
An hour train ride north took us to the fishing town of Howth (rhymes with both). Folks have been living in Howth since 4000 BC but it didn't become a thriving fishing village and port until the 12th century. But, I like picturing the Howth of the 17th century, a time when it was frequented by pirates roaming the Dublin bay looking to make off with other people's treasures. The sleepy feeling of the village may have had as much to do with the day's downpour than any current state of the area. We braved the sloppy weather and walked to the end of the pier.

To our left were the fishing boats bobbing in the water, to the right every manner of fish store imaginable. The storefronts offered fish sellers, suppliers, producers (a tad presumptuous), merchants and mongers. For some reason the fishmonger captured my attention. Monger comes from the latin word mango meaning dealer. But I wonder why these days there are only a certain few mongers, fish and cheese come to mind. You don't have meat mongers for example (have I mentioned there are LOTS of butcher shops here?).

Anyways, cold and wet from the rain we headed back towards the village for a little lunch and a chance to dry off and warm up. We talked about fish and chips and decided on a pub called the Abbey Tavern since it had big raging wood burning fires that we could sit by. Unfortunately they didn't offer traditional fish and chips but we were so excited by the thought of the fire that we were drawn in anyways figuring any food by the warmth of the fire would be good. We were wrong. Mark ordered the corned beef and cabbage, I opted for a very strong Irish coffee and a bowl of vegetable soup. Mark says and I quote "that was the shittiest lunch I've had in a long time."
So it was a great pub for ambiance but not for food, our bad for not ordering the fish.
We had hoped for more of an outing in Howth. But after our bad lunch the rain had worsened. So we called Howth a wash and scurried back to the warmth and cover of the train ride home.
1 comment:
Now I'm curious about the fruit we call a mango. Was it discovered by a fisherman who first bought one off a fruitmonger? I must admit I've never seen or heard of cheesemongers; are they uniquely Irish? Glad you continue to learn useful lessons as you travel the world. Eating fish in a village famous for its fishmongers does seem like a no-brainer...but then I wasn't the one who was wet and cold and wanting comfort food...
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