Land Ahoy! Home And Terra Firma Cuisine

Andy Rae has been making gastronomic waves across Belfast for some time now with the famous and celebrated Mourne Seafood Bar on Bank Street, just beside Kelly's Cellars.

At the time of its opening, Mourne Seafood's individualistic simplicity, stone-and-wood interior, chalk-board beer list and oyster bar-style dining was a breath of fresh air in a Belfast restaurant scene filled with overcrowded menus, confused, ambiguous 'fusion' cuisine and trendy, overworked interiors.

It was with some excitement, then, that an insatiably hungry populace awaited the appearance of Home; a pop-up bistro which 'popped up' in Autumn 2011. Rae's hand in its creation, concept and, more importantly, a la carte menu, was enough to sell the concept to the city's diners.

Home came, impressed, extended its initial stay and then moved, in 2012, to Wellington Place as a new and permanent fixture in Belfast's restaurant-scape.

Interest in Home doesn't appear to have dissipated since its opening; nor does it seem to have driven any business away from the Mourne Seafood Bar. It is, after all, a change in direction away from seafood towards more terrene cuisine; the 'turf' to MSB's 'surf', if you will.

That's not to say the menu is completely devoid of fruits de mer, however. Head chef Ben Arnold is clearly aware of his audience. Pride of place is afforded to classic continental dishes, composed, naturally, with the best seafood Ireland and its coastline have to offer. Diners are spoilt for choice with offerings such as half lobster and chips, battered squid, deep fried hake and, of course, that stalwart of Franco-Belgian cuisine; moules marinière.

Unfortunately, the Carlingford oysters so beloved of the MSB's patrons are nowhere to be seen; but there is a reason for their absence. Instead, the menu boasts such dishes as hot and sour chicken broth, aged ribeye steak, rump of lamb served with caponata and polenta, and a chunky ¼ Ib cheese burger in a brioche bap.

As you would expect in an Andy Rae restaurant, the beer list is not to be sniffed at. Belgian beer Orval's presence highlights the continental flavour of the menu, while the inclusion of Whitewater's Hoppelhammer (Northern Ireland's first true IPA) is an inspired nod to the burgeoning Ulster ale scene. The wine list is encouraging as well, boasting a decent selection under the £20 mark.

We begin with a glass of Prosecco each, accompanied by a basket of olive bread, chilli dipping oil and black tapenade. Well, that is the intention at least, because no sooner have the pre-dinner snacks arrived, when the starters are set down in front of us.

While my salt n' chilli fried squid fits comfortably beside the basket of bread and dips, my companion Tamsin's half kilo of mussels and accompanying shell-bowl leave her two courses fighting for space (and attention). This is only a minor complaint, however.

Although reminiscent of MSB's salt and chilli squid with napa slaw, Home's variation on the fried squid starter more than justifies its adoption.

Soft, tender squid pieces are surrounded by a salty, crunchy batter, contrasted with cooling side dips of chilli sauce and mayo. The combination of flavours and textures is such that the accompanying, tired-looking salad of dampened leaves and chopped scallions can be forgiven and overlooked.

The mussels, as you would expect, are exceptional. Unhappy with the serving suggestion of korma sauce and chopped almonds, Tamsin orders an accompanying white wine and garlic broth; a request that is unhesitatingly and duly fulfilled. The addition of parsley is to be expected, but the garnish of coriander leaves (clearly an echo of the dish's intended sauce) is a little confused.

The fact that many of the mussels appear on the small side is no reflection on the kitchen, as we are told it is the last half kilo left. They are just cooked and no more; retaining a soft creaminess that is balanced by the peppery bite of flat parsley and the acidity of white wine sauce. Turns out that it's a good thing our starters were brought out before we had finished the bread and dips, as there is plenty of sauce to be soaked up once the mussels have been devoured. I am tempted to lift the bowl to my mouth, in the style of an eight-year-old eating Coco Pops, but remember myself and resist.

For my main, the grilled lobster and chips proves too tempting not to indulge; even at the expense of the equally tempting jerk pork. It arrives and is a joy to behold. A crunchy fennel salad accompanies the grilled half lobster, along with a side of thick-cut, homemade 'fries'.

The lobster is moist and luscious - the tail meat in particular – and so fresh that its aroma is reminiscent of the salty tang of a coastal breeze. The claw meat is soft and sweet; so much so that Tamsin can only laugh as I scoop like a maniac with my lobster spoon, savouring every last morsel of flesh like a famished vulture.

The only complaint with the dish would be the accompanying seafood butter. It is warm, rich and heavily caramelised; almost to the point of crème brulee. On a late summer's evening in Belfast, and accompanied with a cold bottle of the aforementioned Orval, I can't help but feel that a simple, light steaming would have sufficed. As rich and luxurious as the lobster is, the heavy, decadent sauce possibly befits a winter dish better than one served the evening following the summer solstice.

Tamsin opts for the ¼lb burger, which is simply ok. A little stodgy, under seasoned and relatively uninspired, the flimsy beef tomato and cooked onions are rescued only by the rounded, glistening brioche bap, which props up an otherwise mediocre dish. As with the lobster, the chips are sublime.

We finish with a vanilla panna cotta and raspberry sauce and the cheese board.

The panna cotta is creamy and light, offset perfectly with the tart, tangy raspberry accompaniment; however the cheese board is disappointing. There is little there to grab the attention, save an unnamed blue cheese that is more than likely Cashel.

In fact, one of the most frustrating things about the cheeseboard is the lack of information as to what exactly is being served. This is compounded by a biscuit-to-cheese ratio stacked disappointingly in favour of biscuits. It is all a little underwhelming. I decide to push what looks like a red onion chutney and the accompanying biscuit selection aside and munch away on the cheese until it is time to go.

Tamsin, meanwhile, offers me a sip of her Cosmopolitan; a far more apt palate cleanser and end to the meal than my poorly cheeseboard. I begin to regret my choice of dessert and wish I'd opted for a Mojito instead.

No matter. The bill arrives and we hop-foot it to catch the bus.

It's difficult to imagine booking a table for a Saturday night and selecting Home over the superior Mourne Seafood Bar, but for those evenings when the latter is booked up a week in advance, the former will more than do. A good deal of attention could be spent on ironing out some of the creases, and one wonders whether or not such slips are a consequence of our reservedness as a dining nation when compared, say, to France or the USA. I didn't mention any of my (minor) grievances to our waiter, so how can I expect them to know and adapt?

But, while Northern Ireland may still have a way to go before it catches up with the rest of Europe, Home is a further sign that things are moving in the right direction, and that Andy Rae's feet remain solidly on terra firma.

Iain Todd