A Drinking Emporium

It’s a long, long, way from Clare to here, as that old Ralph McTell song told us. But Ralph wrote the song, with the immortal line, after hearing it uttered from the mouth of a melancholy Clareman as he pined for his homeland, sitting in a Kilburn watering hole after a hard days graft on the difficult end of a shovel. It truly was, and is, a long way from there.

However, if you happen to hail from the neighbouring county of Limerick, it’s only a short hop and a skip to Ennis, the County town of Clare, and another twenty or so minutes drive to the Western coast where some of Irelands most stunning villages and vistas exist on the rugged European edge of the Atlantic Ocean.

The Cliffs of Moher, and villages of Doolin, Lahinch, and Spanish Point are all neighbouring ‘must sees’ if you happen to be down that way. All are part of Irelands ‘Wild Atlantic Way’, the longest ocean drive in the world. But that’s another story for another day!

A little further inland is the oft overlooked village of Ennistymon, which most travellers pass through, briefly, on their way to more westerly outposts, turning left as they enter the top end of the village, not getting any great view of the remainder of the main street, or any delights or points of interest it might contain.

So, there MB was, finding himself in Ennistymon’s Falls Hotel in recent days for an overnigh stay. ‘The Falls’ is so called because it overlooks the stunning waterfalls, the ‘Cascades’ as locally referred, on the adjacent River Inagh which passes the left wall of the hotel and hotel gardens.

MB’s fellow travellers decided that a happenchance game or two of Bridge with some newly made card friends in the hotel lobby was a more appealing endeavour than an evening stroll. So off MB headed, alone, for a walk along the river and falls, which would hopefully, eventually, cause him to intersect the main street, when M ‘Amerigo Vespucci’ B could hang a left and return to The Falls via asphalt rather than misty water and wild fowl.

MB took the left turn at the bridge across the river and found himself on Ennistymon’s main street. The shops were mostly now closed, it being late evening, but the hostelries were open and catering for thirsty tourists like MB, who might be in need of some flavourful fuel.

And that’s when MB stubmled across a gem, a drinking emporium, a stunning pub built in 1712, still standing, specialising in whisky drinking and whiskey tasting and tall tales of whiskey, and everything and anything whisky.

The pub is called ‘Eugenes’ after its illustrious owner, an Irish character if ever there was one, who is obviously made from a mix of the genes of James Joyce and Oscar Wilde, given the content of every single sentence that flows from his lyrical mouth. MB kids you not, dear followers, Eugene is a treat to listen to!

The sign on the window says ‘Adults & Cash Only’ which gives a flavour of the wit and banter that will ensue when entering the gladiator ring that best describes any conversation with the legendary Eugene. Eugene has a PhD in all things whisky, and MB will forgive him the sin that the establishment’s primary whisky focus is Scotland, not Ireland. One can hear stories of very rare whiskeys sold for tens of thousands of dollars, or of cork seals accidentally broken on rare expensive bottles, that saw bottle values halved for the mere breaking, and gaze in awe upon many rare whisky bottles yet unopened.

Eugene asked MB what imbibement he might fancy. Give me your oldest whiskey, replied MB, and I’ll take my chances. Then you’ll have an 18 year old Glenlivet, said the Professor. Happily, replied the student. MB sipped his tipple for an hour or so and engaged with the Proprietor and fellow drinkers on various topics whisky. Eugene showed MB the correct way to drink the Uisce Beaha (Irish Gaelic for ‘Whisky’; literally translating as the ‘Water of Life’). The first three sips are the true baptism, each sip serving a different purpose and each being consumed in a different way. And after a successful baptism, one is, of course, ready for life! MB could impart that baptismal knowledge to his loyal followers but he far prefers that they travel to that pub in that village and receive direct instruction from the great man himself.

Being an enjoyer of an occasional neat whisky, MB was in whisky heaven for that most memorable and unexpected hour in the company of a great whisky master and so witty a whisky raconteur. It was the highlight of MB’s trip to Ennistymon for sure, but there were many others it should be said. No international chain shops exist in the village and all shops are locally owned and unique and old worldly, full of locally made goodies and crafts, and hugely enjoyable to stroll through.

Ennistymon for your next trip, dear followers. Enjoy!