When I first visited Ireland around 12 years ago, I was under the impression that I would land at the airport, head to the hostel and seek out a delicious authentic Irish stew and some offal dish, like steak and kidney pie. The first opportunity that my companion and I had to eat, we found a restaurant that offered the said “authentic” Irish stew. It was gross; a thin, weak broth covering fatty and tough bits of beef with minimal vegetables. If something that should be flavorful and thick, filling and fragrant was so repulsive, I couldn’t imagine what a steak and kidney pie would taste like. I made the quick decision to avoid it.
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| This doesn't represent what the bad Irish stew looked like |
After a bad meal in what we discovered to be a tourist trap, we asked our front desk clerk at our hostel for suggestions. Our clerk apologized for the unsatisfying meal and gave us leads for better places to eat. With those tips, we found that Irish food was good and tasty. Irish chefs have a great craft and work very hard to make fantastic meals. Outside of the traditional fare, Ireland also offered us great options in Italian, French, California, Mongolian and more.
Now reminiscing before my return to Ireland, I’m looking forward to sampling three favorite Irish treats: brown bread ice cream, chips and curry, and Guinness.
Schooled on the local tourist traps, our hotel clerk encouraged us to go to Temple Bar, Dublin's cultural quarter. The area has preserved its medieval street pattern including many narrow cobblestone streets. Wondering though, we found a charming yellow building that houses the Oliver St. John Gogarty Bar & Restaurant. There is where I came across brown bread ice cream; the thick egg-laced vanilla ice cream blended with brown bread caramelized in butter and brown sugar. The custard-like constancy pairs well with the nutty and sweet nuggets of the bread. It was so good that when I returned to Dublin from my trek around Ireland, I headed to Oliver St. John Gogarty to have a light meal and the great dessert again.
Drinking was our night time activity, but in moderation. Yet, several late nights ended up with us looking for chips and curry. I joked that chips and curry serves the Irish like a cheesesteaks serve Philadelphians after a good night out at the bars. The best chips and curry are thin cut fries, fried in peanut oil usually, that are crispy outside and tender on the inside. The soft potato inside sops up the rich curry sauce, a warm pungent gravy with hints of heat from chilis and black pepper, smoke from cumin, floral notes from coriander and cardamom, and sweet flavors of cinnamon and clove that reach over the lightly salty and savory base. There were enough Pakistani and Indian shops that were open after midnight to feed our new craving, but we were lucky enough to discovery
Abrakebabra, Ireland’s Premier Fastfood Chain, early on in our trip. With our find, we could at least get a consistently well-favored curry for our fries. (Which by the way, we originally found after our first meal at Oliver St. John Gogarty after asking the security guard for chips and curry and following his directions of
guh doun t’uh shtreet, make uh luhft, t’en uh rauht, guh doun fuh’ uh bit’ an uht’s t’air.)
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| Guinness and Brown Bread (before crumbled into ice cream) |
Rounding out the troika is Guinness, the beer of Ireland (or at least Dublin… Don’t ask for one in Cork; that’s Beamish territory!) I can’t wait to get my hands on a pint of the world's most famous stout. I can imaging it now. I order my beer and wait for the bartender to properly pour my glass. The black brew with red tones is served to me in a pint glass and its creamy head forms by bubbles that seem to be floating downward. I bring the Guinness to my lips. The surprisingly light mouth feel in spite of the dark color washes over my palate and eludes to hints of malt, molasses, coffee, chocolate and burnt caramel with a dry, almost peaty aftertaste. After my first big sip, I relish the first shallow and place my pint down. I fill out my fantasy from my memories from my last trip and I spy the bar and take in the patrons’ actions and shake my head, since these young adults are ordering their favorite imported beer, Budweiser.
It's a shame that they waste their euros and calories on that. Oh, I never had an offal dish either.
Images, except where noted, are courtesy of
Wikipedia.
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