It’s a chilly St Patrick’s weekend in Kilkenny, and the medieval city is throbbing to the sound of uileann pipes, concertinas, tin whistles, bodhráns, and enough jigs’n’reels to whirl you to the end of time and back again.More
Timoleague, an ancient village overlooking the beautiful Argideen estuary, seems a challenged place on a still dark, early spring evening.More
One of the golden stretches for restaurants in Dublin is St Andrew’s St; minutes away from Grafton St, Stephen’s Green, and Temple Bar, it packs more really good restaurants into a very short length of cement than probably any other area of the city.More
T’S nearly time to go rooting in the attic to find the green wig and the St Patrick’s cape and crozier, the plastic shillelagh and, if you’re of a certain generation and of an optimistic/desperate disposition, the kiss-me-quick-I’m-Irish hat.
Some chefs have reputations they don’t deserve; others definitely so.More
THERE are moments, just passing ones, but moments of real promise, at this time of the year when the hard, cobalt blue of the cold winter sky is softened by strands of viridian light, an energising, germinating light that promises that spring is coming on the next train; that the circle is indeed unbroken.More
THERE’S a brilliant scene in Woody Allen’s 1980 movie Stardust Memories where he is sitting in a stationary train carriage, his companions doleful — harried refugees straight out of a Diane Arbus photoshoot.More
ONE CONSEQUENCE of the global economic kerfuffle was the increased clamour for culinary comfort, nostalgia for food that evoked the safe haven of childhood, when all was right with the world.More
WE FIRST catch a glimpse of the Seabank Bistro last summer — the sun is beaming down, we are driving by wishing we had a convertible; there are diners in summer clothes languishing by outdoor tables, dipping into the al fresco food and sipping on chilled white wine.More
THE people behind Zamora, one of several welcome new restaurants in Cork City, may have taken inspiration from Mary Howitt’s lines ...
AND YOUR starter for 10 is how many movie stars can you name from their photos on the walls of the gents’ toilets.
TIME was that when a broth of an Irishman — and the long, curious journey towards self-realisation has suggested I may be one — decided to visit a vegetarian restaurant it was like going to the zoo.More
Tony Clayton Lea visits Scholars Restaurant in Drogheda.More
AN ITALIAN restaurant in Temple Bar? Keep still thy beating heart and quell thy cynicism.
A graphically well-designed menu suggests cheering possibility like a well-dressed Christmas tree levitating on a bed of beautifully-packed gifts, some labelled with your name in generous Auntie Betty’s clear, strong, knowing hand.
The time is coming up to 3pm, the day is Friday, and the following conversation occurs in Spa Seafoods between a member of staff and a mature woman who has obviously been to the restaurant a few times before.
IF Percy French’s venerable sparring partners Abdul Abulbul Amir and Ivan Skavinsky Skavar still get together for a Christmas jaw-wag, to talk about old, old times when men were men, “when that son of the desert, in battle aroused, could spit 20 men on his spear”, it’s hard to think that those noble cuirassiers would go anywhere other than a proper, belt-stretching steakhouse.
WE have been to smaller restaurants but usually they’ve been located in much larger cities than Dublin — hideaways in side streets and alleyways in Paris and New York spring to mind.
The Pepperstack Bistro at Rosie’s Bar in Lower Aghada, Co Cork is a bistro like Paul O’Connell is a rugby player, like Graham Norton is an entertainer.