It's a steakout, roysh

HAVE YOU HEARD the one about the vegan property developer? Nope, me neither. In a decade dominated by men of insatiable appetites, one Dublin restaurant was associated (fairly or unfairly) with the culture of the time. The wealthy flowed through its doors to chew expensive steak. It was much more Boston than Berlin. You got meat and two veg at Michelin star prices and boasted about the bill. Now, Shanahan’s on the Green is 10 years old. And the bluster has evaporated.

What better dining companion for this restaurant than Paul Howard, the creator of Ross O’Carroll-Kelly? The restaurant is the weekly meeting point for Ross’s dad Charles and his chancer soulmate Hennessy.

Howard ate there once at the height of the boom when “you could smell the money”. It was very jolly and loud with lots of braying look-at-me laughter. Now, on a Friday lunchtime in July, no one is wearing a business suit. It’s quiet, with two family tables, ourselves and a fourth table of casually dressed men who look like they made clever choices with their pension funds.

Many of its former customers may be staring into a maw of debt but Shanahan’s sails on. The brass fittings are polished to a mirror shine. The flower arrangement in the window seems to have grown bigger and bushier. Perfect camouflage for a less-than-full dining room, or to shield the diners from the gaze of a city where spending cash is not in season like it used to be.

We settle into the red velvet chairs. They are a bit like thrones, with padded arm rests perfect for supporting a ball of brandy as the afternoon progresses. There are heavy starched linen table cloths and a glittering chandelier overhead. It’s a €45 set lunch menu including coffees. Howard chooses the Caesar salad to start and an 8oz striploin steak for main course. I order the shrimp cocktail and the 6oz petit filet.

Over starters we talk about the casting for Howard's new play, which opens in October. Then there's the 10th Ross book to be called The Oh-My-God Delusionand several non-Ross projects for Ireland's most productive author.

But back to the food. Howard is playing “ration the croutons” with his salad. Usually, he can get two mouthfuls of lettuce per crouton. There are only enough on this plate for one crouton to four forks of lettuce. A skinflint attitude to croutons seems a bit odd given that crisply fried bread is not an expensive ingredient. My starter is underwhelming. I like soft bready shrimp that taste of the sea. These are dense and rubbery and taste of the fridge.

Then on to the thing that Shanahan’s does best. The steaks arrive on hot white plates. They are covered with a rich brown gravy that prompts a Bisto kids moment. Two shining copper pots come next, one with fluffy mash and a smaller with creamy, nutty, spinach. A big tangled birds’ nest of shoestring onions in a bowl arrives last. Howard’s steak is pronounced “melt in your mouth delicious. It’s perfectly done.” My meat is likewise. The gravy tastes of good stock and meat juices deepened down to a satisfying liquid. The spuds and spinach mop up the whole tasty shebang.

Howard’s glass of Bordeaux Château Penin (€9) and my Plantagenet Shiraz (€9.50) slide down beautifully with the steaks. It’s worth requesting tap water here as €13 appears on the bill for the two large bottles used to top up our glasses. That’s €13 on water, more than most people spend on lunch these days.

For dessert, Howard’s white chocolate Oreo cookies cheescake is good and my cheese board has some nice ripe specimens that only get a cursory taste after such a hefty main course.

“The interesting thing for me,” Howard says as the quietness of lunch deepens into late afternoon, “is that looking back over all 10 books, this is one of the last places that is still here. All of Ross’s haunts, Reynards, AKA, Cocoon, all the shops have gone. All that’s left is Shanahan’s and BT’s. And now there’s a sign in BT’s saying ‘personal cheques no longer accepted’. The whole topography of Ross’s world is changing.”

In the absence of suits, the tables seem to be being filled by family celebrations, even if one might have to ransack the kids’ confirmation fund to pay for it.

On the way out, a polished brass plate reminds customers that the management does not accept responsibility “for anything lost or stolen on the premises”. If these lemon yellow walls could talk about the deals done or celebrated here, who knows exactly what that figure might come to.

Lunch for two with two glasses of wine and two bottles of water came to €121.50.