Back in Dunmore East again, still on the hunt for a decent pint. And I’m now delighted to report that I’ve actually found one.
It was a sleepy March weekday afternoon & I was chillin like a tourist but nonetheless I was still on the prowl (as any self-respecting G-lover always is). Having got a walk out of the way it was relax & pint time; the best part of any holiday day & the time I had been looking forward since sunrise. As the Guinness was average-to-rubbish in the three other establisments I’d previously tried in this village, it had to be one of only two remaining so The Three Sisters it was & on we head. By the façade you wouldn’t know there was a cosy, country pub waiting inside, more like a Irish water park from the 80’s (Rainbow Rapids anyone) but anyway it is lovely inside. This, though, can often lull you into a false sense of security, expecting a decent pint before any efforts have been attempted. This was exacerbated by the fact that the proprieter, a chap in his 50’s I’d say, said he’d drop the pint down to me &, as he seemed very comfortable in his surroundings, I trusted him with the pour.
Fear not though, when she arrived at my table she looked just great, exactly what I’d hoped for. Nice dome, thick lookin head & the wobble test confirmed it’s credentials; so far, so good, but of course, the proof is in the pudding, so in I went. Just a sup to start, nothing crazy, as I was with the family. The lip-flop left that which every good G-lover expects: a soft, flavour-filled residue around my nose. The liquid Goodness left a smile on my tongue; cool, black, refreshing, and a nice bit o’the cream, as it should be. I was loving this lasy afternoon pint, it was everything one would expect of a decent pint of The GoodBlacknWhite. I had another for good measure, again; solid as an ox, leaving this G-man in a good G-mood. Nice pints of Guinness are just lovely, & you will get one here.
We were back in The Sunny South-East for a long-weekend family trip away & I was still on the hunt to find a pub in Dunmore East that showed some love for the G (zero from two so far!). The sun was out, we had seats overlooking the bay & the view was beautiful. Not for the first time in this town, the scene was set, all that was now required was was a cool, creamy pint of The Good BlacknWhite to make this scene picture perfect.
Making the attempt was one of the bar girls &, unfortunately, she musn’ta been well versed in the art of the G. She left it settle for probably about 30 seconds before topping it off. This was a bad sign. I really hate it when a pint of Guinness doesn’t get left to its own devices for a sufficient amount of time. Whether it actually makes a difference or not, it’s part of the ritual that they say must be followed so God-damn it it should be respected. It breaks my heart so see a pint settling away, happy as Larry, when it just gets smashed by an early top-up. It settled into a dark one that had an ok look about it. The wobble-test gave me a little cause for concern as it wasn’t that creamy really but, still, there was nothing too alarming at this point. The sun, the scene & the pint in front of me all culminated in this tweet “The Strand, Dunmore East, in the sun with a cold one: G-heaven”
Unfortunately, after my first taste I realised I was, at a minimum, in G-purgatory. It tasted off, bit of the old squinty-wince face about it & the head started to dissipate after my first gulp. I was so disappointed, considering the scene as it was. We were in definite 2/4 territory here at this point. I soldiered on through but it was honestly rank; the finisher was akin to necking a mouldy lemon, it was straight out of G-hell! Though I saw no redemption for this place, I really wanted it to work so for my sins I went back to the well again & Jesus, it was off, well off, just like the first. This second wasn’t even drinkable, pure slop it was. I ended up leaving the half & heading. Again, why bother selling it if yer serving this shite? They need Francis Brennan back! As ever, my advice is to go somewhere that respects the G-punters but if you must drink here try the Birra Moratta on draft instead.
It was a another swelteringly hot day in the Sunny South-East & I’d been out & about with the whole family just basking in it. Unfortunately for all concerned, due to the outrageous heat, I had inadvertently locked us out of the holiday home. So, having had to take a wander to track down a ladder, I was sweaty as fork by the time the auld one climbed in an upstairs window to let everyone in. I was bloody parched! I deserved a cool, smooth pint of The Good BlacknWhite.
Thankfully, the clubhouse of the Dunmore East Golf Club was a mere 20 yards from the holiday home so I got to the bar & ordered fairly lively. The pint only cost around €4 so that was a great start. It couldn’t come fast enough the thirst on me but to my abject disappointment it landed in front of me with a bubbly head. Gutted I was, but seeing as I was gasping for a drink I just had to get into it asap. Immediately upon first taste I got squinty-wince-face. The was no mistaking this one, it was all round off.
My second attempt confirmed its mankiness as the wincing progressed & my face contorted. Had I not seen it poured myself I would well have thought it was the slops; horrendous it was. I struggled on, each sup worse than the last. By the time I got halfway we had gone from a fluffy to a pencil-tache head; it was time to call it. This was up there with the worst of them & was no longer drinkable. Why pretend you sell Guinness when you actually sell some shite? Just don’t bother. They have pint bottles of Harp, if yer ever here, go there!
I don’t know how it is for everyone else, but when I’m on my holidays all I can think about is a nice cool pint. Lounging around is lovely; wandering on walks is wonderful; family fun n frolics in freezing seas is fantastic, but all the time on my mind is to find somewhere to enjoy a pint of the smooothest, coolest, creamiest Goodness. Mmmmm, just the thought of it.
It was a blisteringly hot day & I was on on me jollies in the sunny South-East & I was gagging to get a taste of the local attempt. To my delight, my auld pair said they knew a lovely spot with a great view that was perfect for some afternoon refreshment. The sun was splitting the pebbles in front of this period house hotel so we opted for a picnic table with amazing views across the bay to Hook head. The scene was most certainly set, it was missing just one thing. I ordered the pint but was too busy bringing drinks to the family to stay n view the Settler so it was ready n waiting upon my return. I wobble-tested & to my disappointment found a watery cheann. To add to this, the first thing my aul lad said when I sat down was “oooh, awwww, doesn’t look great that”! Irish auld lads probably just know, it’s intuition; you get to a certain age and you just have the-Knowledge-of-the-G. He was right, there were a good few tiny bubbles in the head; a bad omen. There was no lip-flop, twas more like what happens with the head of a beer, and as I tasted it I knew, I just knew the taste had lived up to the look and feel. I even tried to pretend it was half decent the second time I went at it but I had to give up, it just tasted off & my idyllic view was tainted. Too much carbon dioxide I’d say if pushed, but definitely not good enough. Get a beer if you want to enjoy the view but my advice is go somewhere else where the G-punters are treated with the respect they deserve.