Gunternation

A few weeks ago Bill told me he had made a reservation for our anniversary dinner, and that it was going to be a surprise. On the evening we hopped in a taxi and Bill asked the driver to take us to Stephen’s Green. A large proportion of Dublin restaurants are concentrated around the green, so I still had no idea of our destination. After hopping out at the corner of the green we wandered about (Bill wasn’t quite sure of the restaurant’s location) but we finally wound up at the Fitzwilliam Hotel which houses Thornton’s. Thornton’s is a one Michelin star restaurant owned by Chef Kevin Thornton and his wife, Muriel.

Bill had reserved the chef’s table, which meant we would have a window into the kitchen and would be served each course by the head chef. Thornton’s prefers to seat parties of four at the chef’s table because it is away from the other tables and misses some of the restaurant buzz. We really wanted to watch the kitchen, so they made an exception. The table was decorated with a stunning bouquet of red long-stemmed roses. We chose the eight-course Chef’s choice menu and settled in for a lovely evening. The chef’s table is near the bar, which was deserted on this Tuesday evening, so we treated it as our own private sitting area enjoying our pre-dinner Champagne.

Thornton is experimental, without losing sight of the fact that food is ultimately to be eaten. We had saffron infused mist (from dry ice) and tuna in a bowl of smoke, but it wasn’t all experiential. We definitely ate.

Here is our menu:

Ballotin of Guinea Fowl with Celeriac
Gazpacho of Cucumber Jelly, Mussels and Consomme
Roast King Scallop with Truffle Mousse
‘Mi-cuit’ of Foie Gras rolled in new season truffle
Fillet of Red Mullet, Shellfish Consomme
Smoked Yellow Fun Tuna, Prawns wrapped in Tuna and Beluga Caviar
Nettle and Thyme Sorbet
Wicklow Venison with Juniper Sauce
Cashel Blue Cheese
Molten Valrhona Chocolate
Petit-fours and Cappuccino

The scallop was our favorite course from a pure taste experience. It was simply grilled and perfectly matched, but not overpowered by the truffle mousse. I could have eaten about fifteen. The truffle course was also great. It included a healthy portion of marinated and cured foie gras rolled in black truffle. The slices of black truffle were a great treat. The truffle powder takes three months to make and delivered a jolt of truffle power. This was Bill’s favorite course intellectually and moved the meal to a higher level.

We enjoyed the autumn ingredients in the meal. The Guinea fowl with celeriac and venison were nicely seasonal, but light enough to fit into the overall meal. We enjoyed all the seafood as well. The Nettle and Thyme Sorbet was perfect! The herby sorbet worked great as a palate cleanser.

We moved back to the couch for the cheese and dessert courses. The dessert was a familiar, but perfectly prepared chocolate bombe. After all this, we were served a plate of lovely petit-fours.

We enjoyed the chef’s table. Being separated from the other diners with our own seating area made it feel like we were dining in our own private restaurant. It was fascinating to watch the plates come together in the small and efficient kitchen. Chef Kevin primarily plated the meals, and yelled occasionally. At one point the server asked if we could speak French. We said No. Good, he said. We did hear a few gems like, “I asked for a opera, not a f*cking musical!” (One of the petit-fours was opera cake.)

A memorable and delicious meal. A great start to Year 14.

As mentioned before, Bill and I visited Jerpoint Abbey a few Sundays ago, after our Relaxation Weekend in Kilkenny. Jerpoint is one of best preserved abbeys in Ireland, having been maintained by the Kilkenny Archaeological Society since the mid 19th century and under protection as a national monument since 1880.

This Cisterian Abbey was initially constructed in 1180 with a cruciform church layout with nave, chancel and transepts. The remaining structures dating from the 13-15th Centuries include the Nave, North Aisle, Cloister Garth (courtyard) and Calefactory, the only heated room at the Abbey. The Cisterians were an austere offshoot of the Benedictines. They lived on veggies and beer, and could visit the Calefactory only a few times throughout the day for a total of an hour.

The outstanding feature of Jerpoint Abbey is the carvings throughout, many the work of a famous stone sculptor family from the 15 and 16th Century, the O’Tunneys. Jerpoint Abbey was surrendered to the Earl of Ormond in 1540 as part of Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries. The total holdings of the Abbey at that time included a castle, several watermills and fisheries, comprising around 14, 500 acres.

Three of the Apostles: Peter with the key, Andrew with the cross, and possibly Luke (we can’t remember, and Luke and Mark share the symbol of the book).

The sin of gluttony.

A monkey.

Even though it kept trying to rain on us, we found Jerpoint Abbey fascinating and beautiful.

After a few weeks spent close to home, last weekend Bill and I ventured to Kilkenny. We’ve been to Kilkenny before, but didn’t get to explore the area as much as we’d liked because our car broke down. The Mighty Polo is in better form these days (more or less) so we decided to give it another go. We booked a “Relaxing Weekend” package at a hotel across the river from Kilkenny Castle. A deluge of rain was forecast, but our relaxation package included several meals, 30-minute massages, and 4:00 PM check out on Sunday–we didn’t have to leave the hotel if we didn’t want to. And if we did venture out, Kilkenny’s annual arts festival would be worth checking out.

Bill picked me up at my office Friday evening, and we arrived in Kilkenny around 8:30. We had dinner in the hotel at 9:00. As foodies there’s some pressure to choose the exotic, but sometimes you want basic grub, and the hotel restaurant delivered that quite tastily. The highlight was my whimsically served, tumbled basket of Caesar salad. We both had steaks for entrees. The hotel was host to a world music segment of the arts festival, so at certain points during the meal, strains of an Indian tune or Irish trad mixed with the easy listening melodies in the restaurant, creating a soundtrack “like the mind of a crazy person,” as Bill aptly observed. At least the crazy person ate normal food.

Saturday morning we were happy to eat breakfast in the hotel while rain lashed outside and young and old donned slickers in the lobby before venturing out for soggy seeing. We booked our massages for 12:00 and 12:30, and spent the morning watching Olympics. By 1:00 the rain had cleared, and we ate lunch at a nearby cafe. We wandering through some of the art exhibits, bought tickets for an orchestra concert that night, and visited the Black Abbey. The Black Abbey was built in the 13th C, destroyed by Cromwell in the 18th and rebuilt in the 19th. The church is still actively used by the Dominican order and has an impressive stained glass window from 1892 and a beautiful 15th C alabaster carving of the Holy Trinity. I have to say, it’s hard to visit many historical sites in Ireland without acquiring a distaste for Oliver Cromwell. Bill and I have developed a Seinfeldian Newman! response to his very name.

We’d seen the Ulster Orchestra perform before, but not in a 13th century cathedral. St. Canice’s cathedral is a lovely venue, even if the acoustics were not great for the featured violin. The rain had returned by the end of the concert, and we took refuge in an Indian restaurant down the street where we had a great dinner.

Kilkenny has a dual life as tourist-friendly, medieval city by day, and noisy, stag and hen party haven by night. The nightclubs were coming alive as we walked back to the hotel around 11:30, but the partying had been going on long enough that guys were already puking in the streets. Nice.

Sunday morning was cloudy, but not as rainy. After breakfast we walked the grounds of Kilkenny Castle for about an hour. We were highly entertained by a Little Grebe diving in a pond to find food for its chick. The air was autumnal, which of course freaked us out, as it was mid-August.

We had lunch at the hotel, and lounged in our room to wait out another band of rain. We left around 3:00, stopping by the shop at Jerpoint Glass. Luckily we were able to bypass the guard dog, and bought some candlesticks from the Seconds room. We proceeded on to Jerpoint Abbey. The lingering rain didn’t discourage our exploration of the Abbey, and it was the highlight of our weekend. The Abbey is so cool, that it deserves its own post.

“Nollaig Shona Duit” is Happy Christmas in Irish, pronounced “null-ig hun-a dit” or “NO-Lihg HO-nuh ghwich” or “Nullug Shunna it” (my cursory web research did not find consensus). Nollaig, the word for Christmas, is derived from the Latin natalicia which means birthday. Shona is happy and Duit is a singular “prepositional pronoun” meaning “to you.” If you’re addressing more than one person, the appropriate greeting is “Nollaig Shona Daoibh” (NO-Lihg HO-nuh JEEV). Thankfully, celebrating Christmas in Ireland is easier than saying it.

Christmas dawned bright and sunny in Dublin, a rare occurrence according to the Dubs. Bill and I attended a church service at 10:30 hosted by Trinity’s Lucan congregation. Emmanuel, God with Us. I really think we should sing Christmas hymns all year round.

After returning home we had some mince pies with brandy butter and a cuppa tea. We then opened presents. Bill gave me books by two Irish authors: a collection of short stories by John MacKenna and Anne Enright’s Booker-prize-winner, The Gathering. I gave Bill Roddy Doyle’s Barrytown Trilogy and The Irish Book of Lists–now Bill will be full of fascinating factoids at dinner parties. Bill gave me a beautiful pendant made with pressed flowers and I added a grey wool jumper (sweater) and fleece hoodie to Bill’s wardrobe. I had also wrapped an ornament I bought to commemorate our first Christmas in Ireland.

We ate left-over seafood chowder for lunch. Bill read that seafood is traditionally eaten on Christmas Eve (because it is a no-meat day for Catholic observers), so he made a delicious chowder that was even better the next day. I then took a Christmas nap while Bill baked the cornbread dressing and made deviled eggs.

We headed to the Dunne’s around 3:30. Margaret had set a gorgeous table. My picture turned out blurry, but I’m going to post it anyway. In addition to Kevin, Margaret and their children Nora and Rory, we shared Christmas with another family from Trinity: Nigel, Mary and their son Mark. While Margaret and Kevin worked like mad in the kitchen, we relaxed with mulled wine.
We began our meal with a champagne toast and popped our Christmas crackers. For starter we had baked portabello mushrooms with tomato and rashers. We brought out the deviled eggs also. They were well received, although folks were hesitant to try the ones Bill had sprinkled with ancho chili powder. After starters the food started coming and did not stop. Christmas dinner in Ireland shares many components with Thanksgiving: turkey, ham, stuffing, gravy, mash (mashed potatoes), baked sweet potatoes (and parsnips–not a Sharon fave), and Brussels sprouts. In addition we had veg stir-fry, mange tout (snow peas), roast potatoes, mashed swede (rutabaga), black eyed peas, spinach and asparagus. Our cornbread dressing is similar to stuffing, but I was happy to have it. We had several choices for dessert also: sherry trifle, Christmas pudding, pears poached in the mulled wine, ice cream and chocolates.

Since physical activity was unthinkable after such a meal, we chose instead to exercise our minds and played an electronic trivia game called Buzz. After keeping the lead for most of the game, Bill and I were bested in the end by 9-year-old, master of general knowledge, Rory. The rest of the evening we lounged, conversed, stared at the fire (burning coal and a bit of turf) and pet doggies. At 11:30 Bill and I decided we should return home, bearing turkey and ham. (The turkey was the largest I’d seen, 14 kilos or so, and the ham was cured but not smoked. All tasty with leftover dressing.) At midnight we made Christmas calls to the families, and then hit the sack.

I hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas!

Apparently in Ireland Santa gets to enjoy mince pies and Guinness. Perhaps he should make Ireland his last stop.