Ireland: A Drama in 4 Acts

Dramatis Personae

H J Narrator -- Generic Protagonist, Wholesome Adventurer

Ms Sheppard -- Teacher of Reception Class, Trip Co-ordinator

Alison Clovertub McGarvey -- Wild Child, General Touchstone for What's Cool

Sister Rosa Siobhan O'Neill -- Inmate of the Margaret B Catholic Institute for Women

Act 1: Ale

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8eOIU9ekSMk

It turns out they weren't lying.

Every time I mentioned to someone that I was going to Ireland, they commented on the quality of the Guinness and the quantity of rain. Smooth and creamy, and lots of it – respectively. Or maybe both apply to Guinness?

Well, however much you choose to drink, it turns out it's true. From Tuesday through Sunday, we visited Ireland's emerald pastures - and, of course, its drinking holes, where Guinness flows like milk, and milk flows like water. The blessèd Sister Rosa Siobhan O'Neill, our resident potato-fiend and staunch cider-loyalist was a near-instant convert to the deliciously malty, peaty and tanniny meal of a drink.

CHIN CHIN !

According to our friend Shane from Hidden Connemara, Guinness in Ireland tastes better simply because it's consumed more often, meaning that it's always fresh and residue doesn't have time to build up in the pumps or pipes. I admit: my idea of how pints works is fairly limited as I've only ever been on the receiving end, but this seems plausible.

But does the 'authentic' pint only taste so awesome because you're in Temple Bar, less than a few kilometres from the symbolic birthplace of the sacred liquor, because there's a live band playing Whiskey in the Jar in the corner? Or because exams are over forever, you're on holiday, and no ale, however bad, could do any wrong?

Thus the voice of my inner sceptic raged within me, as I tried to remember how the last pint of Guinness I'd had in the UK had tasted. Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, and everything's subjective, etc, etc. I'd probably last had Guinness in a cake, or extra-cold, or something. Yet in spite of all these doubts, Guinness in Ireland was just a little bit like ambrosia: the milk (or custard) of the Gods.

I think there's something to be said both for the freshness of the brew (of Guinness in particular) and for the quality of Irish ales (in general). In Galway we tried drinks produced by a company called Galway Bay Brewery (@brewersonthebay): a smooth porter-style ale, subtitled 'Stormy Port', which lacked the bitterness you sometimes get with a stout – and a vibrant red ale, which was everything you'd want it to be: peaty, but not boggy; fruity, but not in-your-face-with-raspberries-and-citruses; long and refreshing.

In short, it's not just true that Guinness tastes better in Ireland, but also that the Irish really do know what they're doing with their beer.

End of Act 1. Curtains.

As the audience begins to chatter, Sister O'Neill bursts on stage in a dramatic tour de force, proclaiming that http://www.foxnews.com/leisure/2012/03/12/top-10-irish-beers/ is worth checking out, too.

Fin.