Spitalfields

Beef cheek at the pub pass

The beef cheek and oxtail filling lands in a Parker House roll before service. Spitalfields in Dublin sits at that line of pub comfort and kitchen discipline, inside the Liberties room at 25 The Coombe. No chef is put forward, and the kitchen is known instead by its assurance: seasonal, high-quality ingredients handled with a laser focus on thoughtful preparation that lifts comfort food. That suits a gastropub built around shared appetite rather than performance, where the open kitchen leaves the timing visible from the room. Here, Irish pub grammar stays legible: roll, schnitzel, pie, oyster, pint, gravy. The kitchen then asks more of each one. Beef cheek and oxtail need the long way, cooked until the fibres give without turning loose. Iberico pork schnitzel depends on its fat, its crumb, and the timing between pan and pass. The gesture is not to disguise the pub, but to tighten it.

Rendered fat, crisp crumb, bone marrow gravy

The menu is à la carte, with small plates, starters, mains, grill dishes for sharing, and desserts moving by season. Its signatures tell the method. The Beef Cheek and Ox Tail Parker House Roll is built around fully rendered, shreddy meat and bone marrow gravy, a dip that pulls the richness back through the bun. The Iberico Pork Schnitzel comes from acorn-fed pork, cut for fat and flavour, with fennel slaw, dill, cucumber, and sauce kept apart so the crumb stays crisp. Fish cookery has its own discipline: monkfish tail with charred corn, girolles, chicken butter, peas, broad beans, and clams asks the sauce to carry weight without smothering the fish. The pub notes stay close at hand, bitterballen with Colemans mustard mayo, roast bone marrow with chimichurri and sourdough, cock-a-leekie pie served for sharing. Local sourcing appears in the produce list through 100% Irish beef, hand-dived scallops, Knockanore smoked cheese, Corleggy goats cheese, and Kellys oysters.

The room keeps the kitchen in view

Spitalfields still reads as a pub before it announces itself as a restaurant. Low light falls on wooden tables; the room has the lived-in grain of an old Dublin house, with a bar that can hold pints, whiskey, craft beer, cocktails, coffee, and a curated wine list beside the food. The open kitchen changes the register. Plates are cooked, seasoned, and reviewed in sight of the room, so the pass becomes part of the hospitality rather than a hidden mechanism. The noise stays conversational, which matters with food this rich. A schnitzel needs the first cut to sound clean. A Parker House roll needs a table willing to pass the gravy. The Bib Gourmand belongs to Spitalfields, but the better measure is more immediate: the room waits for the bone marrow gravy.