Unable to venture abroad, I approached my city as a new destination — and discovered a place of culinary wonders
By Elizabeth Evitts Dickinson
Last spring I was supposed to travel to the west coast of Ireland for work, and while there I planned to return to one of the Aran Islands, Inis Mór, a place I’d visited in my 20s. I have memories of a particular meal, served at a whitewashed cottage perched on the craggy, windswept shoreline. A chef opened her home to one seating a night, and inside the warm, candlelit dining room I ate fish caught that morning and seasoned with dulse from the sea, fennel and potatoes pulled from her garden and warm brown bread served with cheese courtesy of the local goats.