Fade Street Tavern

What’s the story with Fade Street Tavern?

“That’s life,” Dylan McGrath told The Irish Times in 2018. “The world changes, the music stops, and you’re lucky if there’s a chair for you.” More than once in the near quarter-century the chef has spent at the fore of Dublin’s restaurant scene, he’s been caught without one. Call it resilience, stubbornness, or sheer force of will – he’s just stayed standing.

It’s been a bit of a wait for the music to start back up again this time. Where a whiplash pivot from crash-shuttered, Michelin-starred Mint quickly produced more downmarket success with Rustic Stone in 2010 and the first outing of Fade Street Social in 2012, the post-covid crunch has gradually ground the empire to a halt. After an effort to ride Celtic Tiger 2.0 with Shelbourne Social proved as ill-advised as Richard Corrigan’s subsequent crack at the same site, doors started to close as quickly as they once opened.

But Fade Street’s is still swinging on the hinges, with McGrath’s name over it – if no longer on the letterhead. Sold off to Eclective, the artist formerly known as Press Up, the D2 institution has kept the core of its legacy leading recipe development, while looking to shake things up once again.

So what’s the pivot this time?

Stroll a few minutes in any direction from the door and you’ll see the same answer that a room-reader like McGrath can’t have avoided on his walk in to work. Curving queues snake down side streets, choke alleyways, pack pavements up and down the Georgian core - people just can’t get enough pizza.

As the seasons shift, and those cold and wet weekends return, what better way to lure some of those punters away with the promise of a roof over their head, and (count ‘em) three distinct styles of pie.

Sceptical?

We might have been. Another short stroll from Fade Street will take you past the graffitied hoarding of long-promised Little Slice, another impending arrival looking to elbow in on the packed pizza market, but maybe we were nuts. Cos just taste these nuts. Beer nuts (€4.95) aren't often our first port of call, but as a statement of intent for a Chicago-style tavern they matter. An nduja dust coating has a sweetened sharp spice, with complexity from rosemary’s herbal hit and the savoury depth of roasted yeast. It's the texture that taunts us though, and we practically beg staff to share how half the almonds and cashews chew like currants. They’ve been boiled then caramelised, they reveal excitedly. Shut us up.

Deep-fried lasagna (€10) takes it right to the competition. Mani’s fritti has carved a niche as firm street food favourite - Fade Street sees it, and raises it. Braised beef cheek is key, alongside the sea of San Marzano it slips out into. There’s a lot more there than three crisp cubes can cup, so praise be for focaccia (€6.95).

Whole honey roast cloves of garlic hidden in the delicate dough mean there’s no real need to double-dip into the herb-heavy parsley garlic butter – salvage the aged parmesan and have at the lasagna’s leftover spiced sauce instead.

Or sod it all and skip straight to the pizza - you’ll need the stomach space. A first cynical sight of the menu might make you think three styles is a catch-all cash-in on what’s popular around town, but there’s more than novelty on offer.

Make straight for a 14” bar pie for the best case-in-point.  A polar opposite to the deep-dish cousin whose shadow it’s largely lived in, this Chicago stalwart is all ultra-thin cracker crust, a curiosity McGrath and co have mastered via a roasted malt dough. As the square-sliced shards yield with a brittle crack, it’s clear this is no bandwagon hopping – this nutty flavour is in a league of its own. The umami depth of wild mushrooms in scattered whole and buried duxelles form gives the fungi (€17.95) a complex counter to the bianca base’s oozing excess.

That roasted malt is a revelation that rewards not overloading it – marinara or plain cheese would be good choices to let its distinct character sing. The latter topping felt a little lost on the square grandma pie (€30), a far airier crust swallowing the (four types of!) mild dairy whole. Pizza, as any restaurant offering three styles makes clear, is a matter of taste, and ours tends to thinner unless there’s real justification. Doom’s Detroit-style and its caramelised cheese edges are a rare exception. Here, salt-flecked browned bubbles don’t bring enough crusty character to make the dough-to-topping ratio do it for us. If you like it thickk, you’re likely to love it.

If you like it loaded, come to Daddy (€38). This 18” New York-style sharer is a signature in the making, sat squarely in Bambino’s wheelhouse and at a price point that’s keenly competitive with their whole pies – for a sit-in setup especially. It’s pitched at two but you’ll happily feed double if adding starters and sides. Creamy stracciatella softens the spice layers of a signature tequila sauce dotted with nduja and pepperoni, all lifted by sour-sweet balsamic and herbal EVOO. But again: the crust. The roast malt is back here buffeted by rye, adding lively acidity and chew under the crisped edges. There’s a real confidence in offering one option only on this part of the menu, and it’s earned.

This dough’s so good we’d down it dry, but you’d never forgive us skipping the dip. Spicy ranch (€3) is a solid crowd-pleaser, cautiously pitched to keep the more sensitive palates onside – nobody will be gasping for more water. Confit garlic and herb (€3) has better balance than the pat plopped alongside the focaccia, and works a dream with the grandma’s thicker tufts. If you’re sticking to bar pies, you won’t need to bother.

Sides aren’t something you’ll be in need of either – but when have we ever said no to Ballymakenny spuds (€6.50)? The craggy edges are every bit the match of Kicky’s and Borgo’s best in class, the sharp saltiness of ricotta salata caught in their crevices a mouth-puckering treat. We were less taken with the regular ricotta tucked underneath, less infused with garlic per the menu than plain inundated – as your breath soon will be. It’s a little much.

An affogato (€9.50) is essential to wake up after all that, not to mention great value – the stracciatella soft serve alone is only 50c cheaper, making this double espresso about the cheapest coffee in town. The ice-cold cheese stands firm to the steaming stream; alternating leftover sips with spiked creamy spoonfuls is a real finishing treat.

Fade Street’s focus on quality produce practically bleats from the pizza, but spare space for the mousse (€9.50) for an extra clear case. Aged white balsamic drizzled over the cloud of whipped dark chocolate takes this to a level even over and above Reggie’s EVOO-drenched take. A caramelised orange peel and pistachio crumb’s crunch is in like a chaperone, lest things get a little too sultry.

There’s less danger of that with the tiramisu (€10), a rock-solid showing with a little less flair. Brioche is a welcome way to lighten the load, though we couldn’t detect much marsala within these well-ratioed layers.

What should we drink?

A smart cocktail collab with Bar 1661 is the most immediately eye-catching thing about the menu in here, but don’t sleep on the organic and biodynamic-centric wine list either. Like the food, it’s made for sharing – every last option going by the glass, carafe or bottle is a very nice touch. Lambrusco with pizza is one of the great Italian IYKYK pairings (Boco, Bar Italia and Borgo are some of the only others around town on the train), and the Quercioli Rosato (€9.50) went down a wonder with our opening bites.

Chipotle’s smoky depths played well off Don Julio in the spicy marg (€15), though the spice skews softer than we’d usually like – there’s a sense they’re playing it safe. We found more to mull over in a sherry-spiked whiskey sour (€15), with stone fruit notes underlining the sweetness of a Bulleit bourbon and Roe & Co blend.

How was the service?

As tight as it could have been. New concept or not, this is a room that’s seen plenty of action over the years. McGrath’s brother Billy is on-hand to oversee operations on the floor, with the main man himself appearing every now and then to lend a hand wherever it’s needed – this ship sails as smooth as ever. Speed of service never translates to a sense of rushing through things though - we spied several celebrating groups left to linger as long as they liked.

Is it a pricey night out?

It needn’t be. Bar pies clock in about the price you’d pay for plenty of smaller 12-inchers in the vicinity, and with far higher-spec toppings on them to boot – if you’re not starving you’d share one with starter or side. Gather a group of four to dip your toes in every part of the menu and you’ll still keep clear of the €50 mark with a good drink each. That’s no bad price to pay for a night spent shouting down each other’s opinions on which makes the best base.

What’s the final verdict on Fade Street Tavern?

From turning our nose up at yet another pizza place to going crackers for a crust you can’t get anywhere else, this smart pivot shows necessity’s the mother alright. As the days darken and a snug seat seems much more appealing than queuing in the rain, this Fade Street setup has not only the variety to lure people in, but the goods to bring them back. In doing things differently, Dylan McGrath has found another chair again. It’ll be the first of many pulled up here.