Cork

After Highbanks Orchard, we turned the car south toward Cork. We had been told that Cork would be gritty. Maybe so, but it was hard to tell as we pulled in to the City, thick with traffic as a steady, chilly rain fell. Our hotel, The River Lee, in contrast to the lovely historic, Clarence, in Dublin, was glassy and modern. I was here to see the famous English Market, and that night, we would be served a tasting menu based on products made by the artisans based in the market. 

Roz had said that folks were "excited" about my tour and that I could expect nice accommodation upgrades. I definitely did not expect anything, but was really pleased to see that the hotel had gone to lengths to ensure our happiness. The room overlooked the rushing river and the expanse of historic Cork beyond. The view was beautiful, the hotel, well located, and the service, was superb. 

Ireland delivers excellent customer service everywhere. Or, atleast that has been my experience. People are genuinely friendly, focused on ensuring one's pleasure.

I surely tested the patience of a bartender at The Bank in Dublin when, during a particularly busy moment, I asked him to explain the ins and outs of various whiskeys.  He might have been annoyed. But instead, he not only helped me to decide, but he also brought me a tray with a cup of ice and a pitcher of water so that I might mix my own whiskey on the rocks. All this, and no tip required or expected. In Ireland, servers are professionals and paid a decent minimum wage.

Cork, for some odd reason, reminded me of Baltimore. Like elsewhere in Ireland, the old buildings have been well preserved. That is not to say that it is gentrified. Quite the contrary. Ireland in general is not gentrified. One has a feeling that Ireland is if and for the common man--accessible, affordable and thriving, much like it might have been decades ago. The downtown shopping areas were bustling, and to the extent that there are new shopping malls, they are built into the existing fabric of the City, ensuring that the downtown remains vibrant.

There is also a curious lack of anything that remotely resembles a suburb. The urban fabric gives way to the rural, almost in a blink of an eye. New developments are designed with density in mind, ensuring that the countryside and its bucolic views are well preserved. 

The English Market did not disappoint. And once again, I was reminded of Baltimore, this time of Lexington  Market, and what it might have been like in its former glory. Vendor after vendor displayed gorgeous charcuteries, meats, cheeses, and fish and shoppers poured through the arcade, there to gawk, like ourselves, or to make their purchases. We managed to get a coveted table at the Garden Gate Cafe, located upstairs in the market featuring products from the market. Once again, I was reminded of the advantage of traveling in the winter, when the crowds are thinned out and the restaurants are accessible.

Since it was a gorgeous day for a walk, and because the theme of the trip was food, we decided to visit the Butter Museum. Technically closed and under construction, the easy going museum docents welcomed us in after exacting a promise that we would not sue them for any mishaps.  This, as it turned out, was a highlight of Cork. While the collection itself was, well, a little hokey, the guide entertained us for nearly an hour, explaining how to make butter, providing all sorts of interesting historical facts, while making his point about the importance of branding to establish a market for farm products. Ireland is synonymous with butter, and that yellow color? It results from the cows eating bonafide grass.