Friday, 20 April 2012

Smokeless Cigarettes, Guinness and a Bar Called Leggs: Debauchery in Dublin


Howth, Ireland
After the thrills of Easter were over I had booked in a much overdue trip to Ireland to visit my old colleague and whirlwind of fantastic infectious energy LM. Joining the party was lovely London-based foodie CD making for an exciting weekend ahead.

I booked to fly with Ryan Air, always the cheap option and always a gamble of wrestling with fellow passengers to get a decent seat and tutting loudly British style when somebody pushes in the never ending boarding queue.

The last flight of the day was full of the usual fun characters that I just love to observe. The elderly mother and daughter who could easily earn a place on television starring in their own comedy sketch. Her determined mother dressed up in her smartest red coat reminding me of that Eddie Izzard sketch of the queen mother who just keeps going. I loved overhearing the obligatory mother and daughter bickering that was still alive after all these years and having a secret satisfied smile that the old dear was right all along about what gate it was.

The lady sitting across from me was a weary middle-aged teacher using this brief opportunity of semi-peace and quiet to finally mark endless essays scrawled in pencil. I smiled as she jotted down 'I loved your comedic use of narrative style' wondering who the student was and feeling a little longing in my stomach to be 12 and writing creatively again.

About halfway through our very brief flight once the arguing behind me and the screaming baby had finally quietened the cabin crew passed through the aisles offering an endless array of highly inappropriate items: 'smokeless cigarettes? anybody? smokeless cigarettes?'. What the hell are smokeless cigarettes? I asked myself. After this baffling event was over a different member of the cabin crew wandered past. Scratch cards? Anybody want to win up to 1,000 euros on a scratch card? Vodka? Does anybody want a bottle of vodka? Ok so they didn't do the vodka thing but wow, was I turning into a prude or was this highly unusual flight etiquette? Perhaps there is some legal loophole that only exists over the stretch of ocean between Britain and Ireland where flights of passengers have 40 minutes of endless debauchery drinking vodka and throwing around scratch cards and all having sex with one another before passing out quietly to smoke their smokeless cigarettes.

By the time I had finished this daydream it was time to land. Little did I know that this debauchery would mark my time in Ireland.

A night out in Leggs

Appletini anybody?
Our first night was hallmarked by three things: cocktails, shots and a bar called Leggs. We arrived in the heart of the city at 10pm and went straight to a bar playing loud hits such as 'beautiful people'. Quickly realising that we all had a lot of catching up to do and some numbing against this crime against music, the Jagermeisters came out. What follows is a little hazy blur of dancing, wandering into convenience stores that sell delicious smelling chunks of lasagna, loudly singing Take That and getting in a cab to find the famous Leggs. I don't remember much about our Leggs experience suffice to say it was like partying in some body's basement surrounded by hundreds of sweaty people. I recall three key events: being handed a Smirnoff Ice with the first sip of it's insipid sugaryness taking me back to my youth, observing C trying to steal kebabs from baffling trays of roaming food that nobody was allowed to touch and getting far too excited when Bonnie Tyler came on.

The next day was spent with the mother of all hangovers making me pleased to have nearly grown out of the heady fun of partying most nights. We retired to the Village Cafe (http://villagecafe.ie/) in Rathmines for friendly staff, a lot of Irish sausages, two coffees and tons of chatting before wandering into town to explore the city.

We ducked into the park by St Stephens Green, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, couples idled past, the sun was shining and our heads were starting to clear slightly. With a new lease of life LM decided to take us to Temple Bar for 'hair of the dog' Irish style.



We arrived at The Temple Bar (http://www.thetemplebarpub.com/) and enjoyed some obligatory Guinness and live music. I was pleasantly surprised to hear Waltzing Matilda making me smile about my distant heartland.
  
Temple Bar Joy

Relaxed dining at Jo'Burger
137 Lower Rathmines Road, Rathmines Dublin
http://joburger.ie/

It was time to decide on dinner and we made the decision to head back to Rathmines and go grab a burger. We idled into Jo'Burger and managed to get a table for 3, it was packed and had a great atmosphere, the menus were printed on annuals, long stem candles were shoved into wine bottles (so simple but I love it), attractive waiters bounded past and a DJ was softly playing soul. It was wonderful. I ordered the smoked applewood cheddar burger with 100% Irish beef and whole chunks of crunchy apple. We washed it down with some delicious beakers of wine, a pile of onion rings and some chips with jalapeno mayo. It was just what the doctor ordered (or not).

One hell of a burger
Deciding now we were in our late twenties/early 30s we couldn't handle another night of Leggs we decided to grab a quiet drink somewhere and found the perfect venue. A bar called Toast. It was a great place, we quietly enjoyed a G&T, loads of chatting and some people watching. The hairy DJ seemed to be my musical soul mate intuitively playing my ultimate play list: Tears for Fears, New Order, Depeche Mode interlaced with a little Prodigy, Haddaway and Joy Division. Remarking that 'if he plays Blue Monday I'm going to ask him to marry me' it was time to wander home to lament about wonderful Dublin and have a respectable Sunday.

Hangovers at Howth
On our final day LM drove us to the seaside town of Howth to go and get some local food and fresh air. The place was beautiful and full of organic market stalls offering local seafood and hot sizzling meats. Grabbing a sausage bap and wandering down the pier I noted how beautiful the Irish hills were in the light reminding me a little of Wales and how much I miss living next to the sea.CD was grabbing her flight home so we said goodbye and planned our last meal.

Dinner at Locks Brasserie
Number One, Windsor Terrace Portobello, Dublin
http://www.locksbrasserie.com/index.php


L had been recommended Locks as having some beautiful French food and a relaxed atmosphere, at about 8pm we luckily snagged a quiet table for two looking over the canal. We opted for a beautiful bottle of French white to start and was presented with some house made bread and butter scattered with sea salt. Remarking that I would come here just to have wine and bread we chose our starter and main. For starter we both chose the mussel broth with perfect cubes of soft tomato, fresh parsley and lobster croutons excellently presented in a beaker.

Chicken and chorizo
For main I chose the pan fried chicken with chorizo cubes and cream, smears of pea puree and a potato fondant stack. Deciding that it wasn't quite rich enough I ordered a side of my favourite champ mash dripping in butter. The food was incredible, the staff were amazing and the atmosphere was truly lovely. We decided to impulsively share a dessert choosing the banana parfait with chocolate dirt (Heston style), peanut butter crunch ice cream and dots of caramel. I'd come back to Dublin for this dish alone. And the wonderful company of course.

Banana Parfait
It was time to wander home and conclude my little break to Dublin, I was impressed by their food, warm hospitality and most of all that Irish spirit. Farewell for now you beautiful city, I will be back. Now if you'll excuse me I have a flight to catch.

Packet of smokeless cigarettes please.
  
Rathmines Architecture