Michelin & back again

Sleepy enough during the winter months, Carlingford still hasn’t come to life in early March. A bitter chill hangs in the air like an invisible icicle, threatening to spike you in the neck, but the sun is shining and if there’s one thing we know for certain it’s that whenever the sun shines, Carlingford opens up like a flower.

We are in the beautiful, compact Louth village because we’re escaping the tyranny of grown-up children, and where better to breathe easy than here? There are a few other places we could have chosen for dinner but a sign outside the Oystercatcher Bistro — right in the centre of the village — catches our eye. Written in yellow chalk, it states (and I’m paraphrasing) that the rear door is only for the likes of politicians, gobdaws, spin merchants, crackerjacks, dubious langers, and other people of similar ilk. The front door, therefore, is for the likes of honest people who like good food at bistro prices. That’s us, then.