Note

Why are you back to review Note for a second time?

Because there's a new chef in town, and it's created a whole new buzz about this wine bar and bistro near Merrion Square. Sam Kindillon has been gone from Ireland for the past 10 years, working at top restaurants in Copenhagen and Berlin, like Amass and Ora. He's the kind of Irish chef abroad we longingly look at through social media, hoping if we will it hard enough they'll eventually come home, bringing their globally-gained talents with them.

He started out here in Michelin-starred L’Ecrivain, training under Forest Avenue's John and Sandy Wyer, as well as owner/chef Derry Clarke, but time abroad has formed a strong ethos around collaborating with farms and food producers, and keeping things simple and seasonal - it's all sounding very Scandi. Since their original head chef Essa Fakhry, whose food we loved so much, left for college and cooking in London, things here have been changeable and reports mixed, but Note's owners say they're excited about "this next chapter".

What seats do we want?

Ours is always a window street, either looking out to people watch, or sitting back and scanning the room for what other people are eating/drinking/talking about. We're less keen on those tables that float in the middle of the room, and we struggled to get through them to get to the toilet a couple of times. There only seemed to be one viable path, with chairs splayed across others.

If you're eating alone, the bar is calling your name, or as a two top it's an easy option for a laid back bite, even if there's no kitchen to peer into. These are the seats you're most likely to stumble on if you chance your arm on a walk in.

So what's the new menu like?

It's original, that's for sure, without a croqueta, gilda or burrata in sight. Dishes they can honestly claim to be the only ones serving abound, with pork and prawn rosti, venison and coffee tartare, and cuttlefish cavatelli sticking out like a neon sign in a candlelit room. Be aware though that much of the "smaller" dishes are very substantial (with prices to match), so don't treat them like starters. The absolute best way to experience this menu is with a few people who are all happy to share (i.e. the only people to go to dinner with).

The "we don't do things like everyone else" statements start with the bread (€6) - instead of the ubiquitous sourdough, brown or brioche, Kindillon is bringing batch to the table, and we can't believe we hadn't seen this done elsewhere. So soft, so crusty, so very Dublin - you'll want a good inch of that salt rock butter on there.

We started as strong as it gets with the dish that's been stealing the headlines - a pork and prawn rosti, coated in grated potato before being fried, served in a furikake milk bun with spicy pickles and mayo made from boiled eggs (€18). This minor miracle has all the flavours of the best dumpling you've ever had in the guise of a texturally immense burger, and it's without doubt one of the best things you can eat in Dublin right now. It's also quite a feed (which it would want to be for €18), and we can't see many people being able to eat a whole one before going onto a main. If you're not sharing, this is your main.

We pulled it back with raw hamachi (€20) in a clementine sauce vierge, (usually made with olive oil, tomatoes, lemon juice and basil). Maybe it was the thickness of the fish, maybe the sauce, maybe it was what came before it, but no one at the table was jumping up and down for more. There are more invigorating crudo-style dishes on menus around town, like the wild seabass crudo with blood orange and rosemary at Lena, or the yellow fin tuna with blood orange and Japanese spinach at Forest Avenue, and we found ourselves pining for former chef Essa Fakhry's lime-juice and jalapeño spiked ceviches.

We went back into hefty territory with a fresh cheese (homemade) and leek borek, a giant slab of filled filo that again no one should consider as a starter before diving into a main. Even between four we worried we'd over done it. We'd love this for breakfast or lunch, but as a wine bar "small plate" it didn't fit. At €18 we're also deep into silly price territory.

We have an ongoing compulsion to order any tartare we see, and the pull is even stronger when there's Irish venison at stake. Who knew deer and coffee went so beautifully together, with earthy Jerusalem artichoke coming in as a cream below, and crisps on top (€22). Everyone loved their few bites of this, but agreed they wouldn't have wanted a whole one to themselves - those are some strong, salty flavours.

They have four larger plates (one a fish dish for sharing at €80), with a veggie option of hispi cabbage stuffed with chanterelle risotto, and cured egg yolk grated on top (€28). Order this. Even if you struggle to stray from proteins, just do it. Every flavour, texture, component and acidity level is judged so beautifully - it's up there with the rosti.

Same goes for the cavatelli pasta with cuttlefish, cockles, asparagus and monksbeard (€36). Forks clashed in the eating of this, diving in for the next bite of treasure, the rich, buttery sauce lifted by plenty of lemon, while we somehow convinced ourselves seafood = light.

Winetavern pork from Wicklow (€34) is cooked pink (if you want it more well done we're sure they'll begrudgingly oblige), and is a different animal to anything on the supermarket shelf - you will not need a hand saw to cut through it, a butter knife will do the job. A teeny triangle of pork belly with crackling is the hardest thing here to share, while the white turnips and whey mustard burst through with tingles of added flavour.

Beef tallow hand-cut fries (€8) arrived looking like they'd been cut from sweet potatoes (they're actually Ballymakenny Golden Wonders), and were easy to keep throwing back, but they softened as they cooled and we wouldn't have missed them if they weren't there.

We tried both desserts, passing on cheese, because who can be bothered paying over the odds for the same assembly we can do at home. A Nica Brown chocolate cake had buckwheat for added texture, and cultured cream to balance the cake's bitterness, but we can't say it left a lasting impression.

The other of blood orange portokalopita (a traditional Greek orange cake made with crumbled filo pastry instead of flour) was more of a standout ending, although there was an odd herbal note we couldn't place, and thought it would have been better without it.

What are the drinks like?

Cocktails have always been a reliable bet in here with five out of the ordinary options for €14 each. The wine list isn't short of interesting bottles, but you'll need plenty of cash to delve in - they lean heavily toward the expensive, with very little at the good value end of the scale. We can't help feeling gutted that what was supposed to be a wine bar enabling those of us who like the finer things in life to drink them at less painful prices, has gone to the other extreme of the scale, and there are scant options under €50, with prices rising very steeply from then on.

We drank a sparkling, dry moscato, Mòz, from Italian winery Costadila, but €78 hurt for a relatively simple, very natural fizz. The only other option for a less expensive sparkling was a natural prosecco, or the low alcohol, sweet French sparkling "Cerdon" from Renardat Fache, which is more suited to dessert. Champagnes start at just under €100 for Gobillard, and a good crémant/Penedès/Lambrusco under €70 is badly missing.

The first white wine we ordered wasn't available, and staff happily brought tastes of anything open while we tried to decide on another, but we found the selection under €80 uninspiring so choosing was difficult. We eventually settled on a Rousette de Savoie from Bruno Lupin (€64), which we were confidently told is made from Chardonnay. It is not, but it was pleasant with honeyed pear and peach flavours, if not something we'll be racing to the shops to buy again.

At the end we tried to order one each of the two dessert wines on the menu, before being told that one was out of stock and there was no substitute - two out of five wines we tried to order being unavailable aren't great odds. So it was two glasses of sparkling moscato, while we thought about how much better the Sauternes would have been with the blood orange portakalopita.

How was the service?

Note's new GM is a face many customers will be familiar with. Neil Kenna is the charismatic barman on First Dates Ireland, and is one of Dublin's longest-standing hospitality heads. He's managed Ely, The Old Spot, The Dunmore, Luna and loads more, and it's a bit of a coup by Note to draw him to Fenian Street. He's warm and charming, and must be sick of customers saying "are you the guy from the TV?", but he handles it all with a joke and a smile.

Our main server was very pleasant and capable too, but other staff looked lost at times, and requests for more water, a drinks list, the bill went untended to until we flagged down someone else and asked again.

What did the bill come to?

Just over €98 per person before tip, for 11 plates, two bottles of wine and two dessert wines between four. We were very well sated.

What's the verdict on this new iteration of Note?

In a sea of sameness, Sam Kindillon's food feels fresh and novel, having more in common with somewhere like Comet than your average Dublin wine bar. While we still think the menu needs honing and refining (the chef is only in the job a matter of weeks), there are enough glimpses of greatness, like that pork and prawn burger, and the chanterelle-stuffed hispi cabbage, to make us want to go back.

We'd love to see more wine variety at less nausea inducing prices, and would bet that would go some way to filing the few empty tables on the Friday night we visited, but everyone from couples, to giddy friend groups, to extended families (kids included) looked very happy with their pick and mix dish selections on the table. To get the best out of the new Note, go with a group, order it all, and fight over the last bites of your favourites.