I doubt that I will ever become a true locavore.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for the principles of eating (and drinking) locally, when and where possible, but I am ever appreciative of the ease with which we can import that which is neither cultivated nor produced here. Potato-heavy though my diet (naturally) is, I think that I would find it impossible to confine myself solely to the food and drink which emanates from within our Irish borders. Or would I?
Patrick Guilbaud took my hand warmly, as an old friend might.
He hoped that I had enjoyed my meal. “Ah, that dessert with the rosé…” he murmured, clearly reliving the pleasure of it in his own mind.
I, in return, gushed. My first time to eat at Guilbaud’s and, yes, the dessert course had been as sublime a pairing of food and wine as I have had the privilege of tasting. The rest of the meal I might add (in a clear triumph of understatement) was none too shabby either.
What you would call some very serious eats...
...and the drinks to match