Menu - Riba

It was my birthday. Leinster had just triumphed in the rugby final, and we were riding high on the kind of euphoria normally reserved for national holidays and... read more It was my birthday. Leinster had just triumphed in the rugby final, and we were riding high on the kind of euphoria normally reserved for national holidays and new Top Gear episodes. Spirits were high. The rain was higher. It was absolutely lashing – the sort of weather where ducks are having a fantastic day and the rest of us are wondering if it’s time to start building an ark. Enter: Riba, Stillorgan. From the outside, it looks modest. Civilised. The kind of place you expect to serve nice olives and employ people who understand wine beyond red or white? But step inside, and it’s like being wrapped in a warm Italian hug. Friendly staff, not an ounce of fuss, and the smell of something delicious lurking in every corner. Now, the food. I started with the squid. Now squid is tricky. Do it wrong and you’re chewing on something that feels like it should be attached to a wetsuit. But here? Tender, delicate, properly seasoned the sort of dish that makes you think, “Yes. This is why we don’t just stay at home with a microwave lasagne.” Next came the Riba burger. Not some sad, over-smashed abomination on a plank of driftwood with a side of hipster shame. No. This was a burger. Thick, juicy, unapologetic. It required two hands, a sturdy jaw, and a deep sense of purpose. Absolutely magnificent. My son had a margherita pizza, which naturally required the ceremonial Dad Tax – a slice for inspection. And it passed. Base with just the right chew, a sauce that could make a grown man weep, and cheese that actually tasted of cheese. My uncle, who normally uses hot sauce like others use aftershave, went for the ’nduja meatballs – proper fiery, rich and meaty. I suspect he wanted to move in. Now, my mother’s coeliac. This usually results in a game of “guess which dish won’t make her ill”. But Riba? Not only did they cater for her, they nailed it. The risotto was velvety, fragrant, and entirely gluten-free without making a song and dance about it. To finish, cappuccinos, Irish coffees, and a gelato selection that looked like it had been assembled by someone with a PhD in indulgence. And yes, the birthday candle arrived. With a chorus. Possibly the cheesiest moment of the day – and I loved every second of it. In conclusion: Riba is one of those rare places where everything just works. Rain outside? Who cares. Rugby victory or not, the food alone could turn any day into a celebration. It’s unpretentious, deeply satisfying, and joyously Italian – the kind of restaurant that reminds you why we go out to eat in the first place. No score. No stars. Just go. Meal type: Dinner Food: 5 Service: 5 Atmosphere: 5

A neighbourhood gem! Food: 5 Service: 5 Atmosphere: 5 Meal type: Dinner Price per person: €100+ read more A neighbourhood gem! Food: 5 Service: 5 Atmosphere: 5 Meal type: Dinner Price per person: €100+