In June of this year, the government reopened pubs that serve meals in a bid to make life just that little bit more normal and bearable again. The caveat? Everyone who wants a pint, a glass of wine or whatever alcoholic beverage takes your fancy, needs to spend €9 on a substantial meal. The idea that Covid-19 magically disappears after someone spends €9 on a meal has been widely criticised, especially by publicans of wet pubs who had no choice but to keep their premises closed throughout most of this summer. Part of me wishes that the government had recommended satisfactory instead of substantial. I would honestly take a cheese sandwich from Grogan’s over a greasy, and often tasteless mountain of food from the pub. At least I would have no expectations from a cheese sandwich from Grogan’s; they’re always perfect the way they come, particularly with a bag of crisps. To me, this is a much more satisfactory dining experience than what many pubs are serving. Sadly, it doesn’t classify as a substantial meal.

Even the term “pub grub” makes me shudder. Having served as a waitress in a pub that serves food, I’ve seen how the food is prepared and cooked and it really is quite depressing. The grub in question usually bathes in a body of hot grease until it’s cooked through or sits for long enough on a grill that it is edible. I mean this respectfully, because I know that the chefs that work in these kitchens can cook much tastier and technical dishes; the menus that they often have no choice in serving are an injustice to their capabilities and creativity. The range of food on offer generally is not the most awe-inspiring or mouth watering either. But generally the food that is served in these kinds of pubs is exactly what it’s coined as: grubby. Eating in a pub is not meant to be a fine dining experience, but attempts should at least be made to ensure the food is enjoyable or, failing that, palatable. 

I reached breaking point after my most recent staycation in Donegal. The pub in question was the only one open — and a tiny one at that — in the small village where we were staying. My family and I made a reservation and upon arrival, the staff barely took heed of us. Those drinking and dining, on the other hand, may have gotten whiplash from our arrival. I felt as if I’d just stepped into a Roddy Doyle storyline: I was in this pub in this village in the middle of nowhere, and everyone was legitimately staring at all of us as soon as we walked in the door, as if they knew our business. When we were finally seated, the kind waitress asked us what drinks we wanted. We probably had notions asking for a wine list and I thought that at least if they didn’t have one, the waitress might tell us which ones were usually popular. When she heard wine, she retorted with “red or white?” as the only options. I should have known then to keep my expectations painfully low.

While the menu was average as far as pub menus are concerned, it had no sense of cohesion whatsoever. The starters showed an interesting range, and were probably the most exciting thing about the menu, offering everything from mussels to chicken wings to mushroom arancini. The mains were slightly more disappointing, and more of what you’d expect from quintessential pub grub: somewhat indecisive. There were three varieties of fish and chips and two iterations of steak and chips. Other options included the classic non-descript chicken curry, and chicken burger. Lastly and most hilariously, there was a mysterious vegetarian option, in which there was no telling what the meal itself was, however, the menu promised that it would be “cooked to your liking” – whatever that means. And if you’re a vegan, there were no options. 

Others who joined me ordered more or less the same as I did, some ordering the chicken wings for starters and the “Oriental Noodles” for their main. I ordered the mushroom arancini, and fish and chips, not really knowing what to expect, but thinking that at least the fish and chips wouldn’t disappoint. I wasn’t expecting to be transported to somewhere in Italy with a bite of the mushroom arancini, but just hoped that it would be enjoyable at the very least. The dish was an utter mess. I was handed two sad looking arancini balls that sat on a bed of garlic sauce with a salad sandwiched between the twins on a small rectangular side plate. There was no distinct smell upon tucking into this starter. It just smelled like grease, and the dish was spilling over the small plate in which it had been served. I am always hesitant to describe anything as bland but this is what these arancini were. The thick layer of garlic sauce these crispy rice balls lay upon suddenly made much more sense – it was the only thing that was giving them flavour. Meanwhile, the rest of the table had ordered chicken wings. I’m not sure if it’s a Donegal thing, but everywhere in the county we ordered wings, they were mysteriously battered. This meal was the first occurrence,  and something that wasn’t mentioned on any of the menus. It was slightly peculiar but I thought that they would have more flavour than my starter. This was true, but only because they were so spicy that the only thing you could taste was chilli. Usually I wouldn’t complain because there are typically other flavours detectable, but unfortunately the chilli was completely overpowering. 

I was hoping that the mains would be a different story. The fish and chips looked promising at first, but upon the first bite, revealed itself to be just another disappointment. The fish was  bland beyond belief. The chips were peculiar cuttings resembling the end of a packet of crisps that had been treated with cayenne pepper, which I can only guess was an attempt to resemble Nando’s chips. On the other side of the table, some of my family were digging into the “Oriental Noodles” which were served with the same kind of chips that came with the fish. I thought it was rather odd that chips were an accompaniment with the noodles. My family remarked that the noodles were unnaturally hot, as if they had been microwaved, and there didn’t seem to be an awful lot of excitement with that dish either. Once we had finished our food, we decided to cut our losses and skip dessert, usually my favourite part of a meal. We promptly asked for the bill, which must have been coming on the slow boat from China, much like the rest of the service. We paid and left rather displeased with what we had consumed.

At a different time in my life, the standard of food in a pub wouldn’t have bothered me at all. But when I think of all the money that these pubs must be making off barely palatable food, it seems scandalous. I would definitely agree it is important to support the local economy, but with all meals required to be €9 or more, you would expect that they wouldn’t disappoint. The reality is that they do time and time again. It is a sad reflection on the state of pub grub, when you could easily create a much better dining experience at home for a fraction of the price. The sooner the doors to the so-called wet pubs, the better. I’ll be looking forward to that cheese sandwich in Grogan’s.