Just the name makes me happy. Salivating over the pastries sends me into ecstasy.
First I did the responsible thing: Irish brown bread for breakfast, which I’ve always loved. Nobody makes bread like the Irish, in my opinion.
Then the temptations. Drooled over hot scones with pure Irish butter. Irish shortbread, yum. Caramel shortcake, even better. Settled on the custard tart. Then Irish whiskey and gin. No wait, that’s not pastry! But it’s offered every 50 feet or so, here at Dublin airport. How can one resist?
Stop by for a drink? Two? Three? All morning until your flight leaves?
"Free sample will come with a smile, I promise."
Whiffs of honey and hints of toffee aside, here is my totally inexpert analysis:
Glendalough whiskey--too light and airy
Kilbeggan traditional Irish whiskey--nah
Tyrconnell single malt--better, smoother
Spirit of Gin--nah; they say hints of florals but I’m not buying it
Glendalough gin--yes! Botanicals from the Wicklow bogs! Totally herbal! Maybe it even contains vitamins! I'm not a gin fan, but I could drink this.
Who knew there were so many Irish whiskies? Or so many indulgent ways to miss your connecting flight?
Feeling the need to balance all those delicious delicacies with something reasonably nutritious, I toddled (wobbled) over to the salad bar. Even though I wasn’t hungry. Just happy.
Beets can make one happy, too, I suppose.
Lest you think I am overindulging, keep this in mind: got two hours sleep on the overnight flight, another hour on the cold hard tile floor of the Dublin airport terminal (at 5 am, when no one was around, and before they kicked me out for the morning “security sweep”).
My travel-size mini Thermarest self-inflating air mattress has turned out to be a great investment for both hard hostel bunks and airport floors. But the noise of passengers rushing by was troublesome.
Don’t you think I deserve a little respite and refresher?