It’s almost overwhelming trying to put into context the amount of food I ate during the four weeks I was travelling through Ireland and Wales. There were so many fantastic things, eaten with so much curiosity. Some were incredible meals, some were breakfasts, some were things I’d wanted to try for years, and some were as simple as a packet of crisps with a Guinness.
And I think that’s what I loved most.
Food doesn’t have to be fancy to be memorable.
Arriving in Dublin — Guinness, Tayto and Fish & Chips
What was the first thing I ate?
After eventually getting to my accommodation in Dublin — without my luggage — it was early afternoon, so I decided to venture out and have a Guinness.
I found a pub, ordered a Guinness and a packet of Tayto crisps.
Da best.
From there I wandered until I found a food hall that felt like somewhere the locals actually went, and had fish and chips absolutely soaked in vinegar.
Welcome to Ireland.
Throughout the trip I was also determined to get my head around Irish breads. Stout bread, soda bread, potato farls, potato bread…
I was hoping this trip would finally give me some clarification on what bread was what, but every person I asked seemed to give me a different version.
My favourite stout bread?
Oh my goodness. Was it at Anair? Was it with one of the many full breakfasts I ate? Was it the bread I had in Dublin?
Honestly, they all had their own character, and they were all bloody delicious.
Toasties, Crisps and Guinness
Toasties — toasted sandwiches — seemed to be everywhere, usually served with a side of crisps, which obviously gets my approval.
I’ve always been one to add crisps to a sandwich for texture and, of course, salt.
Let’s not open that can of worms. Lol.
My first toastie was the day after arriving in Dublin, when I was still waiting for my suitcase. I ventured to the Castle Lounge and ordered a ham, onion, cheese and tomato toastie. When it arrived, I smeared it with mustard and, naturally, had a Guinness to wash it down.
Another memorable one was in Belfast. I was wandering around with nowhere in particular to be when I found the Linen Hall. The toastie came with pickles and crisps, and behind the bar was a jar of pickled eggs.
I didn’t order another Guinness there because I’d already been to Bittles Bar, which claims to serve the best Guinness in Belfast — and refuses to serve half pints.
I loved that.
The tiny bar, the quirkiness, the characters. Sometimes it was as much about where I was eating and drinking as what I was having.
The Breakfasts — and My New Sausage Obsession
Pork sausages.
Oh. My. Goodness.
I have never been a huge sausage fan, but because I ordered so many big breakfasts on this trip, I kept eating them and thinking, Why are these so bloody good?
I would love to be able to access sausages like them back home.
My first proper breakfast was at Two Boys Brew in Dublin, the morning after I arrived — still waiting for that bloody bag.
I ordered the Brekkie Bap: streaky bacon, homemade crunchy potato, scrambled egg, cheddar cheese, spring onion and gochujang garlic aioli on a brioche bun, with tomato relish.
Loved, loved, loved the crunchy potato and relish in that bun.
In Holywood there was potato bread, Irish bread, sausage, black pudding, mushrooms, tomato and bacon — accompanied by a Bloody Mary.
Because why not? I was on holidays. Lol.
Another morning in Holywood, I had a sausage bagel with chips and a cup of tea while catching up with my cousin.
I loved standing back and watching the different systems and ways of doing things. This place had a counter where you ordered and paid, then grabbed your tray and collected your milk, cutlery and sides.
It reminded me of Holly’s, the little café that used to be attached to Kmart back in the day.
In Galway, I went to Dela for a full breakfast. I got there just before they opened on Sunday and I’m so glad I did. I got a table and then watched the place fill up. Tables were being turned, the staff were flat out but still lovely, and most people walking in had actually booked.
Hickey sausage, pudding, rashers, eggs, mushrooms, home fries, crusty white bread and relish.
Another Galway breakfast was at Ard Bia, where the service, food and tea were bloody amazing.
And it’s so hard to say which breakfast was the best because they were all brilliant in their own right.
The day, the time, the venue, the staff, what I had done beforehand, what I chose to eat — all of it became part of the experience.
And guess what?
I even ordered a steak one morning in Holywood.
I decided I needed some iron, and it came with béarnaise sauce, chips and a fried egg.
And, of course, another cup of tea.
The Boxty House
I had walked past Gallagher’s Boxty House in Temple Bar earlier in the trip and made a mental note of it. I was really keen to learn more about boxty, but if I’m being truthful, I wasn’t overly keen on heading back into Temple Bar. It’s incredibly touristy and busy, and I’d been enjoying finding places a little further away from all of that.
But I took one for the team and went back.
And I am so bloody glad I did.
It ended up being one of my favourite food experiences in Dublin.
The waitstaff were fantastic, and I loved the menu — not only the food on it, but the actual layout and the way they presented traditional Irish dishes. There were different styles of boxty, Irish stews, colcannon, homemade breads and even a section called “Mam’s Cooking”. It was traditional Irish food, but presented in a really fun and approachable way.
I was there to learn more about boxty, so I ordered the Corned Beef Boxty — corned beef with little boxty dumplings, cabbage and kale in a parsley sauce.
Bloody delicious.
Then, because apparently I thought I needed more potatoes, I ordered the spice bag fries with curry-lime mayo and a bowl of fried pickles with spicy mayo.
And a Guinness, of course.
I loved the whole experience. I sat by the window, ate far too much food and chatted to the staff about where I should head for my next pint.
They sent me off to another old Dublin pub, where I sat with another Guinness, listened to live music and soaked it all in before eventually wandering back to my accommodation.
Sometimes the places you nearly don’t go to end up being some of the best.
Da Spice Bag
I had wanted to get my hands on a spice bag for quite some time.
And I will — mark my words — figure out the recipe and conquer that flavour.
Mwahahaha.
After a day wandering Galway and having a few cheeky wines here and there, I Googled the best spice bag in Galway and ended up at Xi’an Street Food on Quay Street.
Incredibly crispy shredded chicken, perfectly seasoned chips and punchy fresh chillies.
Even though I was already full from a day of eating and drinking, I still managed to devour that delicious bag of goodness.
Food and Family in Holywood
When I planned my stay in Holywood, where my father spent the first few years of his life, I booked an Airbnb without realising it was on the same street where my grandparents had raised their 12 children. Around the corner was the street where my nanny and her sister had been raised.
I had originally planned to do lots of touring, but once I arrived, something in me said to slow down.
So I extended my stay to a week and simply spent time in the same place where my family had once lived.
After one of my many days walking around, I called into Ned’s Bar. I had stopped there for a pint when I visited more than 20 years ago, so I ordered a drink, sat down and listened to the locals.
When I’m travelling alone, I try not to sit staring at my phone. I usually have a notebook with me and scribble instead.
I got chatting to one of the older staff members and a gentleman at the bar. The usual questions came — where was I from, what brought me to Holywood — so I explained my family connection.
And they said, “Oh, you’d be Leslie’s great-niece.”
How bloody cool is that?
Leslie passed away a few years ago, but meeting people who remembered my relatives filled my heart.
And yes, I was already full when I left.
But I was still craving those Irish sausages.
So I went to a lovely butcher and bought vegetables, sausages and these potato things that I cannot for the life of me remember the name of, but they reminded me of duchess potatoes.
Sometimes food really is so much more than food.
Cooking with Alix
Alix and I met through Instagram years ago. She runs a popular, informal cooking school from a beautiful Georgian townhouse in Dublin.
When I was planning the trip, I reached out to let her know I would be coming over. She was keen to catch up and do some cooking together, and after lots of messages backwards and forwards trying to make the timing work, we did it.
Alix suggested we cook something using strawberries — Wicklow strawberries, to be precise.
She decided on a crumble, and I thought I’d go old-school with zabaglione.
I had travelled from Belfast back to Dublin the day before and checked into accommodation on the wrong side of the river, but braced myself because it was only for two nights.
The next morning I walked about 45 minutes across Dublin to Alix’s, wandering through gardens and stopping for coffee along the way.
I also stopped at Fallon & Byrne.
Oh my goodness.
One of those supermarkets where I wished I could put the entire bloody place in my suitcase and bring it home.
I grabbed another coffee, some Irish bread to take to Nan, and some cake to use as an element with my zabaglione and macerated strawberries.
Then it was time to cook.
We had heaps of fun, and I loved Alix’s home, her cooking space and her garden.
Wales — Cockles, Laverbread and Family
Arriving in Wales, I stayed with my beautiful cousin Lisa and her family, who had taken the week off so we could spend the time together.
The following morning we went for a walk to visit my niece, who was working at a café. As we walked along the beach, I noticed people down by the water and asked what they were doing.
“Getting cockles.”
Well, that was it. My chef brain immediately kicked in.
“Oh my goodness — let’s get some cockles and do a cooking video by the seaside!”
The response from the family was basically, “Hell no. We don’t eat those.”
They had no idea how exciting this was to me. We certainly don’t have people wandering down to the beach collecting cockles back home in Dimboola.
I’m in the bloody desert!
I reluctantly let the idea go.
The following day we headed to Mumbles. After coffee and some more Welsh cakes with Nan, we wandered along the seaside and — there it was — a seafood van selling cockles.
Finally!
I bought myself some while the family once again politely refused to have anything to do with them. They were lovely, and I was very happy to tick Welsh cockles off my list.
Further along, I found laverbread.
Now, when someone says laverbread, naturally I imagined some sort of bread containing seaweed.
Nope.
It’s seaweed — laver that has been cooked down into a dark purée. Rich in iron, completely different to anything I’d eaten at home and absolutely delicious.
Of course, my immediate thought was how much I would have loved to get into a kitchen and cook with it.
The Mumbles Ice Cream Incident
Apparently, you can’t go to Mumbles without having the ice cream.
Lisa assured me it was the best, so off I went with my nieces to get one.
Except I made the rookie mistake of ordering a flavoured one — some sort of berry flavour — and it tasted like cough syrup.
Naturally, when asked what I thought, I politely said, “Yeah, it’s nice.”
Lisa took one look at what I’d ordered.
“Why did you get a flavoured one? You’re supposed to get the plain one!”
Right.
Good information to have before ordering.
My niece went back to the shop and explained that her auntie was visiting from Australia and had ordered the wrong ice cream. I offered to pay for another one, but the lovely man behind the counter sorted it out and replaced it with the plain one.
And Lisa was right.
That was the ice cream I was supposed to order.
Cooking With My Nieces
Food also became something I could share with my nieces while I was there.
We filmed a couple of cooking videos together, making Welsh cakes — although we gave tradition a little nudge and added chocolate chips — and made bara brith.
There was something really special about learning about Welsh food while surrounded by family. I wasn’t just visiting Wales and ticking dishes off a list; I was cooking, eating and sharing food with family who have made their lives there.
A Family Picnic
On the Thursday night of my week in Wales, we celebrated my cousin Deborah’s son’s birthday at the most beautiful conservation park.
My nieces and I had been cooking beforehand, making Irish potato bread and bara brith to take along, while Deborah had organised the rest of the food.
One thing I loved about the supermarkets over there was the sheer amount of choice when it came to easy entertaining. There were snack packs, little bits and pieces and platters you could simply order and pick up ready to go.
The amount of plastic packaging wasn’t something I loved — and you know how I feel about unnecessary waste — but the convenience and variety were pretty impressive.
So we gathered with sandwiches, our homemade breads and all the little knick-knacks, ate together and played cricket in this beautiful park.
It wasn’t fancy food. It wasn’t a restaurant or some great culinary experience.
It was simply food shared with family.
And I think that’s why I remember it so clearly.
I cuddled Nan as much as I possibly could that evening. By then I knew my time in Wales — and with her — was quickly coming to an end, and I just wanted to soak up every minute.
I love her so much.
The Simple Things
Even catching the train became a little food moment that I loved.
I’d grab a sandwich, a packet of crisps and a juice, and they’d package the whole lot up in a little paper bag for the journey.
Such a simple thing, but I thought it was the coolest.
There was something about sitting on the train, watching the countryside go past with my little bag of lunch that made me ridiculously happy.
And maybe that’s what I’ve realised while trying to put four weeks of eating into words.
There were beautiful restaurants, incredible produce, breakfasts I’m still thinking about, breads I still can’t properly define, Guinness, spice bags, cockles, laverbread and more Irish sausages than I can count.
But food doesn’t have to be fancy to be memorable.
Sometimes it’s a packet of Tayto with your first Guinness in Dublin.
Sometimes it’s a toastie and crisps.
Sometimes it’s a little paper bag of lunch on a train.
And sometimes it’s food spread out on a table or a picnic rug, surrounded by people you love.
Maybe that’s why I found it so hard to write this blog.
I wasn’t just trying to remember what I ate.
I was remembering who I shared it with, where I was and how I felt when I ate it.
