This week, the announcement was made that Jackie Lennox, a staple on Bandon Road in Cork, will be shutting its doors on the 6th of October. Even though Cork natives can spend days debating which chip shop is the supreme, everyone acknowledges the singularity of Jackie Lennox.
In no uncertain terms, Jackie’s is quintessential Cork.
Growing up, Jackie’s wasn’t a regular occurrence given the fact our farm was situated approximately 30 miles outside of Cork. It was a special occasion when the family visited the city. An experience so worth sharing with classmates the following day.
The anticipation of joining the line, nervously rehearsing your order in your head, concerned of loudly making a mistake and eternally being dubbed a fool.
The staff would approach the register and ask, ‘Who’s next?’, taking multiple orders and memorising them simultaneously. I was amazed at how they achieved this and I made sure I was ready when my turn came.
There was a life-sized doggy bank model for the Guide Dogs next to the cash register.
I cherish the memory of being hoisted on to the counter by my father, gift me a little fork and serving me a portion of steaming hot chips.
I loved seeing the cooked items materialise, patiently awaiting the server at the front of the shop to package the orders. Listening to them occasionally holler into the kitchen to request a late potato pie, a fish or a battered sausage.
Batches of deliciously golden, fresh fried chips would be transferred and poised for serving.
The newspaper wrapping being folded and rolled around the meal. ‘Would you like salt and vinegar?’
Slyly slipping a few salt packets into my pocket, ready for the car journey home.
Indulging in our chips under the cover of darkness, parked in Dad’s old Land Rover outside the shop. If we were in mum’s car, we would roll down the windows to let the aroma of the chips dissipate to avoid detection.
Learnt to fold the newspaper in such a way that no food would escape while sipping milk from a flimsy plastic pint bottle, the foil lid punctured by a thumb.
After relocating to the city and enrolling in UCC, I would splurge on a bag of chips and a can of Lilt, when I had the means.
From time to time, testing out new food offerings, before reverting to my standard selection of a batter burger, fries, and a box of curry is a common practice. It’s crucial not to tamper with what is proven to work. Everyone has their individualised preference.
There are times when you’d try a new chippy recommended by a friend or acquaintance, yet you still always find your way back to Jackie’s.
I recall the nervousness on my final PhD examination day, known as my viva voce. Dressed in chic attire, and Prada heels, I was barely able to eat due to anxiety. I was escorted to Jackie’s, seated high, and coaxed into having some fries and a can of Lilt. After departing from Cork, whenever I came home, I’d find myself stopping by for ‘merely a bag’, craving that familiar flavour – the Dublin chippies were just incomparable.
Recently, being at home involved sitting with my family – my parents, sisters, brother-in-law, and niece, having gathered our meals. The activity of revealing all the packed meals, the traffic of dishes across the table until everyone had received their order.
The tranquil moment as everyone bites into their food and the sheer delight in observing my niece relish her fries. Witnessing a tradition initiate for the succeeding generations.
Currently, this age-old tradition is encountering a pause. We’ll transition to a different chippie, but the feeling won’t ever be identical. Gone are the mini paper bags bearing Jackie’s unique gothic-style inscription. There will be no more delectably good curry sauce from Jackie’s. No more Jackie’s, period.
My heartfelt wishes to the owners – the siblings, Brian and Frances Lennox who have arrived at this difficult resolution. Thanking you for all the extraordinary times with your chips.