So, I may have bitten off more than I can chew. (And I can certainly chew my share, as evidenced by the images and specifics of the exceptional dining and drinking establishments we've encountered on our travels.)
However, as regards the time required to travel to all the visit-worthy villages and vistas (and breweries and distilleries) - and then the time required to write about it - well, I’ve fallen behind. As such, I intend to spend a chunk of time over the next couple of days hunkered down in our room at the Brewdog Kennels in Aberdeen, Scotland, and our AirBnB in Edinburgh to get caught up. Which means, I hope, three posts: one for our final two days in Ireland, primarily Dublin; then covering our flight to London and the 3-day jaunt via Oxford, Ludlow, Liverpool, and the Lake District’s Keswick, to arrive in Glasgow. The third post will detail our early adventures in the amazing kingdom of Scotland, our several distillery visits, battling the 100mph winds of storm Floris, and some heritage roots hunting in the heart of Speyside.
We hope you’ll enjoy them.
Dublin
After settling in that late Saturday afternoon, a bit weary from our 4-hour drive after touring the Jameson Midleton Distillery in Cork, we struck out on our recon walk, venturing south across the river and into the Temple Bar district. Heeding the warnings of many, we merely poked our heads into the eponymous pub itself, and found it to be exactly as forewarned: elbow to elbow dense with local howlers, punchdrunk uni students, and several bridesmaid parties. The excess spilled out into the cobbled streets, crudely corralled by ill-defined stanchions, though a stoic troop of uniformed police overwatched from a distance, stepping in when necessary to reorient the masses.
After settling in that late Saturday afternoon, a bit weary from our 4-hour drive after touring the Jameson Midleton Distillery in Cork, we struck out on our recon walk, venturing south across the river and into the Temple Bar district. Heeding the warnings of many, we merely poked our heads into the eponymous pub itself, and found it to be exactly as forewarned: elbow to elbow dense with local howlers, punchdrunk uni students, and several bridesmaid parties. The excess spilled out into the cobbled streets, crudely corralled by ill-defined stanchions, though a stoic troop of uniformed police overwatched from distance, stepping in when necessary to reorient the masses.
And from there we wandered, first west to the Porterhouse Temple Bar, where we grabbed a quick bite of excellent fish ‘n’ chips, then south and east toward St. Stephen’s Green. We look-saw The Quays, John Keogh’s, the Hairy Lemon, and finally O’Donaghue’s, an old school pub with live local music every night, and original haunt of the epic Irish folkband, the Dubliners. If interested, you can read about that here. We returned there the following night for music.
The next day meant returning our rental car to the Dublin Airport, then returning the six miles by foot along Swords Road and Drumcondra, dodging the occasional rainbursts by slipping into coffee shops along the route. Enlightenment struck us as we neared Croke Park and waded through some of the same green-and-gold garbed fan crowds we did the night before in Temple Bar, now here at Croke Park for the Gaelic Football All-Ireland Championship, featuring the clubs from Counties Kerry and Donegal. Gaelic is a cool cross-breed of soccer, rugby, and Aussie rules football, and there’s no sport bigger in the country of Ireland. And this was their equivalent of the NFL’s Super Bowl. We watched the match from the Piper’s Corner pub across the street from the Moxy, spur-of-the-moment Kerry loyalists, based on the sentiments of the bar’s patrons.
After freshening up we crossed the river and snagged bar seats at O’Donaghue’s for an hour of cask ales and live music. The tunes began with three guitars, joined after a short while by long-necked mandolin and spoons. The walls of the playing nook are thickly adorned with artwork and photos remembering the Dubliners and its dozen former members.
Dinner that night was Fade Street Social, a popular multi-leveled restaurant, rain showers ushering rooftop diners inside. Glasses of NZ Sauvignon Blanc quenched a quick snack of smoked almonds and curry-spiced lamb samosas with yogurt, cucumber and mint dip. We followed that with a heritage tomato salad topped with whipped goats cheese, croutons, pickled shallots, basil emulsion and lemon dressing, then split two entrees: roasted corn fed chicken breast with braised lettuce, glazed spring peas, roasted mushroom, chervil, tarragon and shaved Parmesan (photo below); and grilled seabream and baby zucchini courgettes with romesco sauce, green olives, roasted artichoke, cherry tomatoes and coriander. And believe it or not, there was still room for chocolate & coffee mousse with coffee ice cream, chocolate and toasted hazelnuts.
The next morning we walked the riverfront and chose Murphy’s Bistro for breakfast, an Irish cafe with an unexpected Turkish flair. Rich and thick Turkish coffee, then authentic menemen and a proper Turkish breakfast of eggs, cheeses, olives, cucumber, potatoes and toast.
Our hearty breakfast provided us the fuel we needed to walk to the Guinness Storehouse for our scheduled tour. We were told that everyone should do the tour once, and we tend to agree with that. Unlike our fascinating tour of the Jameson Midleton distillery, this "experience" leaned heavily on the “show”. Think Las Vegas meets Disneyland. We followed all the arrows and floor graphics through the stages of the brewing process with artificially wind-blown barley stalks, a cascading waterfall, and various depictions of fermenting yeast. Most impressive to me was the stunning exposed structure architecture of the place, but also the brief story of barrel cooperage and the sepia-toned photos of the astonishing mountains of whiskey casks in the Guinness storage yards. And of course, the 360º view from the Gravity Bar on the Storehouse's 7th floor. And the mechanical fish riding the bicycle. Can't forget that.
Yes, happy for the visit. Don’t need to do it again. Like the time my friend Thumb Knuckle Chuck convinced me to try Jeppson's Malört. Yeah, those who know know.
But then came an awesome treat: tickets to Trinity College and the exhibit of the Book of Kells. For those who don’t know the significance, the Book of Kells is “a lavishly decorated manuscript of the four Gospels of the New Testament, created in the late 8th or early 9th century. It is renowned for its intricate and vibrant illustrations, making it a masterpiece of medieval art.” The exhibit is attractively constructed with a comfortable balance of text-heavy information chunks interspersed with gorgeous illustration. We perused our way through at a leisurely pace, fully recognizing the need for several more hours - or days - to absorb its full scope. The library itself and campus are equally impressive.
And I was thrilled to discover there "Brian Boru's harp", an early 15th century wire-strung cláirseach, one of the three oldest surviving medieval harps from the region. It was used as a model for both the coat of arms of Ireland and for the trademark of Guinness stout.
We finished the day with a fabulous meal at Jamie Oliver’s Chequer Lane restaurant. Brassy and a bit haute, but surprisingly comfortable. We again sat at the bar where an attentive crew catered to all of our needs, which frankly amounted to We hungry, Feed us. Hence, Chicken Vol au Vent puff pastry, with wild mushrooms, truffle sauce, and pea shoot salad; Sea Bass and prawn served with devil’s sauce and fresh spinach (photo below); and an Irish Summer Salad with charred chicken and bacon skewer, new potatoes, pickled beets, boiled eggs, herbs, and housemade salad cream. And a Warm Peach and Raspberry Crumble with vanilla ice cream to top it off.
And that was Dublin. As always, delicious food and drink, then add in the unique mix of Guinness Storehouse, Book of Kells, and the thrill of a Gaelic football championship victory, and we’ll call it a win.
That also finished our first trip to Ireland. Wow. We completely loved this Land of Saints and Scholars. So, glad we ventured up into Mayo and to Achill Island, though next time we'd schedule more time for the park at Connemara. And we did miss seeing the Cliffs of Moher. In the future, perhaps a visit to Belfast in the North, and maybe the Dingle Peninsula in the south. And Galway. There's always Galway.
Next stop, London’s Luton airport and a 3-day trip through the west of England.
We’ll be in touch.
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