Díon

What's the scoop on Díon?

It's the new rooftop bar and restaurant in the old Central Bank building (now Central Plaza) that's been years in the making, and finally opened last weekend after multiple delays. The site was originally due to be leased by the Irish operator of PF Changs, but when a global pandemic caused that to fall through, an Irish company known as Dreamview set their sites on it. It appears to be mainly funded by Irish corporate lawyer Barry McGrath, with Alan Clancy (a long time hospitality pro behind House, 37 Dawson Street and The Wright Venue) initially a fellow director. Díon is the Irish for roof, pronounced "dee-in".

There's been rumblings of issues with the site for months, with Clancy stepping down as director in October (he's still described as a hospitality consultant to the business), and this week the news broke that Clancy's House venues in Dublin and Limerick have gone into receivership with an estimated €10 million owed. An 'annus horribilis' perhaps.

While press releases started coming in September about its November opening, the date was put back again and again, with several people complaining on Díon's Instagram page a couple of weeks ago that they'd woken that morning to an automated email saying their booking for the same day had been cancelled. Not even a phone call? Help to find a table elsewhere? Not their problem apparently.

It finally opened late last week, offering discounts on the menu for one night (as far as we can ascertain). You start below ground level, entering the doors to find hosts who will escort you via lift up to the tenth floor restaurant. We're told the plan is is start guests on the ninth floor and offer them a drink first, before ascending the stairs for dinner, but it's all a bit of a mess right now.

So what's the problem?

This venue is not finished and shouldn't have opened - clearly an ill-advised decision was made to cash in on the Christmas rush. Floors remain unfinished at the joins; nails sit on the ground ready to pierce the soles of diners walking by; there's a hole in the bathroom wall where a mirror should be; loose wires stick out along the staircases; kick boards under banquette seating were falling down hitting diners' ankles.

Whoever was responsible for painting and finishing the ground floor looks to have gone on holidays midway through and forgotten to come back. Other online reviews from the early days of opening noted power tools on the ground; dust everywhere; a fire audit taking place during their meal with alarms going off for 30 minutes. There's something embarrassingly Irish about it all - "sure isn't it grand? What do they want?"

What about the room and views?

They're the reason it'll take you a while to spot the nails on the floor. Whatever we were expecting from Ireland's first 360° rooftop restaurant and bar, the reality of this glass box in the sky and its palatial design work exceeded it.

It's incredible to be able to look down on every part of Dublin city centre and beyond, like a bird soaring over Dame Street, Trinity, the Convention Centre, the Ha'Penny Bridge - be sure to walk the full periphery of the room for the whole spell-binding effect. If there's a particular city marker that has a special place in your heart, ask for a view of it while you eat.

The best tables are along the windows (and there are loads of them), with larger tables for groups (rectangular and round) set back from the front row, but there are no bad vantage points - you just can't escape these views.

It does have a bit of a luxury liner feel to it, particularly when descending the stairs to the ninth floor below the restaurant, but we've never been adverse to a bit of luxury travel, and it all feels a bit surreal that we have something at this level (both physically and figuratively) in little 'ol Dublin.

A sidenote though for parents - despite the restaurant being full of kids in with their families for an early dinner, they didn't think ahead enough to order high chairs, so they will be left to sit on laps or crawl over banquettes until they sort it out - which is really relaxing for their parents.

What's the menu like?

At first glance, snoozeville. It's a rare day that we struggle to decide what to order because so LITTLE appeals, but this is your typical please the masses combo. There's cream of chicken soup (is this a funeral?), duck a l'orange (is it 1970?), bacon and cabbage croquettes (sure we've got to have some Oirish stuff on there, we're basically in Temple Bar), and very little to get your heart rate up.

Those croquettes (an appetiser at €9.50) are actually pretty decent, tasting distinctly of your Mammy's bacon and cabbage, with a very soft white sauce barely holding it all together. If you didn't like her version though you probably won't like these either.

Another appetiser of shiitake mushrooms in salt and vinegar tempura (€10) was lacking both advertised flavours, but the batter was crisp and grease free. Bizarrely there were unadvertised spears of broccoli in there too - shiitakes too expensive? Chilli mayo on the side delivered a good punch of flavour, but it wasn't what was billed.

For starters your eye can't help but be drawn to the 'Díon vol-au-vent', clearly their signature dish, given centre stage in its own box in the middle of the menu. Luxury ingredients like truffled chicken, foie gras and ceps justify the €25 price point, but of course it wasn't available.

We slummed it with Lambay crab soldiers (an Instagrammer's dream at €16.50). The soliders arrived over-fried and lukewarm with the texture of cardboard, and if they'd ever come in contact with a Lambay crab we couldn't taste it - what a waste of a prime Irish crustacean. The béarnaise though was so perfect we would have eaten our napkins dipped in it, so we soldiered on.

The surprise starter smash was the deep-fried globe artichoke with sage, tomato and romesco sauce (which also happens to be vegan). Beautifully tender inside, gorgeously crisp outside, the sage and tomatoes, brought freshness, the romesco depth, smoke and cream. It's a killer dish, veggie or otherwise.

Díon are taking their life in their hands putting a double smash burger (€23.50) on the menu with all the competition around here, but those other guys can relax. These are not smashed patties (they were still pink inside, which in a non smash burger we would appreciate), and we're not sure how we felt about the large slice of tomato on top and the mound of iceberg underneath. Throw back to a sadder time in Dublin's burger history? It wasn't on a "cristal bun" either, looking like your average brioche. The main issue was the grease dripping from every side of it - so messy, with fat the dominant flavour and texture.

Chips arrived at room temperature and criminally under-salted. There was no salt or pepper on the table, so after we'd gotten out of our seat (for the 65th time) to flag down an overwhelmed server, then have her take most of five minutes to go and source salt, they were fully cold.

Duck a l'orange (€27.50) came plump and pink, with perfectly rendered fat, and crisp skin, but where's the orange? We were almost finished it before we remembered that part. A meaty jus would be more accurate. An endive tart came with half a caramelised bulb sitting on top of a rectangle of pastry, as if the two had been cooked separately and then assembled. Pleasant, but disjointed.

Sides of colcannon mash (so dry we almost choked on it and with such a skant amount of kale we thought we'd gotten the wrong dish) and tenderstem broccoli with crispy chilli (very, very spicy with no crisp to be seen) were €4.50 each and you'll need them as a lot of dishes come with zero sides, like the dry-aged fillet steak (€47.50), or the Iberico pork chop on the bone (€45).

We'd seen the tart tatin for two (€18) being carted around the restaurant, all eyes drawn to the large mound of apples heading for other tables. It's good, but not Mae good, with nicely burnished, tender apples crying out for more caramel. Again it seemed that the apples were cooked separately to the pastry with no fusion between the two - attempts to eat it just resulted in the apple chunks falling off.

We've never seen Gypsy tart on a menu here, and while the description of "salted caramel tart" isn't technically correct, the addition of salt to an overly sweet tart is always welcome. This is dessert perfection, the type you'd expect to end on in a London bistro where every plate has delivered on your largest food dreams - the pastry, the custard, the glossy top, the Chantilly on the side - may they never take it off the menu.

What about drinks?

The website's cocktail menu talks a big talk about "A modern Irish cocktail story, told from above", but when we asked for the menu we were told none of these special cocktails were available. "We just have classic cocktails". Like what? "All the classic cocktails." Panic, what's a classic cocktail. Can you give us some examples of what the bar can make? "All the classic cocktails." We gingerly asked for a spicy margarita, expecting a "request denied", but it was brought and it was very good.

The wine list looks like it's been designed by several different people. There's everything from supermarket brands, to natural wines, to bottles you'd only buy if you were showing off (€2000+), and there's no cohesion in any of it. You'll struggle to find anything of interest by the glass under €16/17, with the rare (and welcome) exception of Cantina Tollo's Montepulciano, a brilliant house red at €9 a glass. Anyone serving Moët as their house Champagne in 2025 needs to take a long hard look at themselves.

How was the service?

What service? After our appetisers and starters were delivered (together) we were left completely alone, to the point that we started to wonder if this magical room had imbued us with the super power to become invisible. No one came to check how the food was, to take away our empty glasses, to ask if we wanted more drinks, to clear our plates, to bring fresh cutlery. After a good 30 minutes of sitting like icebergs, we started to think that surely the mains were going to arrive any second, so got up and found a server from another section, apologetically explaining that our server had disappeared. "Oh I think everyone's gone on their break"...

Our disappearing server hadn't know what the fish of the day was, how it was cooked, what price it was, what sizes the sole (priced per 100g) was available in. After a five minute delay each time when he went off to check, we gave up asking questions. Our flustered rescue server admitted that they weren't ready to open, and that the night before had been "carnage", with many, many unhappy customers. Our experience was mild in comparison apparently. Lucky us.

There's also an agonising wait when the back waiter brings up your food on a large tray and places it on a service table in view, and you have to watch your food lose heat while they wait for a front waiter to bring it to you. More than a few times we were close to jumping up and grabbing the plates ourselves.

Why anyone would put people on the floor with such inadequate training, who don't even know what's on the menu, and who are willing to walk off on a break leaving diners deserted is a head-scratcher. Was it days away from going under if they didn't get the doors open? Didn't they realise the damage that initial carnage could do? Why not do a week long soft launch seeking diners' forgiveness while they fixed the floors, finished the paint job and trained their staff to an acceptable level?

How much was the bill?

€194.50 for enough food for three (but just two mains), three alcoholic drinks and two softs. You'll easily spend €100 a head here if going all in, and you could spend a lot more if you're looking at that grill section and the higher priced wine.

What's the verdict on Díon?

It's generally accepted that glamorous international imports like Gloria, The Hoxton and Hawksmoor are good for Dublin, but you still hear rumblings of "but why can't we do these things ourselves?", with a lack of investment generally blamed. Díon has had plenty of investment (estimates sit around €10 million), but lacks the expertise to get a new opening off the ground in a professional, (seemingly) faultless way like their international competitors. It's embarrassing that we can't do it as well as them, especially in a space that has the potential to be as iconic as this one. Imagine Gloria opening the restaurant while there was still building work going on; Hawksmoor letting staff loose on the floor who hadn't been properly trained; The Hoxton opening Cantina Valentina with their Peruvian cocktails and star dishes missing from the menu.

None of these guys would have risked it, no matter what time of year it was or how the bank balance looked, because they know you've only got one chance to make a first impression, and those first reviews (diner and critic) will sit on the first page of Google until the end of time. If you've got all the money sloshing around your pockets and are happy to drop some on a sub-par experience then go forth and enjoy those views, or just drop in for a drink, but otherwise we'd put this one on the long finger until the new year, when hopefully the online reviews will reflect that they've finally figured out what they're doing up there.