I am sorry to say that you cannot get decent coffee in Ireland. I’ve tried everything. The coffee served at my hotel in Dublin was so bad that on the third morning I went to the bar and ordered an espresso and then watched as the lovely young woman pulled a shot that tasted like that godawful chicory concoction they serve in the South.
The next morning I ordered breakfast then hurried down the street to a coffee bar and ordered a latte that must have been made with the leftover malted barley from Guinness. The Irish don’t seem to have heard of fresh roasted coffee beans. Or maybe they’re using Nescafe in their espresso machines. Hard to say.
This morning in the dining room of the Castlemartyr resort, I asked Emilie, my waitress, to tell me honestly if they knew how to make good coffee.
Oh we do, she said brightly. People say it’s the best in Ireland. French press, she boasted. Steeped for a full three minutes.
So I ordered it. It was hot. It was ebony. And it tasted like ashes.
So now I’m done ordering coffee in Ireland. Forever more. From now on, it’s tea for breakfast. Even though Irish tea is basically just a cup of Lipton’s. Better yet, from now on when I feel like a cup of coffee maybe I’ll just wander down to the local pub and get a Guinness. It’s just as dark and about the same temperature as a cup of Irish coffee.
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