The Old Spot

Just what Dublin needed - another gastropub masquerading as fine dining. The Old Spot sits there on Bath Avenue, smugly collecting accolades while I roll my eyes at yet another "elevated pub experience." But damn them for actually living up to the hype.

I arrived determined to hate it. The exterior is understated to the point of being almost apologetic, which in Dublin usually means either spectacular food or spectacular disappointment. The dim lighting inside screams "we're fancy now," though I'll grudgingly admit it creates an atmosphere that works equally well for a casual pint or a proper dinner.

Let's address the elephant in the room - The Old Spot has been flirting with Michelin recognition, and unlike most Dublin venues with similar aspirations, they haven't let it go to their heads. The menu prices won't make you choke on your Guinness, though they're certainly not giving it away. But here's the infuriating part: nearly everything is worth what they're charging.

Take their wagyu burger, for instance. I ordered it fully prepared to pen a scathing critique about pretentious beef, but the perfectly cooked patty, paired with hand-cut fries that somehow maintain their crispiness well past the point of scientific reason, left me struggling to find fault. It's like they're not even trying to give me material to work with.

The fish and chips - a dish I've consumed in approximately 847 Dublin pubs - manages to distinguish itself with a batter so light it borders on ethereal. Even their mushy peas (a side dish that usually resembles something you'd find in a baby's nappy) are surprisingly palatable. Who gave them the right?

The Sunday roast deserves its own paragraph, if only because it's single-handedly ruining other Sunday roasts across the city. The portion sizes are generous enough to satisfy even the most hardcore hangover, yet they maintain the finesse you'd expect from a place with Michelin ambitions. It's an impressive balancing act that makes me irrationally angry.

Service here walks that fine line between attentive and hovering, and somehow manages not to fall off the tightrope. The staff knows their stuff without being pretentious about it - a rare combination in Dublin's dining scene. They'll help you navigate the wine list or suggest a craft beer without making you feel like an idiot, which is refreshingly civilized.

The drinks program deserves mention, if only because they've managed to create a list that satisfies both the "just a pint" crowd and the "let me tell you about this small-batch gin" brigade. Their cocktails are particularly good, though I'm loath to admit it. The salted caramel espresso martini is basically dessert in a glass, and I'm not even mad about it.

Speaking of dessert (which I usually ignore because let's be honest, most Dublin restaurants treat it as an afterthought), they've somehow managed to make this course worth saving room for. Though if you've somehow managed to save room after their generous main courses, you have more self-control than I do.

The restaurant draws a mixed crowd - suits from the nearby offices, locals treating it as their regular, and tourists who've somehow stumbled upon it. The fact that it works for all of them is annoyingly impressive. You'll want to book ahead, especially for Sunday roast, unless you enjoy the particular pleasure of watching other people eat while you wait for a table.

Look, I didn't want to like The Old Spot. Dublin has enough gastropubs-turned-fine-dining establishments to sink the island. But they've managed to create something that actually works - a venue that elevates pub food without losing its soul, maintains quality without breaking the bank, and delivers consistency without becoming boring. It's infuriating.

Go ahead and book a table. Join the chorus of satisfied diners. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain. And for the love of all things holy, if you're visiting from abroad, remember to tip. It may not be required, but after a meal here, you'll want to anyway. The Old Spot has earned it, despite my best efforts to prove otherwise.