|
By
Hank Hoffman
Published 03/02/00 There's always an element of theater to artful dining.
The courses arrive as different acts; the diners improvise
their dialogue in reaction to the dishes set before them.
Suffice to say that the fare served at
the Playwright
Pub and Restaurant makes for a hearty staging. Varied
and cosmopolitan, it's worth dancing a jig over.
But
who am I to judge Irish food? I don't have a drop of
the old Emerald Isle in my blood. To gain some authentic
perspective -- or, at least, authentic Irish-American
perspective -- Jane (half-Irish, half-English) and I
invited along our pals, Chris and Niki Donovan. Besides
both of them being of 100 percent Irish descent, Chris
is a state representative from Meriden, a pol with a
very Irish zest for the public life.
The public life of Ireland -- both politics and the
glorious literary tradition from which the restaurant
derived its name -- is evident in the surroundings.
The walls of the Playwright's bar half are hung with
images of the poets, novelists and playwrights whose
flights of language marked the Irish Renaissance. Photos
of such heroes of nationhood as Michael Collins and Eamon de Valera adorn the dining section.
The
bar area is a study in elegance. Co-owner Eamonn Ryan,
speaking in a melodious brogue, says
he and his partners
crafted on site the ornate, polished mahogany trim.
All the furniture and stained
glass came from Ireland.
In contrast, the dining room evokes an Irish peasant
cottage. The bonding on the wall -- also from
Ireland
-- resembles stucco. Along the shelves near the ceiling
are antique jugs and other items of
rural life, imported
from the home country. The walls are decorated with
old-time ads for cigarettes,
beer and whiskey as well
as calls to arms for Irish independence. Exposed wood
beams are Irish
railroad ties.
We secure the last available table in the dining room
on the Wednesday evening we visit. With the
hum of contented
conversation and the flickering glow of flames in the
two stone fireplaces, a homey feeling envelops us. Chris
and I each order black & tans, half-Guinness, half-Bass
Ale. Each of
us settles on an entree and we select three
appetizers to share.
When
the appetizers arrive, our eyes almost pop out of our
heads: They're huge, practically meals
in themselves.
Chris surveys the Irish smoked salmon ($8.95) and pronounces,
"I'm full." But the
three slabs of pink-orange
salmon, set on brown bread on a mixed greens bed and
dotted about
with chopped hard-boiled eggs, capers and
red onion, is too enticing to resist. Plus, there's
the
call of heritage.
"My grandfather would be so proud that I'm eating
this," says Chris. "He was a fisherman and
he liked eggs."
After we've polished off the salmon, Niki eats the mixed
greens. A salad with a variety of flavorful
greens is
as much of a treat as the rest of the meal.
While
the smoked salmon is our appetizer star -- cue image
of fish bowing at the waist -- the other
two selections
are also fine. The crispy beer-battered mushrooms ($5.95)
are a plateful of fat buttons enveloped in fluffy, golden
batter, accompanied by a horseradish cream sauce. The
hot buffalo wings ($5.95) are meaty and spicy, the heat
tempered by a creamy blue cheese dip.
For entrees, we split three-to-one for traditional fare.
Chris orders the Guinness stew ($12.95), Jane
the house
shepherd's pie ($10.95) and Niki the chicken pot pie
($10.50). Interested in how the
Playwright handles dishes
outside Irish home cooking, I choose one of the specials,
a grilled,
stuffed veal chop with gorgonzola demi-glaze
($18.95).
The answer? Quite well, thanks. The thick veal chop
arrives in a beautiful presentation. Atop a
swirl of
mashed potatoes, it is tender and stuffed with sundried
tomatoes and emerald green
spinach. Ribbons of julienned
carrots, squash and zucchini adorn the meat.
Playing right to its strength, the Playwright also gets
high marks for the traditional dishes. The
Guinness
stew comes in a big bowl with a little rose-like swirl
of mashed potatoes on one side,
more for aesthetics
since the stew contains potato. The lamb is tender and
Chris says the sauce
is "tasty, not too strong."
The chicken pot pie is topped with light, airy pastry.
Both the chicken
pot pie and the shepherd's pie are
delicious in the old-fashioned way, not jazzed up to
score any
nouvelle cuisine points.
When
we finally push the plates away -- with some left to
take home -- we're happy and satisfied.
As the curtain
rings down on our dinner, we applaud the Playwright.
|
