Castles, cuisine and some craic
By
Malcolm Rogers
If you drive through Co. Down en route to the Republic you unconsciously note the religion of the towns as you pass by.
Red, white & blue paving stones plus entreaties painted on the gable–ends to “kick the Pope” (or variations thereof), and you just know that Seamus Heaney poetry books won’t be flying off the shelves hereabouts.
As you journey further south the kerb–stones begin changing colour and the war memorials are gradually replaced by Celtic crosses, until, on reaching the hinterland of south Armagh the memorials to the patriot dead begin to appear.
Nowhere, however, are their signs which tell you to “links fahren”, nowhere are their hoardings which say “Welkommen“ or “¡Hola!”. Because there just aren’t enough tourists, unfortunately, to merit such a campaign. And, to be honest, it could be quite a while before there are.
However, at the opposite end of the island (both geographically and philosophically) you are constantly bidden Céad Míle Fáilte — because here, in the Shannon region of south west Ireland is arguably the spiritual home of the Irish tourist industry, Bunratty Folk Park.
In 1964 the first guests crossed the drawbridge at the Castle for the first ‘medieval banquet’ of the modern era — and the visitors have never stopped since.
Now the funny thing about the banquets is they were set up to develop additional passenger traffic through nearby Shannon Airport by employees of the airport and airlines — and not by someone looking to make a quick bob or two. Today the whole Folk Park and banqueting sector (including Bunratty, Dunguaire Castle and Knappogue Castle) are under the control of Shannon Development, which could explain why the whole thing is done so tastefully.
THE BANQUET
Most Irish people don’t go to medieval banquets until the cousins from America come home. And those that do make the trek to Bunratty fear the worst. But there’s no need to worry. The show is certainly geared towards the Diaspora–market, or the benignly curious such as the Dutch, but without levels of schlockiness which are too hazardous.
That’s not to say that the whole thing isn’t a commercial venture — obviously it is, it’s just that the emphasis is put on two basically honest concepts — hospitality and music, two things at which the Irish excel. There’s no paddywhackery about that.
The resident musicians, the “famous Bunratty singers“ are first class performers, although I’ve always been vaguely suspicious of anything which has to proclaim itself “famous”. I mean, you never hear of “the famous Mount Everest“ or the “famous Pierce Brosnan” — still, I’m probably splitting hairs here.
The evening is hosted by an ebullient front man who is nominally the butler of the Great Earl of Thomond — but is in fact more of a spokesman for the Great Earl; a medieval Alastair Campbell in fact. With songs, recitations (Yeats to O’Casey) and jokes he generally keeps her goin’ Patsy, and acts as MC for the entire night’s entertainment. From the beginning of the evening when guests are accompanied in to the skirl of the war–pipes, to airs and reels on fiddle and harp which accompany the meal, the music is a focus of the entire experience, and makes this much more of a first class Irish folk concert than you might imagine.
Come–all–ye’s are naturally a feature — The Fields Of Athenry, Danny Boy and When Irish Eyes Are Smiling naturally choose themselves, but a few less hackneyed numbers including the great standard Preab San Ól are included in the repertoire. Audience participation is an integral part of the evening — with a good degree of codology guests are picked out and marched off to the “dungeon“, only being freed on agreeing to perform a party–piece.
Unfortunately, the night we were there a middle–aged besuited Englishman was chosen, and the only song he could think of was — yes, you’ve guessed it — God Save The Queen. This, as you might imagine, went down particularly badly with the Americans present (all nth generation Irish people to the last person) a good deal of booing ensued, and not all good–natured. Our old friend the butler handled this slight glitch with remarkable aplomb — papered over the craic as it were. Mind you I suspect he’s seen just about everything the punters can throw at him over the years — especially with the copious amounts of wine available.
THE FOOD
After being piped in, guests are offered honey–rich mead wine while being entertained with music of a more sedate nature (a few O’Carolan numbers, a couple of jigs) and a bit of blarney from the ever–present butler. Everyone then takes their places along banquet tables, and the second round of entertainment begins. The craic has shifted up a gear by this time — gone are the instrumentals and in come the singalong numbers. The general atmosphere has been greatly enhanced by the large jugs of wine available in seemingly industrial quantities — the serving ladies do not appear to know the meaning of the word ‘when’.
Being in this great medieval hall, my head awash with wine, I turned to my companion and commented that no wonder I felt like a hard, dazed knight.
The serving wenches soon arrive with piles of food, and very good it is. Nothing flashy, mind. We’re talking here about the food of the invader after all, a nation which gave the world bread & butter pudding, and, I believe, spaghetti hoops. So there’s nothing too fancy in the four courses — soup and wheaten bread, spare ribs, chicken and veg, followed by dessert. Of course, per the mores of the time, eating is only done with a “dagger”; no forks are allowed. But this only adds to the informality of the occasion — you’re definitely here for the craic and not the cuisine.
THE CASTLE
Bunratty (from Bun Raite — mouth of the River Raite) Castle is situated at the mouth of a small creek on the Shannon estuary. The castle is regarded as one of the finest surviving examples of an Irish tower house. Like most such buildings, Bunratty has had a bloody and violent history. Its strategic position on the river Shannon made it the centre of many a battle, and it has been destroyed and re–built on at least eight occasions.
Originally the Vikings built a fortified settlement here, a former island surrounded by a moat. Then the Normans came: Thomas de Clare built the first stone structure on the site in the 1270s and the castle played an important role in the ongoing struggle between the Normans and the Thomond family for centuries thereafter. The current building dates back to 1425, and was restored in 1954.
The Castle is today furnished in medieval splendour and contains 15th and 16th century furnishings, tapestries and works of art reflecting how the Anglo–Irish, aristocratic interlopers from Britain, led the life of Reilly in Ireland for centuries.
THE FOLK PARK
Folk Park adjoins the castle and aims to show what everyday life was like in rural Ireland about 100 years ago. It contains reconstructed farmhouses, cottages and shops, and care has been taken to make them as authentic as possible.
Now this isn’t some sort of Legoland for leprechauns. The Park is a living museum: animals are tended, bread is baked, milk is churned, walls are whitewashed and roofs are thatched; where buildings typical of a dispersed rural settlement are complemented by a village settlement. It was originally designed by the great Irish historian and folklorist Kevin Danagher — who had an MA in vernacular architecture amongst many other achievements. With that impressive title, Mr. Danagher had no problems undertaking tasks such as transplanting a typical Irish farmhouse from the path of Runway no. 1 at Shannon Airport to the more rural setting of the Shannon estuary.
You can visit the farmhouse, watch the blacksmith fit a horseshoe, hear a few yarns about wool making, or learn to harvest turf. It’s quite easy actually: “Take flachter to scraw, cut by slane, removing turves by trundle slide car or slipe.
If you find that a bit arduous you can always retire to the tea–house and stuff yourself silly on home-baked scones. And you can sit there in the little village deep in the Shannon countryside and reflect on the fundamental changes that have affected (some would say afflicted) Ireland over the last few decades.
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