Travel

An appetizer of venison tartare, mixed with mustard, flecked with red currants, and topped with sunchokes—some crispy, some pickled—is the best thing we’ve eaten this year. Mr. Fox, relatively new to Dublin, is down a flurry of steps on an unremarkable side of Parnell Square, a genteel spot that flirts with fine dining but doesn’t fully commit. A bread basket says a lot about a place, and this one, outfitted with homemade sourdough, Parmesan cream, and savory cep butter, does not disappoint. The fare is the wintry, heavy food Dubliners love to eat: beef cheek with buttery polenta and zesty gremolata, spelt risotto with pickled fennel and almonds. The desserts are playful, sophisticated interpretations of the ice creams from our youth—the iceberger, the super split.

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