you'll be eating with your wine is the kind of competent Italian cooking this small chain has been doing very well. I had the vegetarian antipasto plate (€9) there recently and it was very tasty, with Tuscan beans, olives, sundried tomatoes and some of the freshest bread I've had recently. Just don't sit in the dark corner like we did as you have to semaphore for service if it's busy.

Dunne & Crescenzi, South Frederick Street, tel: 01-6773815