Forêt

Tell us about Forêt?

It's the new French bistro from Sandy and John Wyer in the upstairs room formerly home to The Sussex gastropub, which quietly closed a few months ago. The couple opened Forest Avenue next door on Sussex Terrace in 2013, and the more wine bar leaning Forest & Marcy around the corner three years later.

The past decade has seen some chopping, changing, moving and closing, with Forest Avenue at one point moving into the old Forest & Marcy space after it closed, and the original turning into "Forest Avenue Wine Bar", but eventually it moved back to its first home.

(Forest Avenue)

The Wyers are also behind bakery Una in Ranelagh, which opened earlier this year, and became an instant queue generator, with their bacon jam escargot, pain au chocolates promising 50% more chocolate, and quiches the size of a baby's head.

(Una Bakery)

They don't put many feet wrong when it comes to food, so when whispers started a month or two ago that their next adventure was going to be a fully fledged French bistro in the old Sussex site, the ooohs and aaahs were heard in every corner of the industry. It's one of Dublin's major culinary gaps, with nothing to rival Paris's or London's best - was Forêt going to be the change-maker?

What's the room like?

They've done remarkably little to the room, and yet it delivers all the French bistro vibes. Dark wood, green walls, an open fireplace, and wall-mounted metal sconces with exposed bulbs, give the room a warm, cosy feel, that was especially lovely to step into on a baltic winter evening. There's nothing stuffy or uptight about Forêt - it gives the vibe of somewhere you could just as easily pop in for a glass of red and a terrine de campagne, as a multi-course French feast spanning a few hours. In an environment where more and more diners are being priced out of dinner, it all feels refreshingly accessible.

As you walk upstairs and through the door you're met with the bar on your right, and a few tables straight ahead to your left. A narrow corridor joining the front and back rooms has three high tables for two, with a bird's eye view into the kitchen and pass. The room at the back is the cosiest though, and one you might have to be surgically removed from later. The leather seats, the low lights, the candles, the gentle hum of people having a lovely time - you might find your two hour dinner slot insufficient.

A drink while deciding?

There's a nice opening menu of aperitifs, cocktails, beer, cider, sparkling wine and non-alcoholic options, all designed to make you part with your cash while browsing the menu, and why not. As far as fizz, Albert Mann's Cremant d'Alsace (€17 a glass) is an good an opening gambit as we've had in a while, and not at Champagne's break the budget prices either.

What's the menu like?

Here's where the problems start. Have a good long look at the menu before coming in because you're going to want it all. There are eight snacks before you even get to starters, and if you have the willpower to skip them, well you need to live a bit more. In an effort to try as much as possible we kept it to one main, and then suitably over-ordered to make up for it with four petites assiettes, three entrées, and two desserts. Here's what we (happily) over ate...

The order...

Egg mayonaise with celeriac rémoulade - You'll find oeuf mayonnaise on nearly every bistro menu in Paris, but what's usually a basic boiled egg with homemade mayo has been given the John Wyer treatment. A half soft boiled egg comes tossed in and on top of a gribiche-like sauce, snowed under with crispy breadcrumbs and chives. Sometimes the old ways aren't always the best.

Fish cake with sauce ravigot - A perfect square of breaded, deep-fried fish sitting in a puddle of sauce ravigote, which is like a mayonnaise without eggs. Instead Dijon mustard, white wine vinegar and other additions like capers, shallots and herbs make a beautifully acidic, creamy accompaniment.

Leeks vinaigrette - This is not a classic leeks vinaigrette, it's basically the egg mayonnaise dish but with leeks instead of egg. Very delicious, the leeks not remotely stringy, but not the usual preparation.

White anchovy, ratte potato, fresh cheese - A beautiful combination of ingredients, perfectly prepared and balanced, that will have all of your taste receptors firing.

Rillettes of trout, cucumber, horseradish - A delicate, dill-laced dish (albeit not a looker on the fish side thanks to gelatine), with crunchy vegetables, horseradish yoghurt, and that Forest Avenue sourdough bring every conceivable texture to the plate - so lovely to eat.

Chicken liver parfait with fig chutney - We nearly didn't order this because once you've had 100 chicken liver parfaits, can any really stop you in your tracks? It turns out the answer is yes. This is knock you down good, so silky, so richly flavoured, the toasted, buttered sourdough and fig jam such incredible bedfellows you might have to muffle your moans.

Steak tartare - Missing the bright red colour of a made to order steak tartare, the meat having more of a grey tinge, presumably due to an earlier preparation. This was all forgotten however from the first bite, and we're still mentally retasting it trying to work out exactly what combination of cornichons, capers, egg yolk, shallots, chives, mustard, Worcestershire sauce (?) is in there. Top of the class.

Chicken au Vin Jaune with riz à la paysanne - Forêt: making chicken cool again since 2024. A wow way to serve the often all too boring bird. That juicy flesh, that shatteringly crisp skin, the depth of flavour in that Vin Jaune (a nutty, oxidative wine from the Jura) sauce with cream, morels and chunks of wild mushrooms. Spell-bindingly good.

Recipes for riz à la paysanne don't seem to exist outside of a couple of old French cookbooks, and you won't find one on Google. We gather the rice is cooked with bacon, onion and tarragon pilaf-style, and the fragrant end result is served with more tender chunks of chicken on top.

Croissant pudding, Calvados ice-cream, custard - Can it get better? Yes it can, with the pudding made from Una's leftover croissants. So chewy, so caramelised, even when sitting in custard with soft, melting ice-cream on top. A modern day miracle.

Warm chocolate mousse, vanilla ice-cream - A replica of the one from The Sportsman in Kent's cookbook, which later found its way onto the menu at Noble Rot in London (there with a milk sorbet). It was a divine ending in both of those places, and it is here too.

After all that we couldn't venture into cheese, but they're all French, and always will be - like it should be.

Tell us about the drinks?

The wine list is all French (we do love when they fully commit), with glasses ranging from €14 - €22 (or €34 for Champagne). There's no glass size specified but we hope it's a 175ml for those prices.

Bottle prices seem average for the city, with a good range of regions and styles, and we drank a silky, spicy Chénas (Beaujolais, made from the Gamay grape) from Anthony Thevenet (€58), which was light enough to work well with everything.

How's the service?

Very welcoming, warm and chatty, with dishes coming in twos at most so we were never overwhelmed. It was all just very relaxing, and while we had a two hour eating window we never felt rushed - it was midweek though, can't guarantee the same for peak weekend.

What was the damage?

€197 before tip for three snacks, three starters, a main, two desserts, a glass of Crémant, a bottle of Beaujolais, and a coffee to finish. If you're not as greedy and stick to two starters, two mains, a shared dessert and one of the least expensive wines you could have a very nice meal for closer to €130, which in today's market feels like exceptional value.

What's the verdict on Forêt?

How soon can we go back? With approximately zero dining low points we've now made it our mission to taste everything on this menu. There's nothing not to like about Forêt, from the food, to the room, to the prices, to the feeling of everything just coming together, and while it's definitely on the fine dining side of French bistro cooking (there's no slapped out slow-cooked stews, or redundant salad garnishes), we've got no complaints.