A proper pint of Guinness, thick slices of brown bread, and half a dozen Carlingford oysters at PJ O’Hare’s. This is what I think of when I hear the phrase ‘holy trinity.’
Back in Ireland, I’m up on Slieve Foye for one last look at the lough. I’m sad though: summer is over. And I don’t want to be the donkey.
CARLINGFORD:Â I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of watching the sun rise over Carlingford Loch.Â In this photo you can just make out the oyster beds partially submerged in the foreground.Â The village is famous (in Ireland) for its oysters, and one of my favorite meals entails a dozen of those local pearly mollusks on ice and a creamy pint of Guinness at PJ O’Hare’s.Â If the rain is lashing down sideways in typical Irish fashion and there’s a peat fire blazing, more’s the better.
NETHERLANDS:Â Â Amsterdam is one of those cities – like St. Petersburg and Paris – that is so strikingly beautiful in design and composition that you can spend minute after hour after day just wandering the streets and soaking it up like a sponge.Â Plus, there’s the light.Â What is it about the Flemish light?Â Could it be that the humidity from the surrounding seas causes the light to diffuse and bathe everything in its beatific glow?Â Whatever it is, it’s breathtaking to behold.
For years I have resisted writing about Ireland because it’s where I go to tune out, turn off, and talk to the sheep. Â The thought of anyone else finding out about my secret corner of County Louth makes me shudder. Â So imagine my surprise a few weeks ago to find the New York Times travel section calling “my” little medieval town of Carlingford “one of the new Eden’s”! Â I guess the cat is now out of the bag; so I might as well share a few images taken by my good friend, the photographer Lyn Hughes, who was privileged not only to be allowed a visit this summer, but also to sample my plum crumble.