Kilmainham Jail offers beguiling tales of modern Irish history

Stereotypes are, we all know, dangerous things that should be avoided. And yet ... I found myself sitting in the chapel of Kilmainham Jail, brought to tears as our guide told us about the night-before-execution wedding of Grace Gifford and Joseph Plunkett, and thinking "damn, these people are just born storytellers."

In my life I have found much to prove that stereotype and almost nothing to contradict it. I suspect Tourism Ireland, the Dublin Writers Museum* and the folks who charge you to kiss the Blarney Stone would all support the idea. I've certainly always embraced the possibility that my own tale-spinning skills owe a lot to the quarter of my DNA that comes from counties Longford and Cork. If you're short on time in Dublin and want to put the Irish storyteller theory to the test, Kilmainham is a grand place to encounter all the emotions in the human repertoire, complete with memorable characters, atmospheric settings and compelling guides.

The jail lies on the western edge of the city, across the Liffey from the vast sprawl of Phoenix Park. Though its thick grey walls and oppressive architecture seem grim by modern standards, the buildings you see today were models of Victorian reform. It’s painful to look into tiny cells, and feel the chill even on a sunny day, and realise this was an improvement on the corrupt, overcrowded past. For people starving to death in famine times, incarceration gave them at least one meal a day and transportation to Australia was at least some chance at a future. 

The tales that most people want to hear, however, and the ones that led to the building’s restoration, are those associated with Ireland’s independence. There were five notable rebellions between the late 18th and the early 20th century, and leaders from all were incarcerated here. Many were executed.

There’s a museum full of memorabilia, letters, videos and information boards you can look at before or after your tour, but your journey through the jail itself … which you can only take in the company of a guide … is what brings the history to life. Guides bring you along through stories of individuals, whether unnamed like the five-year-old boy who came in alone and disappeared from records, to the list of famous names that now grace Dublin’s pubs and street signs. 

The heroes of the Easter Rising and the yard in which they met their deaths will be the focal point for most visitors, but I found myself captivated by the women. Grace, mentioned above, was a talented artist forging an independent living as a cartoonist long before women were accepted in the field. She was just 27 when her fiancée was condemned; she bought the ring and talked her way into the jail for

the wedding, and so impressed the jailers that they let her be with Joseph, but under their supervision, for a few hours before the execution They simply sat and stared into each other’s eyes, as there was nothing left to be said.

Poor Grace returned as a prisoner when she ended up on the wrong side in the civil war, and you can see a mural of the Madonna and child she painted in her cell. 

Constance Markievicz is another bold character of her generation, now perhaps best known as the answer to a particularly tricky pub quiz question. The first woman elected to the British parliament, Markievicz, is different from the first to actually take her seat, Nancy Astor. Constance started life as a daughter of the wealthy Anglo-Irish Gore-Booth family, but her politics turned radical and she married a Polish-Ukrainian Count who could fund her activities. She fought alongside the men in the Easter Rebellion and was considered so dangerous she was the only woman put in solidary confinement afterwards. Her sex probably helped her avoid execution; she was given life imprisonment instead, but released in an amnesty in 1917. She went on to be a leading figure in early Irish government.

Grace and Constance are just two of the scores of characters the tour guide brings to life. Idealistic rebels, opportunistic chancers, hardened criminals and the starving stealing to survive all step on stage. The human-driven storytelling elevates something that could be a bewildering foray into dates and historical detail; Irish rebellions were complex, the Anglo-Irish relationship nuanced and the Civil War that followed independence downright byzantine. A different approach could leave your head spinning with dates and details and, and quite possibly, bored.

As a British passport holder I was also rather relieved to find balance in the storytelling. It's easy to spin a cartoonish tale of English baddies and the saintly Irish oppressed, but the narrative is more nuanced here, acknowledging, for example, that crackdowns from London were harder when they were engaged in wars and couldn't risk internal strife, and that the brutal Black and Tans were often traumatized WWI veterans dealing with then-unknown PTSD. The guides aren't dolling out forgiveness, but they are providing context and acknowledging a complicated world.

Kilmainham has another claim to fame as a film set, something that won't surprise you the moment you step into the late-Victorian main hall. The horseshoe-shaped space is known as a panopticon, a place where the guards can see everyone but the inmates are never sure if they're being observed by the guards. Despite its dark purpose, it's actually quite a beautiful building and you're likely to recognise it from its many film appearances. Paddington 2, The Italian Job and the music video for U2's Celebration are amongst the many productions that have contributed to the building's restoration funds.  

Visiting a jail might seem like an odd thing to do on holiday but this one packs a triple punch: a fascinating view into Irish history, interesting and starkly beautiful architecture, and a big hit of pop culture by film set. Most of all, however, it's a great place to listen to the Irish spin some fabulous tales about their predecessors. 

*The Dublin Writers Museum doesn't use an apostrophe. Honest. I checked. Sadly, the Museum has not re-opened since lockdown. I went in the late ‘90s and enjoyed it, but reports say that the old-style displays and niche subject matter did not appeal to a modern museum audience. There’s another thing to support when I win the lottery.

Dublin's Osteria Lucio is Italian food at its finest while The Old Spot delivers Irish tradition

It's been well over a decade since food magazines started celebrating Ireland as a culinary destination, with Ballymaloe Cookery School and the restaurant scene in Kinsale grabbing headlines and gaining international reputations. When you think about great Irish cooking you think about exquisite local ingredients; fresh seafood, grass-fed beef, rich dairy products. You think tradition. What about foreign food? Can Ireland's culinary scene transport you to other shores?

In the case of Italian food, I'll offer a vociferous si! as I tell you about Osteria Lucio, as good as anything I've had in Italy. In fact, it's as good as both Locanda Locatelli and Murano, my two favourite ... and Michelin starred ... Italian restaurants in London. 

We'd been unsuccessful on the waiting list for Chapter One, the Michelin-celebrated restaurant that chef Ross Lewis founded. He stepped back from it last spring just before the restaurant gained its second star. Reports say he was weary of the day-to-day grind under the culinary spotlight and decided to put his efforts into Osteria Lucio, which he'd had an interest in for years but hadn't concentrated on. So, ironically, we got a touch of the magic we were seeking without even realising it. I knew nothing about Lewis, or the Chapter One connection until after our meal; but every colleague I talked food with said that this was the best restaurant in the docklands. How right they were.

Great Italian food is often simple, relying on extraordinary ingredients and cooking methods that coax essential flavours to extremes. It makes you pause in wonder, asking how a tomato, or a mushroom, or a bit of cheese could pack that much of a punch. At Lucio, it was a peach.

My companion started with a roasted peach sat beside an egg of burrata, with a bit of red vermouth dressing below, a dab of rocket pesto and some rocket sprigs scattered across the top. From the look on her face as she took her first bite I knew there was something special going on, and a shared taste confirmed it. I've never had a peach more, well ... peachy ... than that one, warm and soft on the inside but still holding its shape. A perfect, explosive sweetness against the cream of the cheese and the bite of the dressing and pesto. It was perfection. And only perfection could have kicked my own starter into second place. Perfectly cooked, thinly-sliced octopus alternating with equally-sized disks of warm potato, complemented by black olives, tomato and parsley. Like the peach and burrata combo, this was all about balancing flavours: sharp and sweet, rich and light. My friend detests olives, yet admitted they worked beautifully here. 

We moved on to home-made pastas, though the suckling pig for two was tempting and the pizzas coming out of the wood-fired oven looked fabulous. I went for paccheri (short, fat tubes) with lobster, courgette, basil and chilli. Lobster pastas can be hit or miss, given how much can go wrong. It's easy to overcook the lobster, or overwhelm it with other flavours, or lose it completely in the bulk of the pasta. No such problems here, as the local king of shellfish was soft, firm, full of flavour and clearly dominant on the plate. The paccheri added bite, balance and substance. On the other side of the table, some of the prettiest ravioli I've seen formed flowers on a ground of mushroom sauce.

We couldn't resist dessert. Our waiter's favourite was the unusual lemon posset, another miracle of balance between the sharp citrus, smooth dairy, rich pistachio ice cream ( a fine addition!) and sweet strawberries. We also tried the tiramisu, something I rarely do in restaurants because I've rarely had one as good as the recipe I use at home. Mine is labour intensive, with alternating layers of a fussy zabaglione and whipped coffee cream, so impractical for restaurants who consider this an easy mass catering option. Lucio didn't use that zabaglione layer, but the balance of coffee, cake, chocolate and cream was far more sophisticated than the average. 

In addition to great food, Osteria Lucio has a fun atmosphere. It's in one of the few older buildings standing amongst the gleaming offices of the docklands, and its main dining hall snuggles beneath one of the arches of the suburban train line. It's a cozy retreat from the world outside and will be my first reservation the next time I head to Dublin.

The Irish, of course, still do their own food, and our other star of the trip was a gorgeous gastropub near the Aviva Stadium called The Old Spot. The decor is warm and cozy, local memorabilia balancing with some really beautiful works of art capturing landmarks and landscapes nearby. The staff is cheerfully chatty, wonderfully well-informed and incredibly helpful. On our second visit, when we were running late for our reservation because of the over-running football game and feared we'd miss the kitchen closing deadline, they worked with us to get in orders by phone and had the food ready moments after we arrived.

The limited timeline of that second visit means we were limited to burgers. That was no sacrifice as they were exemplars of the art: a juicy meat feast, loaded with extras, local cheese bringing bite to the richness of the protein. And if you don't like thick, crispy, perfect chips, then you can opt into addictive fried shoestring potatoes. 

Earlier in the week we'd had the time to range more freely through the menu, including succulent local oysters with home-made Guinness brown bread, haddock arancini (more Italian influences dressing up what's essentially a tasty fishcake) and grilled duck. We'd also spent time at the bar pre-meal, where the bartender delighted us with a range of local gins and mixers we'd never encountered. They also have a really interesting wine list and staff who will work through it to come up with interesting choices. 

This is another place I'd want to book well in advance of another trip to England. Especially if that trip were for a rugby. Unlike American football, you can accurately predict the end of a match, and it will probably be early enough for a long, leisurely dinner. The Old Spot would be the perfect place to celebrate an English win, or be consoled about the Irish victory by their fine food and hospitality.

So much more than football: Dublin gives Wildcats a weekend for the ages

Why are two American universities playing football in Dublin? I heard the same question from both sides of the Atlantic.

Europeans, whose universities generally treat sport as a bit of extra-curricular fun between lectures, find it hard to grasp the near-professional status of college football and the passionate, life-long allegiance of alumni. Americans understand why Notre Dame might make the effort to play in Ireland, but why
Northwestern and Nebraska? 

Only my Irish friends show no surprise. There have been seven college football classics in Dublin. They understand the cash a well-managed sporting match-up can bring flooding into town, and know they have a well-oiled hospitality infrastructure to handle it. The fact that the Irish Minister of Finance was the ranking local host on the field to start the game told the tale. The Irish are also keenly aware that although there are less than 6 million Irish living on their litttle island, there are nearly 32 million Americans with Irish descent, and most of them dream of visiting the auld sod. 

You don’t have to scratch deep beneath any university’s surface to find the green. Northwestern may have been founded by Anglo-Saxon Methodists, but our beloved football coach is named Pat FitzGerald and our largest alumni donor is billionaire Patrick Ryan, whose Aon Corporation is incorporated in Ireland. Did the latter have anything to do with us being named the home team, despite the fact that our 3,000 visiting fans were outnumbered by Nebraskans more than four to one? I have no idea, but we enjoyed the designation.

In fact, we enjoyed everything Dublin could throw at us. The loving welcome, continual merriment, tribal bonding, genial opposition and flawless organisation ... the only experience I've had that comes close was our trip to the Rugby World Cup in Japan. And this may have been even better. Possibly because the climax of the weekend was an unexpected win from a Northwestern Wildcat team predicted to lose by 13 points, who never gave up in a nail-biting game that was always close and regularly switched the lead. 

It was one of those games where you’re dancing in the aisles and hugging complete strangers. Drenched by beer because of the liquid that went flying as people reacted to wondrous, unexpected plays. The purple love-fest was no doubt fuelled by €500,000 of free concessions given away when digital payment provider SumUp’s networks went down and the stadium decided to keep the hospitality flowing. (There’s much speculation in industry publications about how pro-active troubled SunUp was in the crowd-pleasing solution, but they’ll undoubtably be paying for it.) The 31-28 battle was one of the best sports experiences I’ve ever had, and that includes the Rugby World Cup, Cardinals’ Word Series Games and the London Olympics. It was pure, miraculous joy from start to finish.

And that’s the end of the story.

It started mid-week with Dublin dressing herself as if the city existed only to host our party. The airport sprouted arches and pillars of balloons in purple and white and red and white. Banners hung on lamp posts. Huge signs sat outside Dublin Castle and the Mansion House, the Lord Mayor’s official residence. Pubs and restaurants flew university flags and blew up more balloons. If there was a purple, red or white balloon left in the city by 28 August, I’d be shocked.

Down in Temple Bar, the boozy heart of the entertainment district, each university had official pubs. (Reflecting relative numbers, we had one, Nebraska had three.) FitzSimons had been transformed to “Coach Fitz’s” with new purple hoarding boards outside and an interior wonderland of so many Northwestern flags, assorted bunting, balloons, posters, banners and the like you wondered if there was any decorative gear left in Evanston. Every member of staff wore Northwestern branded hats and shirts. (And I’d bet they made good money off selling the hats to alumni on Sunday, since that particular pattern wasn’t available for purchase and had only been given to people who went on the pricey package tours.)

The first official activity was a pep rally in Merrion Square. This is one of my favourite parts of Dublin: a verdant, partially wooded rectangle surrounded by gracious Georgian townhouses and overlooked on one side by the neoclassical majesty of the National Gallery and the Irish Parliament. Yeats’ house is on one side and Wilde’s on the other, with a marvellously louche statue of Oscar reclining on a boulder welcoming you to the park. Never could I have imagined watching the Northwestern Wildcat Marching Band play along its paths, or linking arms with friends to sing the alma mater into Irish skies. But there we were. A range of luminaries turned up at the pep rally but the only one anyone wanted to hear from was Coach Fitz. Who made promises he’d later deliver on, had us swear we’d out-yell the Nebraskans despite their numbers and solemnly pledged his boys would be taking in the full range of Irish culture for two days after the game. Being Northwestern students, they probably were indeed doing something brainy and worthy in addition to discovering pubs.

Saturday morning brought an invitation-only, pre-game brunch for long-standing university volunteers. While we occasionally get the president, a professor or a university official visiting London, it’s never en masse. It was incredibly exciting to meet up with people I knew but hadn't met, including our fantastically charismatic, outgoing Alumni Board President Larry Irving, and his successor Albert Manzone. (The fact that Manzone splits his time between the U.S. and Switzerland gives me hope of more exciting alumni activities on this side of the pond.) 

The brunch venue was another highlight of the weekend. Trinity College’s sports pavilion sits on a tall plinth overlooking its athletic field, at the back of a series of lovely quadrangles. Surrounded by high walls and academic buildings, it’s hard to believe that you’re in the centre of the city. The sun was shining, the field a dazzling green, the trees danced in a gentle breeze. By 11:30 most of the alumni had bustled off to get a bit of sightseeing in before the game. Not the London club. The pre-paid bar was still open and we had a table in the sun. We stayed until the staff started taking down the purple and closed the tab.

This being Dublin, naturally, there were other places to drink, all decked out as if inviting us to a private party. In O’Donoghues we fell in with the extended family of defensive lineman P.J. Spencer and were willing members of his fan club by the end of the first pint. I was touched by how passionate parents are about the university, how much they love Fitz and our educational ideals. “My son could have gone to a better football school,” P.J.’s mother told me, “but Northwestern is making him a better man.” 

At the Norseman, I struck up a conversation with six Yorkshire lads who’d flown over because they liked
American football and this was a far better deal than the annual NFL match in London. They were making a noble, and hysterically wrong, attempt at Go U, Northwestern from the lyrics card someone had given them. When someone mentioned 3,000 NU fans one of them said “3,006, love. We’re for the underdog.” Outside Buskers I ended up weaving through the Cornhuskers band in full, impressive flow, and some cheerleaders gamely posed with me. (They might not have been so cheerful post game.)

Pre-game, we followed rugby-trained hunches that said there’d be excellent pubs around the Aviva that were better staffed, and less crowded, than Temple Bar. We were right, and soon joined those establishing a purple beachhead at the Ryans Beggars Bush. They looked of an age with me, and sure enough I discovered we were all class of ‘86. Within five minutes we’d established mutual friends, professors we shared and bonded in our distress over the decline of the Greek system (fraternities and sororities).  Best of all, one of my classmates was there with his son, now a proud student, and he came with a whole crowd of his classmates. Multi-generational families would be common in the Nebraska crowd, but it’s far harder to pull off in a school as competitive as Northwestern. I loved the fact that I’d stumbled onto this rare example and that we got to spend some time with young people on campus now. They were bright, dynamic, full of enthusiasm and gave me a sense of optimism that the future is in good hands.

I suspect they, like their elders, were a good deal less bright by Sunday’s post game strolls around town. People wearing purple still exchanged the standard “Go ‘cats!” As they passed, but now it was quieter, with a hoarse croak and a wry, satisfied smile. Those with the most energy were the Dubliners, a surprising number of whom had followed the game and were wishing anyone in purple a hearty congratulations. 

I suppose that this must be what bowl games are like back in the States. But I can’t imagine any city feeling as overwhelmingly supportive of the event as Dublin, nor any citizenry doing hospitality like the Irish. The whole weekend felt like one big, loving, gently boozy hug from a benevolent fellowship of humanity. And that, at least for alumni, is why two American universities played college football in Dublin. The game may be football, but the trappings are the best days of our lives.

Head to the Silicon Docks for a more modern, relaxing and gourmet take on Dublin

You may think you know Dublin. Molly Malone. Temple Bar. Distilleries and breweries. Traditional music and Irish dancers. Museums, poets and James Joyce. That cute bridge over the Liffey. Dublin is an experience that seems to hover someplace in a Georgian-built past un-blighted by religious division, foreign overlords or problematic potatoes. But that’s tourist Dublin. 

Locals give Temple Bar a wide berth and … like any of us and our home towns … sheepishly admit they don’t get to the culture as much as they should. There’s another, very different, Dublin driving the modern Irish economy, and we lived a working week and two glorious weekends in the heart of it. Traditional tourist sights, and therefore traditional tourists, are thin on the ground in Grand Canal Docks, but it’s high on convenience and fabulous restaurants. It’s also within walking distance of both the tourist centre and the Aviva Stadium, which made it a perfect location for the ultimate point of the trip: an American college football match. (Of that, more in my next article.)

Throughout the week, and especially during the action-packed second weekend, we found the quiet sophistication of the Docklands a relief. Dublin city centre is a legendary party zone. We found retreating to the corporate suburbs for our bed and board a welcome counterpoint to all the festivities.

WHERE TO STAY

We took over a houseboat floating inside the docks for nine nights, moored beside McMahon Bridge at Charlotte Quay. The location was superb for our purposes: working weekdays, with the ability to walk into the city centre of an evening if we wished, the Aviva Stadium an equal walk in the other direction. The maritime lodgings were great fun, and cheaper for our group of three than two hotel rooms, but did have some drawbacks.

But first, more positives. The Sunny Barger is charmingly decorated, in beautiful repair and offers more room than you might expect. There’s a sizeable sitting room with galley kitchen, and a “bridge” area where you enter that can seat four at a table when you put the folding one up. It made an excellent shared office for two for the week, with solid broadband that could handle both of us on different conference calls when required. The front had a double mattress with a bit of space to walk around it, and the back two mattresses somewhere between twin and double a bit more like a cocoon you could crawl into. There was a toilet in back, and a bigger bathroom with toilet and a larger-than-expected shower off the sitting room. You could also clamber onto an upper deck above the back bedrooms to sit outside and watch the world go by. 

The weather on our visit was fantastic, which deprived us of the ability to start up up the wood-fired stove and have a cozy night in. We did stay in a few times to consume ready-meals and gourmet titbits from the upscale Fresh grocery across the water, but we sat out on our poop deck and watched the world go by. Our hosts were tremendously helpful, including a mid-stay check in to make sure we had everything we needed and to top up our water.

The drawback, as on any boat, is tight spaces. Large people will have challenges: wide ones squeezing through doors with latches and knobs liable to bruise skin or rip clothing; tall ones required to duck through every door and unable to sit up in any bed. There’s a lot of clambering and scrambling, with multiple changes of level that won’t suit bad knees. I was delighted with my stay, but am perhaps past the age and fitness level where I’d do it again.

WHERE TO EAT

Thanks to all those corporate offices and the Bord Gais Energy Theatre, the Docklands are awash with excellent restaurants and cafes, and I got top tips from my local colleagues. We’d originally imagined we’d be walking into town a lot to hit the traditional venues at night. A quick exploration convinced us there was no need to go anywhere else during the working week. In fact, we never had a dinner in town. Our top picks, Osteria Lucio and The Old Spot, were so excellent they will get their own story. Here’s our round-up of the rest.

Il Valentino - This Italian-style bakery and cafe reminded me of places I knew as a child on “The Hill”, the Italian neighbourhood in St. Louis. Conveniently located just on the other side of the bridge from our house boat and 200 metres from my Dublin office, Il Valentino serves up artisan breads and pastries every morning, with lashings of southern sun. Croissants filled with pistachio cream. Succulent fruit danish. The best cannoli I’ve had anywhere between New York and Sicily. Thank god this isn’t on the way to our London office; I’d be in real trouble.

herbstreet - The Sunday queues and the collection of positive reviews from glossy magazines on their website are a good indication of this place’s popularity with the locals. Our first Sunday brunch experience was so good we immediately booked for the next week. Spicy and sweet bloody marys  and fruity cocktails offer glamorous “hair of the dog” to kill those hangovers. If you like your brunch sweet, there are thick and sticky waffles and stacks of fat, fluffy American pancakes swimming in maple syrup. Or go savoury with rich, comforting eggs Benedict with local ham or spectacular, spicy jumbo shrimp po-boys. Yes, the American spirit runs strong here, but the hospitality, servers and locals are all resolutely Irish.

Charlotte Quay - With a pan-European bistro menu and elegant modern decor, you could be anywhere in the world, and wherever you were you’d be glad to have landed there. Charlotte Quay has a particularly fortunate location. The main docks are “L” shaped; the restaurant sits on the inside corner with frontages looking over the vast majority of the waterway. There’s a generous pavement between building and water hosting a bustling happy hour on weeknights and special events, including weddings, on weekends. I ate here twice, as well … unsurprising as it was stumbling distance from our houseboat. The starters are especially sumptuous and one night we made a meal of just a collection of those, tapas style: deep-fried soft shell crab, tuna tartare, pork croquettes, stone bass ceviche, burrata and heirloom tomatoes. Interesting and wide-ranging wine list. 

The rooftop bar at The Marker Hotel - If money were no object, you’d be staying in this outpost of the luxury Antara chain, and would discover its rooftop options as part of your stay. Most tourists wouldn’t even realise this luxurious resting place with its magnificent views existed. The roof is supposed to be exclusive to hotel guests unless you make reservations, but if you’re a loquacious type who remembers
servers’ names and likes to chat you might be able to talk your way in. And once you’ve been up once, you’re more likely to get in again. I’d recommend it to anyone visiting Dublin. It’s a low-rise town with few vantage points for elevated, sweeping views. The one everyone knows about is the Guinness storehouse. The Marker will cost a bit more but you’ll have better food and be less jammed. Whether it’s the secret nature of the place or the tough admissions policy, the rooftop proved pleasantly uncrowded in an otherwise tourist-packed city. Most tables were full but there was plenty of room between them. Cool jazz plays on the speakers and conversation stays at a low buzz. The whole vibe is marvellously relaxing.

And the views are remarkable. You don’t see much of the city centre from here, but rather the docks below and the intriguing mix of modern architecture, much of it incorporating interesting lighting schemes. Beyond is Dublin Bay, the coast going south and the green hills where suburbia gives way to the Irish countryside. There’s a fun cocktail list (I will be trying to recreate the amaretto cherry sour at home), grazing boards to pair with them and some surprisingly substantial main courses for an outdoor menu; the spare ribs were memorable enough to come back for.

Boutique's more than an adjective: Dublin's Dawson falls short

"Boutique" is the most aspirational adjective in the modern hotel industry. These days, it seems that anyone in the accommodation business who's not a large chain and pays some serious attention to interior design appropriates the term.

Our recent stay at Dublin's Dawson Hotel is a reminder that running a boutique hotel is a lot harder than it seems. True, the description brings with it a desirable customer base willing to pay a premium for their experience. But they also have high expectations, and are probably benchmarking you against some formidable competition. While the Dawson had a fantastic location and looked great, its beauty was only skin deep. It has a long way to go to get near boutique hotels I've reviewed here like South Africa's Birkenhead House Savannah's Brice.

Things started well. It would be hard to better the Dawson's location, on a gracious street full of upscale shops and restaurants that links Trinity College to St. Stephen's Green. Directly across the street is the gracious Georgian facade of the Lord Mayor's residence, Mansion House. After passing under a glass and wrought-iron canopy most likely added by the Victorians, you enter a classic Georgian entry hall and proceed up broad, elegant stairs to the lobby on the first floor. They certainly have the boutique look down, with oversized gold-gilt Georgian and Baroque furniture and luxe fabrics mixed with modern accessories and lighting, and all of the calming neutral wall colours currently in vogue.

We'd upgraded to a junior suite, primarily because we'd booked at short notice and rooms in the city were limited. It was also clear that people in search of peace and quiet should avoid the cheaper rooms facing onto the main street; the Dawson described them as "vibrant", especially on weekends. (Translation: the hotel's bar is just one in a line of trendy establishments that pour loud groups of merry-makers onto the pavements at night. During the day, construction noise and a bus stop for several of the city's hop-on-hop-off tours keep things lively.) Thus the anticipation of almost £200 a night hitting our debit card raised expectations, as well.

The Ares Suite was indeed beautiful, with an enormous bed under a canopy, a fanciful footstool and sofa, a capsule-style coffee maker and a bathroom the size of a double bedroom with a striking free-standing tub. The bed and pillows were comfortable, the linens of top quality, and the room was blessedly quiet. But little things niggled. There was no shaver point in the bathroom, leaving us without the ability to charge our toothbrush. There was an unprepared hole in the wall (perhaps power was on the way?) More frustrating, the bathroom only had dusky mood lighting. Great for a romantic soak, but frustrating for more prosaic business. Surely a luxury boutique could offer two-stage lighting? I appreciated the fridge in the room, but was puzzled to find it hadn't been plugged in (hope nobody arrives with stuff they need to keep cold) and surprised to find it completely empty. A true boutique usually stocks your rooms with a few goodies.

Service was adequate, but lacked the personal interest and the sense of going above and beyond I associate with boutiques. This might have been, in part, because the lobby is off to the side of the main stair. Once you check in, you have no reason to pass through. This means there's little contact with staff. When we did interact, it was efficient but perfunctory. We didn't encounter anyone with a local accent; though it may be an unfair assumption, the whole staff seemed to be from somewhere else, adding to a more corporate, impersonal feel.

Our biggest issue, however, was breakfast. I hadn't confirmed that it was included in the rate, making an assumption that at that price ... and in a country that makes a big deal of its breakfast ... the meal would be part of the experience. And I sense that, under normal circumstances, it is. But we arrived to a notice that the kitchen had been closed due to "unavoidable circumstances". Probably just unfortunate wording, but I immediately imagined a health inspection shut down. The offered a continental breakfast instead. This was a disaster.

Breakfast took place in a bar to the side of the main entrance, primarily free of staff and curiously cluttered with boxes, as if throwing people into the room for breakfast was an afterthought. The breakfast spread ... inelegantly scattered on a side table ... comprised boxed cereal, some fruit, yogurt containers and a stack of sale scones. There was a vat of boiling water and tea bags, but NO COFFEE. And no staff to handle any requests. Climbing upstairs to the lobby, we discovered they would bring us cups from the Nespresso machine there.

I understand kitchen issues. But if you're going to put yourself out there as a luxury boutique hotel, you can do a better job on the continental breakfast. Have a staff member in the room to take care of people. Decant your cereals into glass jars. Lay on some platters of sliced meats and cheeses. Offer a varieties of pastries. Fresh ones. And, for heavens' sake, coffee. Ideally cafetieres or pots for each table so people can linger over their breakfast without having to request the next cup. Lacking all of these things, we sought breakfast elsewhere two of our three mornings.

I wouldn't completely dismiss the Dawson. Its location is extraordinary and the bed was wonderfully comfortable. But all those little issues frustrate when you're presented with a sizeable bill on checkout. Its a hotel that could be great but, right now, it's not fully earning its "boutique" appellation.

Surprise! Dublin's now a credible foodie destination

My culinary expectations of Dublin were low. Unlike Barcelona or San Sebastian, where food research and pre-booking restaurants is part of the holiday planning, It never occurred to me for the Irish capital. I just counted on turning up and tucking into some comforting, traditional pub grub. A famous Irish fry-up to start the day. A burger, or a steak and Guinness pie, to end it. Nothing fancy or expensive.

How wrong I was!

We never did get that fry-up. Our hotel kitchen was out of commission. My favourite breakfast spot of memory, the historic and lavishly decorated Bewley's Oriental Cafe, is closed for a major renovation. The cafe we found on our Sunday morning wander delivered something deeply average. Thankfully, everything else we encountered was a delight ... though a good deal fancier and more expensive than I'd anticipated.

Basing ourselves between St. Stephen's Green and Trinity College turned out to be an inspired choice on the food and drink front. Tempting menus beckoned from a score of establishments within a 5-minute walk. We ended up drawn repeatedly to a small stretch on Merrion Row, where fine options cluster cheek-by-jowl.

O'Donoghues pub is the perfect place to start ... or finish ... any evening thanks to their robust tradition of Irish music. A stone's throw away is Bang, an elegant, modern restaurant with three floors of dining space each open to each other, rising like treads on a spiralling stair. It's earned "plate" accreditation in the Michelin Guide (just below a star) and the accents of the diners on a Saturday night suggest it's a clear favourite with the locals. (We probably should have booked; somehow, we got lucky.)

This is a typical modern, fine-dining establishment, stressing seasonal, local produce and presenting dishes with artistic flair. We were impressed by starters of perfectly-griddled tuna (caramelised on the outside, pink in the centre) with wasabi puree and seared foie gras on house cured duck ham. A short mains menu majors on rich proteins: duck breast, lamb rump, sirloin, halibut. Deserts like chocolate delice with cherry gel and caramel ice cream, or salted caramel parfait with honeycomb and mango sorbet, packed a flavour punch.  Without any planning, we had started very well indeed.

The next night we were across the street and down a few doors at Hugo's, a marvellously cozy French establishment with enough lush fabrics, wooden panelling, mirrors, brass and chandeliers to suggest the heart of the Left Bank rather than Dublin. There's an impressive wine list, offering mostly French options but adding interesting options from around the world, with more than 50 possibiities by the glass ... all at fair prices. As with Bang, there's an emphasis on local sourcing: Dingle Bay Crab, St. Tola's goat's cheese, Kilkeel scallops, Irish beef.  When envisioning comfort food in Ireland I hadn't thought of Tournedos Rossini with a glass of velvety Burgundy, but this is comfort food indeed. The comfort of kings. Hugo's did it as well as I've had anywhere.

A leisurely 15-minute stroll across town, closer to Dublin Castle and in the shadow of the impressive Victorian facade of the George's Street Arcade, we found another pair of delicious and noteworthy restaurants a stone's throw from each other. This time, in both cases, we'd unwittingly fallen into the hands of celebrity chef Dylan McGrath, who owns a cluster of eateries around this obviously trendy area.

Fate seemed to be guiding our steps. Turns out McGrath cut his teeth at L'Ortolan, our local and much-loved Michelin starred restaurant, had earned a star at his own first establishment in Dublin and is now the anchor chef on MasterChef Ireland. If I'd done any research, I probably would have ended up at one of his places anyway. Instead, we wandered into Fade Street Social without any context, in search of Sunday lunch.

The concept here is Irish "tapas": homey favourites given a gourmet twist, served in small, sharable plates. Three choices per person produces a satisfying buffet of a lunch. Chunks of pork belly served crostini-style, beautiful fresh prawns, strips of rare sirloin. The outstanding dish was an amazing crab sandwich cut into soldiers you dipped into an eggshell filled with freshly-made mayonnaise, served with wickedly delicious fries. Turns out there's a regular restaurant, as well (they weren't serving that menu on Sunday afternoon) and a cool, elegant roof bar. My only problem with tapas-style dining, of course, is that I feel you always end up spending more than yo would have for a traditional two courses. But there's no denying that the quality here was exceptional.

The next day, with these three fine dining experiences behind me and still disappointed on the Irish breakfast front, all I wanted was a good, simple burger. Peering in the windows of Brasserie Sixty6, something reminded me of an American diner. A hamburger led the lunch menu. We plunged in. Once settled, I realised the mood was ... as the name implied ... more busy Parisian bistro, with menus chalked up on boards, plush banquettes and lots of mirrors. Though the lunch menu was filled with simple favourites, a drinks menu with a beguiling list of artisan gins and vodkas hinted at a more sophisticated place. The burger, with smoked applewood cheddar, bacon, homemade chutney, three-onion creme fraiche, thick cut chips and aioli, showed off how a simple dish can be elevated to greatness when packed with flavour. It was outstanding. And, at £10, probably the best deal we had while dining out in Dublin. Naturally, there was a hefty list of artisan beers and ciders to go alongside.

We finally got our traditional pub grub on our last night, when we headed out to the Abbey Tavern in
Howth. Though this picturesque coastal village surrounding a ruined abbey feels like rural Ireland, it's only 45 minutes from Dublin, linked by train and a popular neighbourhood for affluent commuters. The "world famous" (according to their web site) Irish pub puts on a show of traditional Irish music and dancing accompanied by a three-course meal from a set menu, followed by Irish coffee. It's a description that screams "tourist trap" and I wasn't expecting much. Somehow, they manage to make the experience feel both intimate and authentic. I wrote about the music in the last entry. On the food front, smoked salmon followed by beef and Guiness pie, with Bailey's cheesecake to finish, was obviously the stuff of mass catering, but flavourful and put together from quality ingredients. Far better than I had anticipated from what I thought would be a tourist factory.

If you get a chance, cast aside your skepticism and head to Howth; the Abbey's Irish Night is an atmospheric summary of the island's hospitality. And it's good to know that, while much of Dublin has gone posh and foodie, the traditional places are still delivering their simple comforts, too.

Ten tips for a top Dublin weekend

Dublin is a perennial favourite for a weekend city break from London ... with good reason.

It's a small place, easily covered in a few days. If you stay anywhere in the city centre and are even marginally fit, everything is walkable. It's loaded with history, is justifiably considered one of the best places to see Georgian architecture and is studded with exquisite parks. The major museums are free.

Most strikingly, it's a place of abundant hospitality. Even after the hard wear of hen and stag dos, Americans searching for their ancestors, partying Six Nations rugby fans and twenty-somethings on the lash ... Dubliners manage to welcome you with open hearts. They start meaningful conversations and seem honestly concerned about helping you to have the best time possible in their fair city. Those pubs are famous for a reason. Somehow, you can feel more like a local in 10 minutes here than you can in a year in your English neighbourhood watering hole. The cozy atmosphere and friendly locals make it, quite possibly, the best city in Europe to go and just "hang out".

I knew Dublin well at the turn of the century, but hadn't visited in about 15 years. Tough years, during which the Celtic Tiger economy crashed and then clawed its way back to life. Most of what I loved about the city remains the same, though I did spot some significant changes.

• Immigrant workers, who had been a trickle in the '00s, now seem to be hovering near a majority of the hospitality workforce. We met a Brazilian waiter, a polish restaurant manager, Southeast Asian bar servers and hotel staff from India. While it's great to see a country that was once unable to find enough opportunity for its own people now with enough jobs to welcome others, they face a challenge. It's hard to carry off that legendary Irish hospitality when the guy bringing your pint of Guinness can barely speak English, much less engage in a merry conversation.

• Money has poured into the city and improvements are under way at an even higher pace than during the height of the .com boom. From the shining new offices in "silicon docks" and modern art installations to the glittering Aviva rugby stadium or the scaffolding sheathing renovations on many an old building, the city feels vibrant and prosperous. The biggest "improvement" will be a tram system in the city centre, but for now most main streets are a nightmare of construction traffic.

• Dublin has gone "foodie". I remembered a city rich with hearty, reasonably-priced comfort food. Traditional fry-ups, steak and Guinness pies, great burgers, beguiling potato dishes. Such menus now seem the exception to a rule of upscale oyster bars, tapas-style grazing, fine dining and ethnic eating. (More on food to come in a separate entry.)

Here are my top 10 picks for a great long weekend in Dublin.

One: Take the Viking Splash tour
At €25 per adult, it's more expensive than other tours and doesn't feature hop-on-hop off. But it's loads of fun, with guides fit for the comedy circuit who also give you a fine overview of 2000+ years of history ... including the Viking age. There are horned Viking helmets for passengers and organised Viking roars at competing buses and unsuspecting locals. With a city centre this small, you don't need the hop-on-hop-off feature, anyway. Do this first, get the lay of the land, and walk back to what you want to visit over the course of the weekend. The "splash" element wasn't as big as I'd imagined. It's just a brief circuit around the basin in "Silicon Docks" rather than a cruise up the Liffey, but the experience of the conversion from land to sea vehicle is fascinating.

Two: Go to the Archaeology branch of the National Museum of Ireland

As in the UK, Ireland's national museums are free, so there's no excuse not to drop in to this treasure trove for a few minutes. And I do mean treasure. The main gallery on the ground floor is devoted to the gold of the pre-historic Celts. Case after case of torcs, earrings, cloak clasps and ceremonial objects to make your jaw drop. Off to one side you'll find "The Treasury", where curators have collected some of the greatest items from pre-history through Vikings and the late middle ages. Upstairs, there's a fine Viking section and more medieval goodies. All in an architecturally striking building attached to the modern parliament. Don't miss the gift shop in the entry rotunda with a particularly good jewellery selection.

Three: Go to a Pub
Go to lots of pubs. This is one of the glories of Ireland. You don't need to be a big drinker to enjoy them. They're about conviviality and fellowship. Even in high-traffic tourist areas they still feel authentic, because they're still filled with locals. No fruit machines, no bad pop music, no remodelling into themed gastropubs. And the locals will talk to you, something that will rarely happen in the UK. You're likely to find some live music .... especially if you head to O'Donoghues on Merrion Row ... which leads me on to my next point.

Four: Make an effort to find traditional Irish music
Some cities just seem more musical than others. Dublin shares with Prague and Vienna a feeling that music is woven in to the soul of the place. You could head to formal concert halls. Riverdance is currently in revival at the Gaiety Theatre. But most pubs lay on live music. Sometimes it's an officially booked band, sometimes a bunch of locals who've brought instruments and are jamming for fun. Check out the Abbey Tavern in Howth, a picturesque coastal village half an hour's train ride from Dublin. The Abbey stages its own singers and dancers in a regular Irish revue. It was a magical night for us as we joined the visiting Maryland State Boychoir. The Abbey's performers invited the boys to sing in return; sitting at their centre as they raised the roof was soul stirring.

Five: More Music ... go to Evensong
Dublin is the only city I've encountered with two cathedrals of the same religion (in this case, the protestant Church of Ireland); a conundrum that embodies much of the odd, fractious, artistic, warm yet contrary spirit of Ireland. Both charge to get in, though neither is particularly special as gothic cathedrals go. So attending an evensong service is a great way to get in for free, take a quick look around and drink in some great atmosphere. (Naturally, I'd encourage you to chuck some money into the collection box in thanks.) Again, we were riding the Maryland State Boychoir's coat tails here, and were lucky enough to hear gorgeous concerts at both St. Patrick's and Christ Church. The first is the National Cathedral, most famous for being under the administration of Jonathan Swift as he wrote blockbusters like Gulliver's Travels. It has an impressive choir area decorated with the remnants of the Order of St. Patrick. Christ Church is older, the cathedral of the City of Dublin, and home to some impressive treasures in the crypt. This includes a collection of plate William III donated to the city after winning the Battle of the Boyne, a point of political discomfort that's probably best kept in the basement. Evensong is usually around 5pm but changes with church and day. Check web sites for details of daily services.

Six: Wander Merrion Square

Dublin is justifiably known for its Georgian architecture. See it in its greatest harmony by taking a relaxing stroll in and around Merrion Square. The soothing, regular lines of the houses are enlivened by their doors, with bold colours, brass ornaments and ornate windows above. In the original design, every fifth house had to have a lantern incorporated into the over-door window to light the street; many survive. Plaques on many buildings show off the history of the great and the good who lived here. In the centre you'll find a marvelous park sunk slightly lower than street level so you wander in a green bowl with the Georgian rooflines framing the sky.

Seven: Hang out with Vermeer
You'll only be able to catch this blockbuster show at the National Gallery of Ireland until 17 September, but it's a good indication of things to come after the museum's €30 million, 6-year renovation. The special exhibition space is now in a purpose-built, modern wing and this show throws down the gauntlet to other European institutions. They've managed to accumulate almost one third of Vermeer's total work (10 of 34), even more impressive when you consider they started with just one and had to talk places like the Met (New York), the Louvre and the Rijksmuseum out of some of their biggest crowd pullers for the summer. The show puts those 10 Vermeers in the wider context of genre painting, illustrating how he and his competitors tackled very similar scenes in different ways. If you're an art lover, it's worth making a trip to Dublin for this alone. Even after it's gone, you'll have the pleasure of free entry into a beautifully renovated collection.

Eight: The Book of Kells
If you want to see it, book in advance and go first thing in the morning. I don't know whether it was the passage of time, or simply that I've never been to Dublin in high summer, but I've never seen the city so crowded. The wait to get into Trinity College Library at 11am on a Tuesday, without pre-booking, was 90 minutes. Trinity itself is one of the stateliest sets of quadrangles you'll ever find, but every inch was crawling with tourists. The buildings, the library and the book are all worth seeing. Just get in and out fast.

Nine: Buy knitwear
Irish woolens used to come in a limited, very traditional range. The designers have swept into the scene in recent years to turn that famous wool into more fashionable stuff. Quirky styles, eye catching patterns, interesting cuts. You can still find plenty of classic, cable-knit crew necks, but there's much more to tempt. The best shopping flight path is a short and direct one. Start at the Avoca on Suffolk Street, just across Grafton from Trinity College, near the main tourism information centre and the statue of Molly Malone. End at the Kilkenny Shop, straight ahead as Suffolk turns into Nassau Street. In between, there are plenty of smaller specialty shops, while the anchors offer a mini mall of clothing, craft and design. Americans benefit from tax free shopping. Brits will find prices only slightly less than at home, but the designs are unique.


Ten: Drink a Guinness
Even if you think you won't like it. Give it a try. It really does taste different here. They say it's the Liffey water. I'd guess it's simply the comfort you'll be feeling after all that hospitality.