About the Opal Corsa. There are no worries that the Opal Corsa will be mistaken for a sports car. With 0-60 times that can be measured with a calendar, you don’t have to stress that it will be mistaken for a performance car. With 13” rims and gelatinous body lines, it’ll never be mistaken for a cool car, either. But that’s not to say the little thing is without merit. With the seats folded down, our 2 big suitcases fit nicely. It’s got Apple CarPlay, so the geniuses in Cupertino can take us to the wrong address right from the dash screen. The short wheelbase and narrow track means it’s well suited for the insanely tight Irish roads. It sips the expensive petrol, so not too bad at the pump. And the 1.nothing liter, less-then-your-lawnmower-HP engine mated to the vague, mushy 5 speed improbably got the job done, especially if you keep it around 4000 rpm. So we’ve become oddly connected to our bitty econobox, now the third member of our posse.
This morning our trusty steed to taking us to Doolin, the
northern end of the Cliffs of Moher trail.
We did the southern half of the trail yesterday, so now we get to see it
from another perspective. We park next
to a row of stores that look like they came from someone’s model train set and we
set out. The trail is good, steep in
some parts and excitingly close to the cliff’s edge. We are virtually alone which makes it even
better, feeling like we have the whole thing to ourselves. We pass a little spike of a castle that looks
like it could have been made with Legos, and a perfect little farmhouse on a
high bluff. The rock outcrops are an
unexpected cacophony of color, white from the birds, yellow shore litchen,
green algae, and splashes of pink blooms emanating from the cracks. At the top, the 700’ cliffs are dizzying and
we’re afforded a few minutes to take in the scene alone, our personal wonder-of-the-world
if only for a bit.
Leaving the cliffs, we stop in Burren, a cute town but one
that does not cater to travelers. Like
most non-tourists towns, restaurants are not open for lunch, even the cafe in
the big hotel in the middle of the main street.
We eventually end up finding a meal at Keogh’s in Kinvara, a tasty
burger and a fantastic buttermilk chicken sandwich that crushes Chik-Fil-A,
replete with the requisite pint of Guinness.
We make it to Galway and wander through the busy Latin
Quarter. Throughout our trip, we’ve been
hearing that Galway was the music hub of the country, and there’s a street
musician every block or so to illustrate that point. We’re having a bit of culture shock, the busy
city energy a stark contrast to the peaceful village vibes we’ve been in for
the past week or so. Our walk ends at
the famous Spanish Arch, which, we have to admit, is underwhelming. We leave the Quarter and check into the Sea
Breeze Lodge B&B in the Salt Hill section of town, and meet Fred, our meticulous
French innkeeper. After showing us
around and helping with our bags, he and I end up in a 10-minute conversation
about Irish culture. He explains that
the French cities he hails from were tough, and that you needed a thick skin to
get by. But in his 22 years here, the
overwhelming and consistent kindness of the people have inspired, if not forced
him, to become his best, most caring self.
After a deep afternoon nap we get a last minute reservation
at Oscar’s in the trendy West End. The
place is modern bohemian with colorful artwork and low thumpy music. The restaurant is the creation of Euro-Toques
chef Michael O’Meara, who is also the author of Sea Gastronomy and Oyster
Gastronomy, two books that have become the gold standard among accomplished
chefs on the preparation of north Atlantic seafood. The menu is entirely based on the freshest
catches on the local dock today. I get
the mixed platter special, which included Spurdog and Raywing, two fishes I
have never had before. Spurdog is a type
of dogfish shark and served as a tender steak.
Raywing is the edible delicacy made from the flaps of north Atlantic
ray, flaky, mild and super tender. Mandy
gets the Hake and muscles. It’s served
is a rich fish stock with leeks and spinach and Mandy immediately picks up the tarragon
essence. It’s an unbelievable dish that
gets better with each bite. I flag down
our host, a big guy from Croatia with an easy smile, and ask him to tell us
more about the dish. As he starts to
describe it, tables on either side of us stop to listen. He speaks of building layers from starting
with the intense stock then poaching all the seafood in the simmering
broth. He reveals the one spice we
cannot identify, what he calls the magic in the recipe, is star anise, which we
never would have guessed. Mandy and I
agree that this is one of the best dishes we have ever had anywhere in the world
and know we are having a moment in the moment.
Our hosts picks a dessert for us, a torch brazed banana served with
house made ice cream and a thin, crispy biscuit. To top it all off, we are stunned when the
bill comes, and it’s very reasonable, especially considering it included a
bottle of exquisite Spanish Tempranillo.
Any meal even close to this in the states would easily be triple.
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