Last week as I rode the bus from the airport to downtown Dublin I searched for something, anything, to jog my memory from a visit 45 years ago.
Fresh out of high school and ready to see more of the world, two friends and I flew to London and a couple of days later we were in Liverpool, boarding a ferry to Dublin.
In our pre internet travel research (mostly reading Europe on 5 Dollars a Day) we had learned that backpackers always visited breweries that offered tours, and Guinness would be our first chance. After a rough overnight crossing of the Irish Sea we eventually made our way under grey skies to the brewery, which was a like a walled city, with some 6,000 employees working there. It even had a school for employees’ children.
We had a great tour and learned a lot, and then, as promised, we were ushered into a pub-like room for our free beers. My friend Sam and I had tried bottles of Guinness before as research for our trip, but it was not very good. The experience of having a properly pulled pint of draft Guinness, though, was unforgettable, and I have not forgotten the process. Start with a chilled glass, then tilt it under the tap at about 45 degrees, easing it into a vertical position as the stout pours slowly. Release the tap just before it starts to overflow, then let the glass (which, for me, holds a pint— smaller glasses are available, but I don’t get the point!) sit for several minutes on the counter until the gases in the liquid rise to create a thick foam head and the colour of the beer turns to dark chocolate brown). Top it up from the tap and serve. It is not presented as cold as the beer we get in Canadian pubs. And a shamrock embossed in the foam by the bartender should stay visible after the glass is emptied.
From the view out of the bus window t hrough Dublin on Friday I saw nothing to jog any memories (and I forgot to re-read my journal entries from 1972 before I left on this trip) until I saw those high grey-brown brick walls. I left directly on a train for Killarney, spent the night there and then picked up a rental car to get over to County Kerry and check into my room for a week’s stay in Caitin’s Pub, on the southeast coast or, as it has been rebranded, The Wild Atlantic Way. My room provides a view across Dingle Bay to the Dingle Peninsula.
I was the first customer in the pub downstairs when it opened on Friday night and Pat, the father of the man who now operates this business, explained that Caitin’s has been in the family for four generations, and a sister business two miles up the road, now with a restaurant, gift shop, grocery store and gas pumps, has been owned by the Golden family for seven generations. Pat pulled my pint of Guinness in just the way I remembered, then smiled and asked if I would like a drink while I waited. With no need to drive home I asked for a shot of whiskey. We continued our chat as customers slowly filtered in, as did Pat’s son, Jack, who now operates Caitin’s, and Jack’s brother Paddy, who took over behind the bar.
At one point, in what had become a group conversation, I kidded Pat about my disappointment at having seen an Irishman pour himself a shot of Cognac to go with his Guinness.
“It’s medicinal,” he grinned, adding, “I don’t think you miss a thing, do you Lorne? That’s why you are a newspaperman.”
I demurred, saying I tried, but surely there are things that I do not notice.”
“No, I don’t think you miss a thing. Paddy, tell Lorne about the slow draw.”
Without missing a beat, Paddy told a story about a bartender’s response to a customer who asked for a pint of Guinness.
“Do you want a slow draw or a fast draw?” he asked. He explained when asked what the difference is. “Well, a slow draw is when the pour is done very slowly into a chilled glass, then left to settle so a thick head forms before it is topped up. Done properly, it takes several minutes. A fast draw is poured quickly until it overflows the glass, then is pushed over to the customer while it continues to fizz over. It tastes gassy and is not smooth, like Guinness should be.”
“Well, I’d like a slow draw then.” “Right you are, then. Now, would you like a fast draw while you wait?”
I smiled at Pat and explained to the others in the group that he had done much the same with me, except that he had tempted me with a shot of whiskey rather than a fast draw. Good salesmanship it was I added.
“As I said, Lorne, you don’t miss a thing, do you?”