The wait is over. Ómós, the long anticipated restaurant and guesthouse from chef Cúán Greene, has finally opened its doors and it’s all anyone can talk about. Here’s why …
Set within the restored Victorian estate at Abbeyleix House in Co Laois, Ómós is much more than a restaurant with rooms. It’s a destination where the architecture, gardens, guesthouse and food all seem to tell the same story. The beautifully restored manor house sits at the heart of the property, surrounded by newly planted gardens and winding gravel paths, while the restaurant occupies a striking contemporary building just beyond. With its timber beams, stone floors and open kitchen, it feels more like a beautifully designed farmhouse than a traditional fine dining restaurant.
The guesthouse strikes the same balance between comfort and considered luxury. Bedrooms are calm and understated, with books left on bedside tables, Marvis toothpaste replacing generic amenities, and a pair of Birkenstocks in the cupboard for guests to slip on before exploring the grounds.
Even breakfast is served in a charming dining room that feels more like an elevated country café than a formal hotel restaurant, with large windows framing the outside.
That relaxed atmosphere continues into the restaurant. Diners can watch chefs quietly assembling and finishing each course in the open kitchen, but the this is no performance art; there’s nothing theatrical about it. If anything, watching them is almost meditative.
I visited for a preview lunch, where the tasting menu offered an early glimpse into Green’s cooking. It draws on exceptional Irish ingredients while borrowing techniques from further afield, resulting in food that feels contemporary without losing its roots.
It began with a tomato pie, draped with anchovy. Anchovies can easily dominate a dish, but here they added just enough savoury depth without overwhelming the sweetness of the tomato. Elsewhere, dry aged hamachi arrived with rhubarb dressing and magnolia condiment, while beautifully cooked line caught fish was paired with courgette sauce, sea buckthorn and kumquat kosho.
My surprise favourite was a snail dumpling that somehow managed to taste like old school garlic bread, in the very best possible way. It was nostalgic, comforting and completely unexpected.
The menu doesn’t feel like it’s trying too hard, which if honestly, refreshing. There were no unnecessary flourishes or elaborate garnishes, just thoughtful cooking that allowed exceptional ingredients to do most of the talking. Another standout dish that has become the talk of the town, was also one of the simplest. A perfectly steamed potato, topped with cultured butter so tangy it was almost cheesy. Cue generous scoops of salt. The potato itself tasted remarkably like the ones my dad used to grow at home, proof that even the most ambitious cooking needn’t be fanciful, and can still evoke something wonderfully familiar.
Perhaps the biggest compliment I can pay the menu is that it never jaded. Tasting menus can sometimes become an endurance test, but every course here felt purposeful and the portion sizes were perfectly judged . By the end of lunch, I was completely satisfied, but never uncomfortably full.
That’s probably the best way to describe Ómós as a whole. There are no grand gestures, just dozens of thoughtful ones. The outdoor sauna, books chosen by staff, the tube of Marvis toothpaste beside the basin, the calm rhythm of the open kitchen and the gardens that invite you to linger a little longer, everything feels carefully considered without ever feeling forced.
In an age when so many new openings have to compete, Ómós takes a gentler approach. It asks you to slow down and appreciate the details. After a few hours there, it felt like exactly the right pace; in fact, it should be available on prescription.
SEE MORE: A First Look Inside Ómós