Whitehorses Restaurant — Restaurant in The Municipal District of Dungarvan — Lismore

We turned up for our garden reservation last Sat at 6.30pm.

All tables were occupied, perhaps 30 people there.

We ordered our meal by 6.40pm. We were advised we had 90 minutes dining time.

My friend ordered the soup of the day. It was warm. It was ok.

My starter was breaded mussels. A plate of the tiniest, most bland mussels was delivered.

It wasn't cheap, €13. There were perhaps 12 mussels on the plate and if combined would have fitted on one desert spoon.

For mains, we had ordered a medium strip loin and a medium fillet steak.

At 7.40pm, the main courses hadnt yet arrived.

I pointed out to one of the owners that our 90 min would soon be up, 70 minutes were gone. Her reply was "oh we wouldn't do that to ye"

5minutes later, at 7.45pm, which was 75 minutes after we sat down, our mains arrived

The striploin was as ordered, my fillet was well done, not medium as ordered.

I ate about 1/3 of their hard offering, and pointed out the problem to a young waitress

"Oh I'm sorry sir, will I get the chef to cook you up a SMALL piece"

I declined that offer, i didn't want to be kept waiting watching my friend eat and god only knows how much longer it would have taken

We were there 85 minutes by now..

The main course wasn't finished. My fillet cost €33, and 2/3 wasnt eaten.

The deserts arrived and they were the token highlight of the meal.

The only efficiency was when another of the owners, the woman in the black skirt, arrived with the bill

2 starters, 2 mains, 2 deserts, no drinks, €93

Outrageous, and certainty not worth the colour of it

The service was very poor and only one of the 2 meals was acceptable

I live close by and have eaten here a few times.

Will I return, not for a long time

Unfortunately I cannot post photos of the mussels and fillet...

Veiled in a mystical February mist, Whitehorses held the promise of a hidden gem. Nestled in the ever charming Ardmore and shrouded in ethereal fog, the restaurant's exterior whispered of romantic dinners and culinary delights. Alas, the enchantment dissipated like morning mist upon entering.

Inside, the ambiance remained pleasant, albeit subdued. Flickering lights gave a somewhat homely feel, and the murmur of conversation offered a comforting warmth. But the magic truly ended there. The menu, while limited, raised expectations only to dash them upon arrival.

My "beef bourguignon," if one could call it that, arrived as a mournful ballad on a plate. The "bouillon" (generously calling it that) held all the depth of a puddle after a light drizzle. Slivers of "beef," more reminiscent of confetti than protein, played hide-and-seek within. Each bite was an exercise in beige monotony, a culinary shrug served on a china canvas.

The chicken Kiev was akin to the Emperor's new clothes – all pretence and no substance. Dressed in a soggy, once-golden cloak, it promised riches within, only to reveal a dry, flavorless wasteland. One searched desperately for the elusive "garlic butter," but alas, it had vanished like a culinary Houdini, leaving behind only disappointment. This wasn't a dish, it was a culinary illusion, a cruel trick on the senses in a restaurant striving for something more

One might argue that simplicity is a virtue, but here, it resembled culinary malpractice. The flavors, if present at all, were as timid as a mime trapped in a library. Even the rustic charm, initially appealing, felt like a cruel joke as hunger gnawed at my stomach, echoing the emptiness...

Upon entering the door we were greeted by an empty atmosphere as well as the most unpleasant woman to whom when we asked could we sit for a meal, responded; "we don't serve food until half 12", with a disgruntled look on her face, eyeing us up as clientele she despised. Despite this, the family and I returned at half 12 as the food had been raved about which had excited us a great deal.

However, upon our second arrival when we entered we were 'in-greeted' by the same woman. She insisted on us being sat at a table next to the door on a cold and miserable day that resulted in a dank feel landing upon your body everytime the door opened. We tried to sit at another table but no, we were told we had to sit at the table we were assigned. My nan politely asked could we move to the immediate table on our right, and all the woman could muster in a response was that of "sit where you want", in a gruff, unsatisfied tone, turning and walking away from us with a look of disgust as if we had just defacated on the floor. My two young cousins became deeply upset by the woman's behaviour, which led to them wanting to leave perhaps feeling both disheartened and embarrassed with their treatment.

The belittlement we received led to our departure to which in my personal belief and opinion seemed like their dream-come true since we darkened their very door. My Nan and I were enraged at the establishments mannerisms and treatment that we highly advise others to avoid the establishment or like us complain about the quality of service/treatment that have been layed upon you.

The behaviour, attitude and level of service employed by this woman can only lead to the White...