Why Dingle leaves us hungry for more

I DON’T think I’ve ever had a bad weekend in Dingle — and I’ve been visiting there since before Fungi, the Dingle dolphin made it his home.

He’s put in 30 years’ sterling (and dollar, and euro-generating) service to the Kerry town’s booming tourism trade, so it’s only right they’ve put a bronze sculpture of him  by the pier. His outline, image and cheesy bottle-nose grin adorns bars, restaurants, tee-shirts, art and craftwork; the obliging pensioner is still punching in seven-day weeks, year in, year out, putting similar smiles on the faces of many of Dingle’s businesses. When Fungi finally does smirk his last, expect the arguments about stuffing him to rise to the surface — he’s just too slick and co-dependent an act to let slip away.

However, stuffing in a far more humane way was on the menu on a recent Dingle visit, in early October, during its annual Food Festival. It proved to be the icing on top of what have become many familiar weekend away ingredients down the decades, when making the welcome trek to this most beautiful, rewarding peninsula  of the Kingdom. Once you crest the spectacular Brandon and Conor Pass approach (my favourite route), it’s downhill to Dingle all the way, slaloming between the sheep and lambs grazing the ditches, thoughts turning all the while to mint sauce.