As much as he is one of my best friends as he is a relative, my cousin and I share a history for extensive travel; in developing interests for foods from where we'd planted our seeds in the past. Upon returning, as waves of immigrants from Lithuania, Nigeria, China and the Middle East all began to arrive into Dublin durin, returning Irish expats began returning to an Ireland whose food at times they could barely recognize.
Ireland had, within the space of twenty years, undergone the starkest of culinary transformations. No longer could an Irish food industry shaped by the social and cultural ups and downs of history huddle any longer in the shadows of its historical rival -- and another nation notorious for lackluster culinary quality -- Great Britain.
Irish cuisine was forced by immigrants to be transformed from what was once a punchline for bland food and juvenile potato jokes into a nation that could deliver quality meals and impeccable service compared to their Eurozone counterparts. An effort to focus on service detail and competitive motivation all testify to a newfound devotion to deliver quality, affordable Irish food. That -- is the making of today's Irish cuisine. Add the influx of immigrants, and what was foreign to Ireland yesterday is "everyday" today.
As a surplus of jobs in the IT sector began to blossom, and property values skyrocketed so much where commuting patterns from city centers fell victim to the same congestion woes one can attest to in any American city, emigration from Ireland to America, England, Canada and Australia came to a standstill. With a skilled English-speaking population and an abundance of blue-chip jobs, South Asians, Middle Easterners and Filipinos filled a void by the hundreds of thousands for Ireland to sustain its phenomenal economic growth. Known as one of the most welcoming countries in the world, it was a foregone conclusion the Irish would not only begin to embrace the recipes its newly-arrived immigrants brought with them, but infuse the spices of different cuisines with their own. In essence, for the past twenty years -- the Irish youth of today are as familiar with doner kebabs, vindaloos, and all different kinds of South Asian and Middle Eastern dishes as Americans are with spaghetti & meatballs and kung pao chicken.
It'd been a couple of fortnights since I'd had a chance to perambulate nicely marinated along the quays of the Liffey in Temple Bar; cousin in tow. And the one place said cousin had been insisting for months I try was Zaytoon. According to him, to capture the true effect -- the "zen", if you will, of dining at Zaytoon was to order the extraordinary doner kebab, sip a delicious hot cuppa, and in due course attain zen. This, I can attest, was achieved on Parliament Street.
Just getting off the plane from New York, I couldn't wait to get my hands on any "Irish" food; and by that I mean the most quintessential of all Irish plates: the Irish breakfast, or "fry". Consisting of eggs, rashers, black and white pudding (c/o my beloved aunt), there couldn't be a person on the planet -- vegan; lactose-intolerants; eunuchs - that would turn down my aunt's breakfast -- or be Jaysus, you're only to be pitied if you do. But with the influx of immigrants to Ireland today, dishes such as "curry & chips" and "doner kebabs" might now be deemed just as Irish as the more traditional counterparts of a newspaper wrap of ray & chips straight from the Italian-owned chipper seemingly on every corner. Abrakebabra, a fast-food kebab franchise established in Ireland during the 1990s, is just one more example of Ireland's culinary transformation. Abrakebabra is one more example of an "Irish" restaurant, serving "Irish" dishes like curry & chips, vindaloo & chips, and so forth.
In any case, five lagers into our bacchanalian junket, my moment of truth arrived to test my cousin's opinion and see if this Zaytoon's was worth its salt. I'm happy to say, the man nor Zaytoon let me down. With a friendly waitstaff at the ready to take my order from a relatively pristine counter -- considering some of the inebriated, collegian riff-raff loitering around the counter, I did like a Roman and went with the #1: the Doner Kebab -- but with a little extra meat. You see, I'm a large man who suffers fits of delirium if I'm not fed a little bit more than my dinner table consortium.
Upon receiving this flatbreaded combination, I was about to make way for the table and commence with my assignment when said cousin admonishes me: "Jaysus, where d'ya t'ink yer goin'? Ye need yer cuppa tea, ye iigit, ye!" That said, I grabbed my cuppa and hit the table with the exhaustion of Bruce Jenner after finishing a 500-meter.
To say this was just any ordinary doner kebab would be an egregious oversight to the waitstaff that seemed to have made every effort to prepare an exceptionally delicious meal. I'm telling you, Dublin: if you're in Temple Bar after a few jars, Zaytoon read more