IT’S nice to get away by yourself sometimes, isn’t it? To escape the constant demands on your time and attention. To release your mind from the chains that tether it. To switch off your phone, ignore your emails, give Facebook the cold shoulder, and put the world on mute. Get out of the city. Fill your lungs with clean air. Let your soul and spirit soar.
It’s also good for your loved ones, too, of course. Those poor folks who have to live with you (I mean me; I don’t know you), who have to put up with your wittering nonsense, with your stupid jokes, with your verbalising every single last inane notion that pops into your tiny brain. Without screaming. Or sometimes with screaming, come to think of it.
Banished is too strong a word; suggested is maybe too weak. Let’s pitch it somewhere between begged and pleaded. However you might phrase it, we’d reached the point in the holiday where it was decided I needed some me time. I could go anywhere, so long as it wasn’t here.
And so it was I set out on my tod to Burtonport, on the west coast of Donegal, intent on trying the Lobster Pot. I’d had it in mind ever since I saw it on a TV show, where Daniel O’Donnell was singing its praises. Quite why that alone should be enough to get me there, I don’t know. The magic of celebrity endorsement, I guess. Still, it’s not as if I’d spotted a recommendation from Hannibal Lecter on Tripadvisor, so, even though Nathan Carter is more my groove, it was to the Lobster Pot I headed.
And it was shut. The closest thing to a sign of life was the giant plastic lobster clinging to the outside wall.
This was a blessing in disguise, as it happens, because it turned out the ferry to Arranmore was shortly due to leave, so I snaffled a ticket and went aboard. The restaurant was bound to be open when I got back, and a bit of sea air would only sharpen the appetite.
If you’re going to go to the Lobster Pot, this is the way to do it. If you manage to grab a day when the weather is as beautiful as it was for me, so much the better. The ferry to the island goes past architect-designed second homes for the rich, and crumbling hovels providing a reminder of how life used to be.
I drove round the island, stopping at intervals to gaze in wonder out across the vast ocean, and then I had a paddle in its cold waters, convincing myself I was sorry I’d not brought my trunks.
And when I got back to Burtonport, the Lobster Pot was open. It’s a lovely, friendly place, with a good range of beers and an equally wide range of football shirts and pennants on the walls.
Having made an offering of the Everton air-freshener hanging from my rear view mirror, I looked over the menu. Despite the fact that crab claws sounds like a nasty medical condition, I chose this dish to start. Five or six of the little nippers arrived, warmed in hot melted butter.
I have never had these before, and made the mistake of trying to work the meat out using cutlery, before realising that the best method was to shove the thing in my gob and munch off the meat. Dainty, it wasn’t. But it was so tasty – sweet, fresh meat, magically full of both strength and delicacy, run through with the rich butter. Gorgeous.
Given I was alone, sole might have been more appropriate, but the catch of the day was hake, and I chose to have this grilled, rather than battered and fried. It was the right choice. Keep it simple and you keep it delicious.
Like the crab, the beautiful, delicate flavour of the fish was allowed to shine. And it went so well with the marrowfat peas and the wonderfully textured, floury boiled potato.
This was lovely, familiar, homely cooking. No rich sauces, no fancy jus, no unnecessary ingredients; just everything fresh and good and proper and lovely.
I might even try some of Daniel O’Donnell’s records now.
THE BILL
Starters: Crab claws – €9.50
Mains:
Fisherman’s catch – €12.95
Side salad – €3.50
Drinks:
Diet Coke x 2 – €4.60
Sparkling water – €2.30
Total: €32.85 (£28.23)
The Lobster Pot,
Burtonport,
Co Donegal
00 353 7495 42012
