I’ve been a fan of Johnnie Cooke’s since a move back to Dublin from London in the 1990s coincided with the heyday of Cooke’s Cafe, which sat opposite Grogan’s on Castle Market. His Cal-Ital menu felt new and fresh in a Dublin still in thrall to the old-school places frequented by chaps with a fondness for long lunches washed down with a bottle or three of claret. Not that you couldn’t have a long lunch (and longer dinner, or perhaps even segue seamlessly from one to the other) at Cooke’s. Of course you could and, if you were around the city at the time, probably did. But the Cooke’s experience was more modern, the food lighter and the wine likely to be Italian rather than French.