On the quest for whisky I arrive at a converted warehouse on the harbour, seeking a bar I’ve looked for before and found twice in the east Exchange. One time it was deserted without customers or staff, on another, crowded and too expensive for anything but a visit to the washroom. Third time lucky, and just right, like Goldilocks would say. I make my way to a long polished oak bar with bottles of whisky in front of the mirror behind and several empty stools to choose from in front.
I am getting something for dinner, and this a little diversion. I order my favourite Irish whisky double, and enjoy the first swallow in a long time. It’s then that I notice the bar doubles as a seafood market with fresh fish bought that morning in the harbour. This is great, I figure, I don’t even have to get off my stool.
I receive octopus as the first part of my order, and while I’m waiting for scallops, snapper, basa and mussels for my Australian’s wife’s superb soup, I feel a tug at my sleeve. It’s my middle child sent to find me, as if we’re in a prohibition era movie. I drop the octopus on the wood floor as he tugs my arm, and before I can explain I’m really buying supper he has hustled me outside.
Suggested listening: Phil Ochs – Pleasures of the Harbour.