Most of my trips to The Unicorn began with a tactical trawl starting at the office door on Fitzwilliam Square. It was a Friday ritual: work done, papers shuffled, and off to Doheny & Nesbitt, where my chum Emer, with her preternatural ability to commandeer prime bar stools, would already be perched, drink in hand.
From there, it was on to The Shelbourne, where the Horseshoe Bar crowd spilled into the lobby, before the night inevitably required soakage. The Unicorn was the answer. A call to the indomitable owner, Giorgio Casari, to say we’d be late was always met with a jovial, “No worries, I’ve already given your table away. Come in an hour.”
This was pre-Celtic Tiger, a simpler time, before I decamped to the UK for a few years, blissfully unaware of the economic juggernaut about to turn Dublin into a parody of itself. When I returned in 2000, the city had evolved beyond recognition, and The Unicorn was at the centre of the Champagne-swilling “golden mile” of restaurants along Merrion Row. Then came the inevitable crash, and since 2021, the premises have languished, accompanied by speculation about redevelopment into something more profitable.
Chef and restaurateur Kristan Burness, who briefly ran the restaurant as The Unicorn by Fiorentina, has returned. A bit of sprucing was in order, but the old place still carries its trademark charm. Now, with a fresh lick of paint and crisp white linen, he’s thrown open the doors, hoping the faithful will come galloping back.
Pig’s trotters laced with foie gras on the online menu certainly piqued my interest, but when we arrive – Wednesday, a week post-launch – they are conspicuously absent from the skeletal offering of three starters, three pastas, three mains and three desserts. A soft launch masquerading as a full-throttle reopening. The paltry wine list wouldn’t even make the cutting-room floor of The Unicorn’s original glory days. The Nero d’Avola has not yet landed, so we settle for a bottle of Villa Cornaro Montepulciano (€34).
Prices are, as expected, on the ambitious side. Take the scallops: three dainty queen scallops, €25, served with a smear of apple purée and a scattering of Hugh Maguire’s black pudding. Cooked nicely, yes, but they’re gone before you’ve had time to admire the plating. This isn’t a starter; it’s a barely-there option for someone avoiding carbs.
The carpaccio (€18) is a stronger contender. A generous plate of thinly sliced, dry-aged beef delivers on flavour, paired with fennel, rocket, small dollops of blue cheese and a whisper of lemon virgin oil. The Ligurian zuppa di pesce (€34), however, is a disaster. A hulking bruschetta doorstop does most of the work making the plate look full, while the promised bounty of red mullet, hake, razor clams, and mussels is reduced to a few clams, some mussels, and what appeared to be uninspiring pieces of farmed sea bass. Potatoes pad out the rest. The hand-made garganelli pasta (€27), cooked al dente with rabbit, squash, and Tuscan white stew, is far more satisfying and holds its own.
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For dessert, the Amalfi lemon tart – sharp, zesty and structurally sound, with an impressive brûlée on top – it leaves me briefly wondering if it has been bought in (it hasn’t; someone in the kitchen knows their pastry). The tiramisu is enjoyable but could use more coffee-soaked ladyfingers at the bottom of the Martini glass, as the thick layer of mascarpone cream feels slightly disproportionate. At €10.50 each, the tart is unquestionably the better choice.
Teething problems are inevitable. But why should the punter be the one bankrolling the dress rehearsal? My expectations were managed from the start – after all, the food at The Unicorn was never the draw. It was about the people in the room and Casari’s flair for turning it into a living, breathing Dublin salon, thick with gossip and glamour. The knowing nod, the perfectly timed seating at just the right table, even if you arrived late – that was the true magic.
The real question is: does the reboot work? Well, sort of. Burness and his team have captured something of The Unicorn’s former grandeur. But the problem with nostalgia is that it always feels slightly stale, no matter how shiny the floor. The spirit of the old Unicorn is there, lurking behind the bar and eyeing the gilded mirror, but the dazzle? It’s not so much a rebirth as a slightly hesitant return.
Dinner for two with a bottle of wine was €159.
The verdict Missing the magic of its heyday.
Food provenance Wrights of Marino, Coyle Meats, Manor Farm free-range chicken, La Rousse and Keelings.
Vegetarian options Limited – burrata for starters and risotto con funghi e tartufo.
Wheelchair access No accessible room or toilet.
Music In the background.
