Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Bring Me Back Something French Part Three: Corn on the Cobh

Oh hai, patient and gentle readers. Yeah, I'll admit I've been awful about posting, but life gets in the way, y'all! Trapped in my house for renovations which I promise to write about once it's done and I can  get some perspective on it/ appreciate it (because right now, the hubs, the dog and I are all crazy grouchers right now).

But back to Europe. Cobh, Ireland to be specific. After our idiotic bus ride to Paris the day before, Matt and I opted out of the two hour bus ride into Cork, and instead went meandering through the extremely steep hills of this tiny town.
Is this the Eiffel Tower?

After touring the whole town in about 45 minutes, we grabbed some awesome Irish grub before getting our drink on.

Needs more gravy, OBVIOUSLY.
All Fish N Chips should be this good.
But honestly, this is everything you need to know about Irish food:
Brown is a flavor. A delicious, confusing flavor.
So with fully bellies we waddled towards the local pub, but not before stopping so I could literally stare down the barrel of a canon:
Item officially checked off the bucket list.
Which would have been the photo-translation of what would have happened if we walked into this crazed soccer fan members only bar...

Nope, nope, nope. Great name though.
We decided to go where all the locals go (and don't chase out tourists with bats and broken whiskey bottles, I mean what a waste of whiskey, right?). I present you with Kelly's Tavern.
Ahh Ireland, where it is completely normal to spend 5-6 hours drinking in a place that serves no food.

Hello, gorgeous.
Commence All-Day Drinking!

Don't judge me while I chug this Murphy's Stout.
After a few ales, the hubs got artsy on some coasters….

My lil artist.

Every beer needs a crazy face right? Because they have heads!! Get it? Where are you going?

The waitress did us the courtesy of not throwing them out right away but she did flip the majority over while shaking her head.

And just when our exchanged money pile was getting low, who should step in and declare me his soulmate and next bride to be (despite the fact that I'm married and my husband was right there with me)? 
Paddy O'Keefe. Actual Town Drunk. 
Confirmed by bartender, who has Paddy's daughter's cell 
programmed into the house phone.
Ah Paddy, wisest of all drunks. He bought us beers, ciders, and whiskey for hours, and refused to let us buy him anything.

He constantly exclaimed "I'm Langers!" which is slang for drunk, and offered me pieces of his late wife's jewelry which I did not take, because he was, as previously stated, langers. The sweetest thing about him was that since his wife died of cancer 8 years ago, he has worn her favorite pieces of jewelry every day, despite being called more blinged out than Liberace. He balanced the look out with denim from head to toe, naturally. 

Every sentence started with " Look, I know I'm an idiot…" and ended with  "…but I'm smarter than all these idiots here". He kept calling Matt my boyfriend, and when I corrected him each time, he would shush me and kiss me on the cheek. Several proposals followed. But the best advice he gave (several times), we actually had him write down on a scrap of paper and sign. It now adorns our fridge so we can see it everyday….
Sorry for the expletive on the blog, mom, but it's a quote! 
Did we end the day holding up a 70 year old man as he fell off his barstool? You bet, but at least we didn't have to go to this shop to get him a ride home!
Such a specific niche...

 So even though this stop was not one we had high expectations for, it ended up being one of the best experiences of the whole trip. I would go back in a heartbeat, and probably will go back because I doubt Paddy wants a wedding in the US….sorry Matt.

Later Readers!

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