Nothing quite compares to the sensation of sharing a snug space in a traditional pub, shoulder to shoulder with companions, with knees nudged upwards on the petite bar stool’s footrest, your face aglow from laughter and cosiness. The spot vacated by a missing friend doesn’t indicate emigration, demise, or a preference for other pastimes. Rather, he is merely following what is customary when the occasion calls for it. That is, engaging in the age-old Irish ritual of buying a round.
Effortlessly, he handles four pints of beer, rejecting any assistance offered. When he returns for the third time, he dramatically sweeps his arm across the table, spilling a cornucopia of treats – cheese-and-onion flavoured crisps, salted peanuts, and several bacon fries packets.
With delight, the group pounces on the snacks, astutely reorganising the scene to accommodate the plentiful spread. The snack bags need to be neatly unfolded along one side, allowing every member to partake. The snack party inevitably concludes but the craving for savoury tidbits persists. Another participant is nominated to replenish the stash, with the departing command “Pick up salt and vinegar flavour too.”
The only experience surpassing the pleasure of receiving this delightful pub grub, affectionately termed “Irish tapas”, is the act of generously providing it. Playing the role of snack benefactor evokes a heady rush of happiness, and the surprise element enhances the experience. Perfect execution of Irish tapas demands the right conditions: sufficient space for laying out the opened bags, everyone having comfortable access, an active but not overcrowded pub. Overcrowding threatens to annoy other customers with your self-satisfied gaiety and monopolisation of the space. Admittedly, the bar staff have better things to do than fetch stacks of scampi fries for you and your crew. However, when conditions align favourably, it can only be akin to a taste of heaven.
‘Irish tapas’: Surely, these pub delicacies must be a heavenly delight.
As a living proof, I illustrate that the traditional Catholic Church education in schools doesn’t always leave the intended impact.
Emer McLysaght asserts that while the Inuit people are renowned for their extensive list of terms for snow, in Ireland, the rich descriptive register for rain plays a similar function. The debate on the prioritisation of Irish tapas menu treats is a recurring topic, with ardent supporters arguing over the merits of potato crisps, corn snacks and nut-based fare. While Tayto cheese-and-onion crisps hold the accolade as the nation’s cherished choice, the pub scene tells a diverse story. Manhattan’s ingenious offering, the Pub Crisp, packed in a chic black wrapper, McLysaght confidently claims, outshines the competition. Any objectors are encouraged to express their disagreements via letters.
Considering corn snacks, Smiths’ Bacon Flavour Fries and Scampi Flavour Fries are often found temptingly positioned at the check-out counter, irresistible to most. In the same product family, Cheese Moments are considered somewhat of a rarity, with tales of their discovery often told with great drama. McLysaght reports that a friend once procured a generous packet of Cheese Moments as a novelty birthday gift; however, the snack was perceived as ‘rather average’.
Lastly, the Irish tapas selection would be incomplete without its unassuming constituent, the peanut. McLysaght favours the salted variety, though she acknowledges the popularity of dry roasted alternatives. On rare occasions, pubs stock the exclusive salt and vinegar peanut, a precious item that would be unthinkable to ignore. However, McLysaght laments the dwindling presence of hot nut dispensers in pubs across Ireland due to their exorbitant pricing.
During the peak of the pandemic, I recall a pal questioning whether we would reunite to analyse the crisp packets at the bar, along with our past practice of sharing corn snacks – a habit which felt remarkably unhygienic at that time. I find it disappointing that numerous individuals appear to have given up on the etiquette of coughing into the crook of their arm or ensuring buses stay ventilated by keeping windows open. However, I do welcome the enduring custom of Irish tapas. After all, everyone practicing hand hygiene after visiting the bar’s loo is a given, isn’t it?