It doesn’t make any sense to me that a restaurant might not have a website, nor that its Instagram would offer no hint as to how a prospective customer might make a reservation. But that’s how it is at Wood Fire Cafe, which supplies neither phone number, email address, nor instruction to message if you want a table.
Thankfully, my friend Katia is in charge of making the booking and has more patience than I do. She secures our spot via Facebook Messenger, having tried the phone number (shown only on the Facebook page) several times — admittedly over lunchtime — only to have it ring out. Maybe Wood Fire has so many customers already, it doesn’t feel that it needs any more, although there are a few empty tables on the midweek night of our visit.
I’ve been aware of Wood Fire for a while, but this is my first visit even though it’s been in business since 2018. As I settle into my seat, read the specials chalked on the board and savour the good smells in the air, I have the anticipation that I’m about to eat some very good food in this unassuming, slightly scruffy, very Italian little enoteca.
Most of our fellow customers are in for pizzas — and the ones at the next table look excellent — but Katia and I are made of sterner stuff and plan to put the full menu through its paces. There are decent olives and taralli on the table, a novelty now that we have all got used to paying for our “snacks”.
My starter showcases luscious burrata di Andria — the best type of burrata, with IGP (Indicazione Geografica Protetta or Indication of Geographic Protection) status, meaning that its quality or reputation is linked to the particular place or region where it is produced, processed or prepared. In this case, the burrata comes from Bari in Puglia, where the handmade cow’s milk cheese “bag” contains a soft, creamy heart of stracciatella — half cheese, half cream. One burrata is really too much for one person as a starter, but given that ooziness is a large part of its appeal, it’s not a cheese that lends itself to easy subdivision. Here it’s accompanied by slices of pistachio-studded mortadella, topped with preserved black truffle, a scattering of rocket leaves and pane carasau — the traditional Sicilian crisp flatbread, akin to carta da musica. The combination works, although the truffle is surplus to requirements — I’d rather have it fresh or not at all — but it’s an assembly rather than a test of kitchen skill and I’m slightly regretting my choice. The portion is far too big.
Katia’s pan-fried octopus with courgette and potato purée, rosemary and lemon zest is much more interesting. The octopus is cooked perfectly — “The crispy bits at the end were a particular highlight,” she emails afterwards — with the lemon zest coming through beautifully, just on the delicate side of citrusy. The presentation is rustic.
I thought I knew my pasta shapes but vesuvio is a new one on me. It’s short, with a larger base spiralling up to a thinner tip. It’s not homemade — I can see the packets on the shelf in the open kitchen — but has good flavour and is nicely cooked. The accompanying lamb ragu is disappointing. Billed as slow-cooked, it seems to have been rushed. The meat is tough and gristly, rather than falling apart, and the flavours of the white wine, rosemary and artichokes aren’t coming through the Parmesan cream poured on the top. It’s another enormous portion — I manage barely a third — as is Katia’s special of asparagus risotto with clams, scallop, burrata and Parmesan, with truffle carpaccio for good measure. There’s a fine ratio of seafood to rice, the asparagus is nicely charred and the rice has good bite, but neither of us finish our food and are appalled by the amount of waste. Writing this, I wish we had asked for doggy bags.
We share what Katia describes as an “efficient” tiramisu, and are sorry that we didn’t try the butter cake described by our server instead, which might have been more interesting. The waitresses are lovely. The chef is female, too.
Wood Fire has a casual, neighbourhood vibe and is handy for the Mater and the Gate. And while generosity in a restaurant is a fine attribute, the portions here are simply too big, with more finesse needed. I suspect if you dropped in for a single plate after a hard day at work, you’d leave feeling comfortably satisfied, and if you came to celebrate a birthday with a gang and ate pizzas and drank house wine, you would have a grand time for a modest outlay. As there aren’t enough places where you can do that in the city, it’s worth making a note. With a bottle of Chianti (€37), our bill comes to €114.95 before service.
Budget The Margherita pizza will set you back €12.50.
Blowout A three-course dinner for two could cost €80 before drinks or service.
The rating 7/10 food 7/10 ambience 8/10 value 22/30
Wood Fire Cafe, 3 Blessington Street, Dublin 7. Instagram @wfcdublin