While in Dublin last week, we decided to have lunch at the oldest and most famous chippery in the city. We were in the area of Christ Church Cathedral so we excitedly stopped by for an anticipated historic lunch. There was a sign out front indicating where to form the queue, so even though it wasn’t crowded that day, we knew this must be a very popular haunt. We’re fairly light eaters, so we decided that one order would be enough food for both of us. We went for the cod rather than the haddock, since we decided that cod would be the most traditional and authentic choice. We wanted this meal to be “real.”

Within 2 minutes we were handed a wrapped package that looked very much like something you might get from a butcher. Nothing fancy, the package was just a couple of layers of tan paper wrapped around the food on the diagonal. Pretty straight-forward, but the simplicity of it all made the moment even more engaging. Em took the wrapped fish and chips from the cheerful clerk and paid the bill, which to our surprise was only about 10 euro including drinks. As we walked from the chippery, Em swung the package to his side and began to chuckle. “This is heavy!” He laughed. As he handed the package to me, he asked, “What do you think, 2-3 pounds?” Wow! He was right. Good thing we only ordered a single serving. Could one person really eat all that?!

The place is only about 3 square feet inside and carry-out only. So off we went toward Saint Patrick Cathedral to picnic in the park. We found an empty bench in the warm sunshine and sat down. As we slowly and carefully unwrapped our lunch, we took care not to let the oil from the deep-frying seep through the paper. The single piece of fish was huge, probably a foot long and 6 inches wide. The chips were some pretty hefty potato slices. Normally, when I think of fish and chips, I usually envision pieces of cod about 3-fingers wide, tucked in with slivers of potatoes the size of my pinkie. Those spuds were planks of potatoes, well-cooked and super moist from being all wrapped up, so they draped themselves over my safely papered knee.

We each had a white plastic fork and began gouging away at the fish. There was quite a bit of crust, so we poked through it to dig out the steamy white cod inside.  The fork tines sometimes bent, but held up well enough to eventually succeed in getting to the meat.  It was really pretty good. There were a few crispier potatoes hiding just at the edge of the fish, so I stabbed one and quickly ate it before Em caught on to my sneaky plan. The longer the “package” rested on my lap, the more the oil soaked into the paper, so I stealthily slid the stack of napkins between the paper and my jeans without making a scene—I didn’t want to ruin the magic.

I threw an especially meaty piece of potato to a nearby pigeon and from nowhere, 30 of his best friends descended for their shares. Although there was plenty to go around, we decided that feeding them was probably not a good idea. Finally we declared lunch to be finished and wrapped the remaining quarter pound of fried batter along with the accompanying soggy chips in its very shiny paper. The package was still so large that it barely fit into the trash can opening.

Well, we both concluded that our authentic lunch certainly qualified as a true Dublin experience! The romance of the oldest chippery on the isle of Ire and picnic in the park was fun. Sometimes romance arrives in different packages—it just takes a little squinting and some imagination to recognize it.

Posted on October 12, 2010

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