Wild Shores and Gentle Folk
As we pulled our chairs to the table, the fine linen napkins were placed across our laps; candlelight reflected in the glasses and on the tableware; glamour and elegance were the standard. Our nostrils quivered as essences of promise filled the air. Welcome to Ireland!!
As we relaxed in Kilkenny and recounted the day’s sights, revisiting the most enjoyed, our dinner arrived: entrée being Dunmore East Crab topped with Iranian sevruga caviar resting on an avocado puree; a showstopper. Conversation did resume but after a lot of wow’s!! Grass so green it looked painted with undiluted oil paints, hues of every imagined shade. The main courses echoed local produce reared with love and fresh air: milk fed lamb, green pea and mint soufflé, shallot lyonnaise confit of lamb shoulder and potato with red wine jus or hand caught wild salmon, the last of the season, cooked to a soft pale pink at its centre. We went back to the grass; it really is lush and vivid, thick and luxurious. Desert a chocolate trio, boldly stated a country of comfort and wellbeing with a traditional yet contemporary culture and warm people. We surrendered to the food and gave up on the grass.
Another sun set, this time in County Cork and dinner at a pub in Kinsale by the sea, actually it was an inlet. The noise and merriment of Irish music lifts you with its rhythm and brings on a state of cheerfulness. Before you are aware your foot is tapping and your hands are clapping; your voice says more!! More!! A traditional dinner of Irish stew with potatoes completed the scene, welcoming you into the club of Ireland. Being a chatty folk, interest overcame shyness. Where are your from? Where are you going? Where have you been? My cousin Patrick lives in Australia, do you know him? The Ring of Kerry rated many a mention. No, we did not kiss the Blarney stone and Tipperary will have to be another time. References to the weather were a constant topic; any wonder the grass is so green. On the Atlantic coast we visited the Beara Peninsula, a peaceful place, a different beauty. Gone were the patchwork fields replaced by craggy outcrops, raw and rocky, grey and ash in colour. Jagged they jutted into the sea, like bony fingers seeking a hold. Mountains with their tops shrouded in a cottonwool veneer. Lonely houses at their base, tufted grasses fenced with stones to suggest ownership. Ivory colour lichen on the rocky foreshore toned with the arctic blue of the sea. We followed the foreshore where they met, along roads narrow, hedged and single laned, sharing the passage with grazing sheep, not the least bit curious of the traveller. Every next corner uncovered another mystery of this ageless land. Prehistoric gravesites, a wedge tomb dated back 4000 years, aligned to the natural contours of the landscape. Irish history is old with many layers and chapters.
As the sun set against the grey rain misted skies of Kenmare in the County Kerry, dinner was served: oysters, just hours old collected from their beds in the bays seen during our day’s journey. Mussels, we lost count at 60, poached lightly, their juices enjoyed with warm soda bread, a local staple made using a recipe unchanged since time began. We spoke of castles, rock top strongholds, battlements, monastic sites, fairytale abbeys by bubbling brooks and moats furnished with original heirlooms and complete with resident ghosts, a spooky reminder for visitors of a time long passed. Some castles are in town centres, constant beacons of medieval folklore right in their backyard. Not only are there ancient destinations, there are over 400 golf courses in Ireland, but with the weather it may take a few years to play them all. Unexpected was the number of magnificent white sand beaches which lay in wait to entice you. You can even surf, BYO wetsuit though.
The ring of the bell heralded dinner in the shadow of a ruined castle, a stately home built in 1840, in County Clare near the village of Doolin. We chatted of the day’s adventure, of waves crashing, the sun sinking beyond the windswept Cliffs of Moher, the silvery limestone karst ledges and pavements of the treeless Burren coming alive with wild flowers springing from the fractured crevices, watching the sun set against the Aran Islands offshore in the Atlantic Ocean. These experiences set the mood for dinner: seafood fresh from the ocean, delivered by crusty old fishermen and local cheeses like Tipperary’s Cashel blue, Ardrahan, Durrus and Gubbeen from Cork, all of which feature in Europe’s top restaurants. Food as varied as the countryside canvas. Breakfasts were also a treat. Imagine hot and warming porridge with whisky cream; the smell and taste were heavenly, not so the black pudding.
Twilight and the soft pink of sunset heralded drinks and dinner in County Galway in the village of Cashel. Another stately home complete with secret garden and an aromatic herb plot foretold of delights. Add a glass atrium, soft lights and 4 courses, garnished with herbs and spices from their own garden; it was a joy. One of the pleasures of travelling is to revisit the day’s memories; as we dined we reminisced. It was the season of growth as we journeyed north, the hedges which mark the way forward had become a carpet of colour, yellow daisies, orange bells, purple feather duster shaped buds and blackberries, ripe, sweet, plump and vivid black all shone as the clouds brought either sunshine or rain drops. We stopped and picked wild Blackberries, a simple pleasure, laughing as we wiped the juice from our lips.
There are many methods of travel in Ireland: car, campervan, motorbike, bicycle, barge, walking or horse drawn gypsy caravan for those with a free spirit and no timetable. There are many miles of walking tracks, some times called Green roads they are the old highways. Many unpaved roads were built during the Great Famine of 1840s as part of relief work; others date back thousands of years; lots of choices. Across Connemara there is a track the residents fear to travel after dark, The Bog Road. Local lore says it is haunted. We travelled part and didn’t see a soul.
The village of Leenane was our dinner destination; eerily desolate landscapes, rusty bogs, lonely black lakes and pale grey mountains, far from the madding crowds. A fishing lodge, where dinner was served in the style of the late 1800’s; a table set for 22 looked like it came from the pages of a guide for a boisterous medieval feast. It was a cheerful occasion with all the laughter and fun of sharing food and wine with new friends, complete with 5 dogs. Conversation turned to the unspoilt location of the vine covered lodge, actually a restored stately home which began life in the late 1800’s. Like a Shangri-La, it is sheltered at the base of a large hill in a little known valley, complete with salmon stream and hatchery and a “lough” at the front door. The still of night was so peaceful with hundreds of stars twinkling like lanterns overhead.
Our last dinner was in Dublin, a vibrant town, exciting and busy, offering all manner of interests: arts, culture, food, song and dance; and its all there!!
As we placed our napkins on the table and pushed our chairs back with a big sigh, we can honestly say whether its dinner, bed or breakfast or the getting to any or all of the above, Ireland is a delightful place.
Now where do I pay the bill???
As we relaxed in Kilkenny and recounted the day’s sights, revisiting the most enjoyed, our dinner arrived: entrée being Dunmore East Crab topped with Iranian sevruga caviar resting on an avocado puree; a showstopper. Conversation did resume but after a lot of wow’s!! Grass so green it looked painted with undiluted oil paints, hues of every imagined shade. The main courses echoed local produce reared with love and fresh air: milk fed lamb, green pea and mint soufflé, shallot lyonnaise confit of lamb shoulder and potato with red wine jus or hand caught wild salmon, the last of the season, cooked to a soft pale pink at its centre. We went back to the grass; it really is lush and vivid, thick and luxurious. Desert a chocolate trio, boldly stated a country of comfort and wellbeing with a traditional yet contemporary culture and warm people. We surrendered to the food and gave up on the grass.
Another sun set, this time in County Cork and dinner at a pub in Kinsale by the sea, actually it was an inlet. The noise and merriment of Irish music lifts you with its rhythm and brings on a state of cheerfulness. Before you are aware your foot is tapping and your hands are clapping; your voice says more!! More!! A traditional dinner of Irish stew with potatoes completed the scene, welcoming you into the club of Ireland. Being a chatty folk, interest overcame shyness. Where are your from? Where are you going? Where have you been? My cousin Patrick lives in Australia, do you know him? The Ring of Kerry rated many a mention. No, we did not kiss the Blarney stone and Tipperary will have to be another time. References to the weather were a constant topic; any wonder the grass is so green. On the Atlantic coast we visited the Beara Peninsula, a peaceful place, a different beauty. Gone were the patchwork fields replaced by craggy outcrops, raw and rocky, grey and ash in colour. Jagged they jutted into the sea, like bony fingers seeking a hold. Mountains with their tops shrouded in a cottonwool veneer. Lonely houses at their base, tufted grasses fenced with stones to suggest ownership. Ivory colour lichen on the rocky foreshore toned with the arctic blue of the sea. We followed the foreshore where they met, along roads narrow, hedged and single laned, sharing the passage with grazing sheep, not the least bit curious of the traveller. Every next corner uncovered another mystery of this ageless land. Prehistoric gravesites, a wedge tomb dated back 4000 years, aligned to the natural contours of the landscape. Irish history is old with many layers and chapters.
As the sun set against the grey rain misted skies of Kenmare in the County Kerry, dinner was served: oysters, just hours old collected from their beds in the bays seen during our day’s journey. Mussels, we lost count at 60, poached lightly, their juices enjoyed with warm soda bread, a local staple made using a recipe unchanged since time began. We spoke of castles, rock top strongholds, battlements, monastic sites, fairytale abbeys by bubbling brooks and moats furnished with original heirlooms and complete with resident ghosts, a spooky reminder for visitors of a time long passed. Some castles are in town centres, constant beacons of medieval folklore right in their backyard. Not only are there ancient destinations, there are over 400 golf courses in Ireland, but with the weather it may take a few years to play them all. Unexpected was the number of magnificent white sand beaches which lay in wait to entice you. You can even surf, BYO wetsuit though.
The ring of the bell heralded dinner in the shadow of a ruined castle, a stately home built in 1840, in County Clare near the village of Doolin. We chatted of the day’s adventure, of waves crashing, the sun sinking beyond the windswept Cliffs of Moher, the silvery limestone karst ledges and pavements of the treeless Burren coming alive with wild flowers springing from the fractured crevices, watching the sun set against the Aran Islands offshore in the Atlantic Ocean. These experiences set the mood for dinner: seafood fresh from the ocean, delivered by crusty old fishermen and local cheeses like Tipperary’s Cashel blue, Ardrahan, Durrus and Gubbeen from Cork, all of which feature in Europe’s top restaurants. Food as varied as the countryside canvas. Breakfasts were also a treat. Imagine hot and warming porridge with whisky cream; the smell and taste were heavenly, not so the black pudding.
Twilight and the soft pink of sunset heralded drinks and dinner in County Galway in the village of Cashel. Another stately home complete with secret garden and an aromatic herb plot foretold of delights. Add a glass atrium, soft lights and 4 courses, garnished with herbs and spices from their own garden; it was a joy. One of the pleasures of travelling is to revisit the day’s memories; as we dined we reminisced. It was the season of growth as we journeyed north, the hedges which mark the way forward had become a carpet of colour, yellow daisies, orange bells, purple feather duster shaped buds and blackberries, ripe, sweet, plump and vivid black all shone as the clouds brought either sunshine or rain drops. We stopped and picked wild Blackberries, a simple pleasure, laughing as we wiped the juice from our lips.
There are many methods of travel in Ireland: car, campervan, motorbike, bicycle, barge, walking or horse drawn gypsy caravan for those with a free spirit and no timetable. There are many miles of walking tracks, some times called Green roads they are the old highways. Many unpaved roads were built during the Great Famine of 1840s as part of relief work; others date back thousands of years; lots of choices. Across Connemara there is a track the residents fear to travel after dark, The Bog Road. Local lore says it is haunted. We travelled part and didn’t see a soul.
The village of Leenane was our dinner destination; eerily desolate landscapes, rusty bogs, lonely black lakes and pale grey mountains, far from the madding crowds. A fishing lodge, where dinner was served in the style of the late 1800’s; a table set for 22 looked like it came from the pages of a guide for a boisterous medieval feast. It was a cheerful occasion with all the laughter and fun of sharing food and wine with new friends, complete with 5 dogs. Conversation turned to the unspoilt location of the vine covered lodge, actually a restored stately home which began life in the late 1800’s. Like a Shangri-La, it is sheltered at the base of a large hill in a little known valley, complete with salmon stream and hatchery and a “lough” at the front door. The still of night was so peaceful with hundreds of stars twinkling like lanterns overhead.
Our last dinner was in Dublin, a vibrant town, exciting and busy, offering all manner of interests: arts, culture, food, song and dance; and its all there!!
As we placed our napkins on the table and pushed our chairs back with a big sigh, we can honestly say whether its dinner, bed or breakfast or the getting to any or all of the above, Ireland is a delightful place.
Now where do I pay the bill???
posted by PC and JT at 11:02 pm
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