Skip to main content

Driving, and The Merry Ploughboy

Most of this day was spent driving.  I was hoping that we would be able to attend church in either Germany, or Ireland, but with limited flights out of Frankfurt-Hahn, I couldn't make it work.  However, I believe one of our most memorable moments of the trip happened this day (at least for me).

We drove from Rothenburg back to Frankfurt-Hahn, a three hour drive, caught our plane back to Kerry airport, and then drove the four hours to Dublin.  I had bought tickets for a show that I've tried to book before but had never worked into our schedule:  dinner and a show at The Merry Ploughboy.

The Merry Ploughboy is an Irish pub owned completely by musicians.  Let me repeat that:  it is OWNED by MUSICIANS.  Honestly, it's a wonder that it's even viable as a business, knowing how poorly musicians tend to mange things.  However, they have made it work.


The pub is just any old pub on the main floor, but the top floor is where the magic happens.  After walking up a flight of stairs, we entered a large open room, filled with tables and a stage.  We were a few minutes late, seeing as the GPS couldn't quite find the place, but we were seated and our orders were taken right away.

I know it might be ridiculous to do this, but I have to mention the menu. Here were our options:

For starters, either a salad entitled "Goat's Cheese" which was (according to the menu) Bluebell Falls honey, thyme & garlic goats cheese, pickled baby beets, dressed organic mesculan, and sourdough croute; a homemade seafood chowder served with Irish brown bread; or root vegetable soup (also served with brown bread).

Oh goodness, my mouth is already watering.

And then for the main courses (unfortunately, we could only choose one):  Irish angus beef, Irish sea trout, Limerick chicken, or shank of lamb.  And all of these had delectable descriptions as well.

And for dessert, there was no choice:  Irish Bramley apple pie with cinnamon anglaise.

We probably would have been happy with just that, seeing as you can't eat anywhere in Ireland without leaving completely satisfied, but there was still the show.

What I love about this place is that it's not random Irish persons playing music that might or might not be typically Irish (and where we are expected to order several rounds of alcohol while listening).  It was Irish musicians, playing Irish music.  Some of the music we knew, some we didn't.  And you never know who will be playing what instruments on any given night, but they make the ensemble work however it goes.

It was a good hour of music.  Such good music.




And just when we thought it was over, junior (teenage) Irish dancers came out and entertained us for a long while:


I mean, c'mon, what more can you ask for from Ireland?

When it was all over, many people stayed.  I couldn't blame them.  The room was so warm and toasty and inviting, and the Guinness was flowing.  However, we had had a long day...and we don't drink...so we were off!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Like Dominos....

It all began with glare.  Simple, obnoxious, I-can't-stand-it-anymore glare. Our 60" rear projection TV in the family room was basically unviewable except after 10 o'clock at night.  The glare from the windows was making it impossible to see anything during my 10 minute lunch break each day, and something had to change. Too, the TV didn't fit in the entertainment center from Germany.  John, wanting bigger and better, hadn't considered that the space is only 40" wide.  For the past five years, I have been nagged by 6" of overhang on both sides of the TV stand. I went to Lowe's to price blinds.  $1,043 for five blinds, and that was at 20% off. I figured a new TV would be cheaper than that.  I was right, even with the state-of-the-art receiver and new HDMI cables that sly salesman told us we needed to have. But where to put the old TV?  It just needed a quiet, dark place to retire. Glo's bedroom.  Her TV was a relic from the paleoneoneand...

The Quest for Birkenstocks

One of the main reasons I go to Germany every couple of years is to restock my supply of Birkenstocks.  I started buying them when I lived there, and I basically can't live without them now.  It just about kills me when a pair runs its course and needs to be thrown away.  I think in my lifetime, I've thrown away only three pairs.  One that never was quite right (the straps were plastic and would cut into my skin after a long day), one pair that I wore gardening one too many times (the brown dirt stains wouldn't come out of the white leather), and the pair that I was wearing when I broke my ankle (they were an unfortunate casualty of broken ankle PTSD because those purple and blue paisleys go down as one of my favorite pairs of all time).  I only threw out the garden ones a couple of days before I left for Germany, because I knew I would be getting a new pair. The only store where I have ever bought my Birkenstocks is Hoffmann's in Speicher.  (Well okay, t...

Thinking Beyond Ourselves

In our church, most adults hold a “calling”.  What this really means is they have a job, or a specific way to serve within the local congregation.  We believe that this calling is inspired from God—it’s a specific way that he wants us to serve, so that we can either learn and grow ourselves, or so that we can help someone else. I have had more callings in the church than I can count, and with few exceptions, I have loved every one of them.  I have come to love people (adults, teens and kids) who I might never have met.  I have learned much--from how to organize a Christmas music program, to how to make a Sunday School lesson meaningful to apathetic teenagers.  I have served as president of the children’s organization, and I have been the leader of 30 young, single adults. With every calling comes a lot of work.  Of course, the amount of work one puts into a calling is up to an individual.  I choose to put everything into a calling.  I give up ho...