Dak @ Bar Anam

What’s the story with Dak?

1a Bolton Street hasn’t seen a bar last longer than a couple of years, since Dolly Fawcett ran a not-quite-a- brothel out of the address almost a hundred years ago. In the last two decades alone we’ve seen independent craft outlets Underdog and Beerhouse, Galway Bay Brewery efforts Paddle & Peel and Taco Libre, as well as Rúta, O’Byrne’s, and The Last Waterhole…

Sorry, since who ran a what now?

Look, that’s a whole other story, and one worth reading in full once you’re safely settled in her latest successor Bar Anam. The point is that you’d be wanting steel nerves or a proven track record to have a crack at this site given its history – just as well the owners of Liberties local Dudley’s have no shortage of both, with five years under their belt in what was once Baker’s Lounge.

Maybe it’s that heritage and the chance/threat of wayward Yanks straying beyond the bounds of Temple Bar that have kept Dudley’s menus squarely in a play-it-safe pub grub space that’s never thrilled us, but co-owner Rossa O’Reilly offering up the space at the back of Anam to his Korean fried chicken-crazed brother Kelan had us hoping Dak might be different.

How’s the bar out front?

At opening time on our first Friday visit, the light streaming through two walls’ worth of windows would nearly have you thinking you’re in a city where summer actually arrives. As an early afternoon crowd of solo sippers snuggled up with a book, yielded to increasingly loose-tied office hordes, whose third and final “just one more” eventually freed their seats, for a college-aged crowd in for DJ sets that take off on weekend nights, we got the sense of a space smartly set up to ride the waves of passing trade that have washed over this place’s prior inhabitants.

That’s the key to nailing an awkward corner of the city – giving curious customers who fall in the door a reason to stay, while building up a destination rep with over-and-above add-ons. The speaker setup, sending such throbbing bass down through the banquette we thought we'd parked on a massage chair, tells you enough about how seriously the music’s a part of that picture, but it’s a quick scan of the natural wine list that really perked us up.

You'd nearly spit-take in shock at some of the prices here – and waste a lot less money doing so than at most wine bars around town. We spotted several bottle and BTG options going for 8-22% (!) cheaper than places like Cellar 22, September and Etto. That alone makes this one of the most exciting new places to drink good wine in the city.

So can we order from Dak to the tables in Bar Anam?

We wish. Having to give up our prime seating to get fed struck a sad note, especially when emerging afterwards to find not a seat free – they’d have a hit on their hands if those office escapees could call in an order and stay put for a few more "one more"s afterwards. Dak's contained space has four tall two-tops and three low four-six seaters, allowing the kitchen to keep pace at this early stage - we can only hope it expands out in time. Walk-in waits are short at quieter times, but book ahead for peak hours – especially now word’s getting out.

What are we eating?

It’s not just slipping into a space that’s been the graveyard of many a publican’s dream that might look like a brave move here – Dak are slinging Korean fried chicken as if lunch counter White Rabbit up the street didn’t already have the local market locked down. In that sense the name, Korean for chicken is playfully direct – it would want to be good.

Reader, we’d marry it. We’ve got a lot of loving loyalty to White Rabbit, but many a fan will be tempted up this end of Capel Street with a competitor like this in the frame.

The first standout is the coverage - thick, syrupy sauces cling to the chicken’s crisp crags with a drip-free dedication we’d wager took no end of diligent test cooking to achieve. Up against their cheap and cheerful neighbour’s delish but often puddle-piled mounds, and Space Jaru’s drizzled yangnyum stacks, this comprehensive coating really stands out. Jaru using Ring’s Farm chicken is the one reason we’d have still said they have a slight edge, but since our visit we’ve learnt that Dak has pivoted to Feighcullen free-range birds. Consider our one caveat null and void.

Solo diners might sulk at how much better value the double (€26) is than the single (€16), but a dosirak platter (€25) that adds rice, banchan and a tteok skewer should soften that cough. This is a place made for sharing though – we doubled up with dakenjeong and garlic honey butter. Skip the first one in favour of the "classic red" if you’re spice-averse, but we wouldn’t wish missing these spicy-salty-sweet notes on anyone. Bear in mind the latter’s in-your-face allic tang will be revisiting you all evening - keeping yer mouth shut is a small price to pay.

Expect to see the elastic absurdity of the corn cheese (€6.50) all over Instagram, with a mozzarella pull that’s nothing short of silly, stringy fun. Dunk the drenched chicken and have at it – the dry-coated "Dak’s hot dust" fried chicken option would be especially good with this. If it’s a touch under-seasoned in its own right that’s only in anticipation of all the dipping to be done - get the kimchi pancake (€11) twist if a little added salty sharpness is non-negotiable.

We didn’t find anywhere near enough of it in the banchan (€6), with modest muted flavours ill-able to hold up against the assertive intensity of the chicken – balance is key, these just felt brushed aside. Spinach was the worst offender with distinctly more sog than spring, but the beansprouts and julienne daikon could stand to bring more than just crunch. Look to the pickled pink radish dished up with the chicken for how it should be done.

Jhol mandu (€12) feels a strange swerve as a sole Nepalese note on an all-Korean menu, and not one that did much to course-correct our sceptical first impression. There’s tangy, zesty life to spare in the chunky achar base, but this fleeting flash of chef’s favourite personality comes at the cost of a cross-continental detour that’s just a little jarring.

Anything for dessert?

Not yet anyway. The Dak team have teased sweet things to come, but there’s no sign yet.

Well, what about a digestif then?

Now you’re talking. Bar Anam’s wine might have caught our eye but it’s the cocktails (all €15) that got our hearts thumping. The mango and elderflower-spiked Bangkok is a signature spicy marg that takes on Fidelity’s premium specimen, while a cold brew and chai Oaxaca's deep smokiness from palo santo could give Bar 1661’s Belfast coffee a run for its money. Don’t miss them.

A rum-based Kingston’s pineapple and white port notes are like the cross-section of a white negroni and a Jungle Bird, and should land solidly for fans of either. Only in Athens are we on shakier ground, with this longform Mediterranean martini’s various vegetal flavours too busy to be anything but a completist’s curio.

How’s the service?

As tight-run but light-touch as you’d expect for a hospitality group in the making looking to hit the ground running. Table service prevails at quieter times with keen eyes swooping in to take orders at just the right moment – it’s hard not to hang around. Despite clearly sectioned schemes the two spaces feel seamless, with bar staff floating between to lend a helping hand to O’Reilly running the room solo. He has hospitality in his bones, with wide-eyed "I know right" excitement at every cheese pull, and a magician’s “ta-da” theatricality as he points out the concealed cutlery drawers tucked beneath the tables.

What’ll it cost us?

The dosirak’s €25 is smart pricing – you’d struggle to spend more than that a head for the food. All we ate, and bulging tummies with it, came to €45.50. Wash your KFC down with an Albert de Conti Pet-Nat and head back to the bar for a nightcap cocktail after and you’re talking the mother of all date nights with change from €50.

What’s the final verdict?

Many have come and gone on this corner of Capel Street since Dolly Fawcett’s day, but none have had the same staying power of her nod-and-wink trade. Between Bar Anam’s keenly-priced wines and the calibre of KFC Dak are slinging, we have here the best chance yet to break the curse. They may not be running a brothel back there, but it’s something worth whispering about.