Alex Warren at Iveagh Gardens, Dublin: Stage times, set list, ticket information, support acts and more
TikTok
group from 2019 to 2022.
'From being homeless and sleeping in friends' cars to his current rise to stardom as a multitalented musician, Warren has shared the intimate details of his life with the world for more than a decade, building an online community of 26 million followers,'
Aiken Promotions
says. The US singer-songwriter will take to the stage in Dublin's
Iveagh Gardens
as part of his world tour.
When and where is it?
Alex Warren plays Dublin's Iveagh Gardens on Thursday, July 17th.
What time should I arrive?
Doors for the gig open at 6.30pm, with the music expected to begin at 8pm. Iveagh Gardens concerts tend to finish by 10.30pm. Traffic and entry delays are inevitable, so make sure you give yourself a couple of hours' leeway getting to and from the venue.
READ MORE
Who is playing?
US singer Medium Build has been confirmed as the support act for the gig.
What songs will Alex Warren play?
This was a set list performed by Warren in US Cellular Connection Stage in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, on July 4th:
Burning Down
Troubled Waters
Before You Leave Me
Catch My Breath
You'll Be Alright Kid
Yard Sale
Never Be Far
Save You a Seat
Chasing Shadows
Bloodline
You Can't Stop This
Headlights
Carry You Home
Ordinary.
How do I get to and from the gig?
The Iveagh Gardens are near St Stephen's Green in the heart of Dublin city. As a result, you are advised to use one of many public transport options to get to the venue.
Travel by bus:
A wide variety of Dublin Bus routes service the city centre. The 37 route, for example, runs along the northside of the quays and will drop you an eight-minute walk from the Iveagh Gardens. You can plan your journey with Transport for Ireland
here
.
Travel by Luas:
The St Stephen's Green Luas stop is a seven-minute walk from the venue. If you are heading southbound, take any green line Luas towards Sandyford or Brides Glen. If you are heading northbound, take any green line Luas towards Broombridge or Parnell.
Travel by train:
If you are arriving in Dublin by train, you can hop on the red line Luas from Heuston Station to Abbey Street. There,
transfer to the green line Luas from the stop on Marlborough Street, hopping out at St Stephen's Green and walking seven minutes to the Iveagh Gardens.
Travel by car:
The closest car park to the Iveagh Gardens is St Stephen's Green's Q-Park. You can pre-book a parking space
here
, although it is recommended you use public transport as traffic delays before and after the gig are inevitable.
Are there any tickets left?
At the time of writing, the gig is sold out, but resale tickets can be purchased from Ticketmaster
here
. Remember to download your tickets to your phone as there may be internet or connectivity issues at the venue on the day.
Do not rely on screenshots, as Ticketmaster often uses live or dynamic barcodes that update regularly.
What is security like?
This event is for over-18s. Under-18s must be accompanied by an adult. Make sure to bring an official form of identification with you: a passport, Garda age card or driving licence will suffice.
Bags size A4 or above will not be permitted entry. All bags will be subject to a search on arrival. Avoid bringing prohibited items including glass, cans, alcohol, garden furniture, umbrellas, flares, illegal substances or any item that could be used as a weapon.
Recording and taking pictures using a camera phone is no problem, but professional recording equipment will not be allowed inside the venue.
What does the weather forecast look like?
Thursday is forecast to be mostly cloudy with outbreaks of rain breaking up into showers and sunny spells during the afternoon and evening. Some showers will be heavy with a chance of isolated thunderstorms. Highest temperatures of 18 to 23 degrees with south to southwest winds. So make sure to dress appropriately and bring a rain jacket.
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Losers get whatever the host Colin McKeown bought earlier in the shop across the road, so even if the scores plummet there might be a Toffee Crisp in it for you. Colin runs Quiz Host Ireland and says it's community that brings people back again and again: 'Simply that we gather together and join a bigger group'. His favourite team name ever? 'Padraig Pearsed Nipples.' The Viking Splash has become so beloved in Dublin. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill Because sound Dubs still play along with the Viking Splash Tour. Those giant yellow second World War era amphibious vehicles trundle around the city, spitting facts about Dúbh Linn and pointing out that the Pepper Canister Church is so-called because it ... looks like a pepper canister. The favourite activity of the Viking Splash is creeping up on unsuspecting pedestrians to roar at them. It is the best of sports who pretends not to see them coming and then gets a 'big fright' followed by a wave to all the marauders on-board. The Viking Splash has become so beloved in Dublin that when it appeared back on the streets after the Covid lockdowns it was taken as a positive sign that the city was healing. Spare a thought though for those who live or work along the route. It can't be easy hearing those impassioned 'aarrgghhs!' multiple times a day. Because soon you'll be able to make free phone calls from a retro phone box in the Little Museum of Dublin. Newly reopened in its original home in a Georgian town house on the northside of St Stephen's Green, the back yard of the Little Museum of Dublin will shortly be home to an old-school cream and green phone box. Once a familiar sight on Parkgate Street and later Dawson Street, the K1 phone kiosk is one of only two examples of this iconic phone box still left – the other is in Foxrock village where it's a decorative suburban quirk that also houses a well-used book exchange. When the phone box lands in the museum in August it will become the only functioning K1 phone kiosk in the State. After a restoration project, Eir has donated the kiosk to the Little Museum ensuring that this piece of telecommunications heritage is safeguarded for future generations. Soon visitors to the museum will be able to experience the unique phone box and even, thanks again to Eir, make phone calls anywhere in Ireland for free. Because Dublin Zoo now has animatronic dinosaurs. The affection Ireland has for Dublin Zoo was evident in the concern many felt last summer when illness struck the elephant herd leaving two of the beloved beasts dead. It was also on display at the height of the Covid pandemic when people dug deep to fund food for the animals when the zoo was on its knees after months of lockdown. The zoo in 2025 is almost entirely unrecognisable from the one conceived in the Rotunda Hospital in 1830 when a group of medics and scientists formed the Zoological Society of Ireland. Back then it was largely for the entertainment of wealthy Dubliners, with the entrance fee set at a hefty six pence – or nearly €100 in today's money. Sundays were for normal people – as long as they could afford to spend a single penny. Now spread over 28 hectares, the zoo attracts more than 1 million visitors a year as Ireland's largest family attraction. And a day at the zoo got even better earlier this year when the 700 animals were joined by animatronic dinosaurs. Trinity College Dublin: an oasis of tranquillity and architectural beauty. Photograph Nick Bradshaw Because Trinity College is an oasis in the bustling capital Right bang in the city centre you can step away from the busy streets into a 430-year-old college that is an oasis of tranquillity and architectural beauty. On a summer's day you can even walk past the playing fields to the Pavilion Bar and sit on the steps outside watching the cricket (no understanding of the rules required). Because our seagulls think they own the place. They look down on us, they threaten our sandwiches, they play havoc with rubbish bags and poo on our cars. They cackle, they chortle, they screech and scream and yet Dublin wouldn't be Dublin without seagulls. Bloom feeds them in Ulysses, one of several notable references to the birds in James Joyce's novel. Dublin has the densest urban gull population in Ireland; they've been nesting in the city since the 1970s due to declining food sources at sea and closure of landfills – now estimated to number around 10,000 breeding pairs. Yet, despite this rise, the overall herring gull population in Ireland has dropped by 90 per cent in the past 30-40 years. As they tell us what we have done to our environment – and theirs – we should look up to them. Because the clip-clop of horses is still the soundscape of the inner city. Many cities have horse and carriage tours for tourists, but in Dublin, this goes much deeper. Caring for horses is an intrinsic part of the city's culture – as well as Traveller culture – to this day. Around Dublin 7 and 8, it's not uncommon to see young people walking horses through the streets, or trotting on sulkies. Concerns are often raised over animal welfare and the future of the Smithfield horse fair. But talk to a kid in the city with a horse by their side, and they'll furnish you with plenty of details about the horse's personality and how they care for them. If only the city could contribute more to enhancing the care of horses by providing new funding for stables, and acknowledging that this culture should be protected and supported with animal welfare as a priority. Community Mary Flanagan, Fiona Durran, Catherine McCoy, Geraldine Feeney and Eva Currid in Portmarnock. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill. Typography: The Irish Times Because Dubliners can talk to anyone. There's a particular magic in the Dubliner's ability to talk absolute nonsense – and mean it. Not just weather chat, but miniature theatre: timing, wit, warmth. Whether it's the butcher, the barista, or the person beside you on the 13, you'll get a comment, a joke, a 'will you look at that state of the sky'. It's not meaningless – it's micro-connection. People who deride the power of small talk are unaware of its important psychological benefits. Small talk – particularly those small chats you have with people you see regularly such as shopkeepers and regulars on your bus route – has been proven to promote a greater sense of safety, belonging and community. It's not a coincidence that we are discussing loneliness and isolation at a time where people are more likely to put headphones on than say hi to your barista. Great small talk is a form of connection and it's also a cultural skill we should be proud to protect and cultivate. Because 'For All' groups are bringing communities together . Scores of volunteer and community groups have sprang up across Ireland in response to an increase in asylum seeker arrivals and anti-immigrant protests. In Dublin, many of these 'For All' groups have evolved into a network of engagement for the wider community, says Roxanna Nic Liam, a member of the East Wall for All group. 'These groups integrate not just asylum seekers, but locals who have been in the community for generations,' she says. 'East Wall for All showed us how a working-class area in Dublin really does come together in a crisis and make the area a better place.' Liam Hourican of Dublin 8 For All says the group's membership has rapidly grown following recent anti-immigrant protests outside two primary schools in Dublin 8. 'People were disturbed by the rise of hateful narrative. We think an attack on marginalised members of our community is an attack on all our community.' Dublin 8 For All 'makes our community richer', says Hourican. 'This is what our country should be about – we should be open and confident and kind to each other.' Palestinte protest in Dublin. Photograph: Ella Sloane Because Dublin keeps showing it solidarity with Palestine. Dublin has long been a focal point for protest and activism in Ireland, and over the past year, it has become a powerful centre for solidarity with Palestine. From the Garden of Remembrance to the gates of Leinster House, tens of thousands have taken to the streets. Palestinian flags hang from shop windows, business awnings and private homes, a sign of collective outrage and empathy. This surge in solidarity is part of a broader, deeply rooted activist spirit in Dublin, where people have repeatedly gathered to reshape Ireland's national identity, from the Repeal the 8th movement to the Marriage Equality referendum. The same streets that once echoed with calls for reproductive rights and LGBTQ+ equality now resound with chants for justice in Gaza. Public spaces & transport Because Capel Street is Dublin's best car-free street. You can keep Grafton Street and Henry Street. Not only is Capel Street longer, it is distinctly better suited to exploit the advantages of a traffic-free environment because it has what the others lack – pubs and restaurants. Retail-dominated Grafton Street and Henry Street are dead once the shops close, but life continues into the evening on Capel Street, pedestrianised in 2022, particularly in summer when people can dine outdoors. During the day, the new public seating is well-used by shoppers taking a rest, teenagers socialising, tourists checking out what their next destination should be, and workers availing of an outdoor space to have lunch. Instead of car fumes and the noise of traffic, now there is the sound of conversation. Instead of pedestrian safety being compromised by vehicles, now there are plants to enjoy. ... followed by Parliament Street. Facing Capel Street across Grattan Bridge, bookended by the Liffey and City Hall, tree-lined Parliament Street was pedestrianised in July. The removal of traffic has the potential to rebalance Temple Bar, drawing more tourists from the busier east end to the West. It is also a big gain for cycling, with a new contraflow lane on Grattan Bridge allowing cyclists to go in both directions from City Hall on Dame Street, along Capel Street and all the way to Bolton Street – a distance of almost 1km. Because the quays are no longer a traffic choked hellscape. Described as a 'watery dual carriageway' by Dublin City Council's head of traffic Brendan O'Brien, the quays served no one – not cyclists, not pedestrians, not bus users, not even the private car drivers who were the largest contributors to its congestion. That has changed. Last summer the council banned private cars and commercial vehicles travelling along the Liffey at either side of O'Connell Bridge from 7am to 7pm. City car parks remained accessible, no Liffey bridge was closed to cars, and once 7pm hit, it was back to the status quo. Yet this one small measure had a transformative effect on traffic. The provision for cyclists is still poor, but the big winners are Dublin's bus users. Rush hour bus journey times fell by almost a third and timetable accuracy increased. Some motorists still ignore the restrictions, but hopefully the planned introduction of traffic light cameras will sort them out. Dublin Port's Tolka Estuary Greenway Because slowly, surely, soul-enhancingly, our city is becoming greener. As the cycleways and pedestrianised areas have expanded, so too have little pockets of green. Whether it's more trees along the new cycle paths in North Strand or vertical planting out of the bases of old brick walls in the Liberties or St James Linear Park running along the Luas red line in Rialto, these are imaginative, in many cases inexpensive, interventions that go a long way to softening the city's rougher edges. Cabra is full of brilliant examples such as the Community Roots garden-sharing initiative which matches people who want to grow their own food with others who have space and are happy to share. Then there's the Cabra Pond, built without a pond liner using bentonite clay, has transformed the area behind the Most Precious Blood Church off Kilkieran Road. The pond is full of tiny frogs at the moment with plenty of swifts soaring overhead – boxes for the birds were organised by Connecting Cabra. Catriona Kenny, a member of that group, says local churches have been generous with their land: 'We've held biodiversity festivals there, and planted long flowering meadows, native hedgerows and even a mini orchard. A local flood-alleviating project is ongoing around Christ the King Church, to reduce pressure on our storm drains.' Well played, Cabra. A decorative painting art on an electricity or phone junction box. Photograph: Artur Widak/NurPhoto/Getty Images Because our traffic junctions have become public works of art . It all started 10 years ago as part of the Dublin Canvas community art project. Artists were asked to come up with ideas for painting over the grey, and much graffitied, traffic light control boxes with all manner of eye-catching art. These brightly painted boxes bring welcome flashes of creativity and colour to otherwise boring bits of street furniture at most junctions throughout the city and suburbs. With another batch commissioned for painting over the coming months, there will be more than 900 spread out across Dublin by autumn. Because our walls talk back. Street artists like Joe Caslin and Emmalene Blake make the city feel alive. Caslin's soaring portraits – of queer teens, grieving men, hopeful change – don't just beautify walls, they demand tenderness. Emmalene Blake's work started with portraiture and has now become more political: hand-painted girls, mothers, and martyrs who quietly reclaim space for care, queerness, and Palestine. In a city often accused of being scrubbed of character, these artists murals remind you what still matters, responding to social crises and political events in real time, turning empty space into activism and concrete into feeling. You look up, and suddenly the city's talking back. Drury Street in Dublin. Photograph: Alan Betson Because people sit anywhere, anytime, anyhow. The provision of public seating in some areas of the city is finally improving, but elsewhere, Dubliners still have to take a load off by sitting on the street, as they have always done. Back in the day, the steps of the Central Bank were where young people gathered, and an ecosystem of subcultures merged; ravers, rockers, goths, grunge heads, skaters, and emo kids. Then it was the steps of the Powerscourt Shopping Centre on South William Street. While the banks of the canals and the boardwalk are well-worn sitting spots, now it's the kerbs of Drury Street, Castle Market and Fade Street where you'll find the city's cool kids hanging out. (The pedestrianisation of South William Street remains in limbo; this could revitalise a street that was once buzzing, but is now pockmarked by vacancy.) Because the Clontarf to city centre cycleway is glorious. Since the early 1990s cyclists heading north from Clontarf have had a traffic free path to enjoy the fabulous vista of Dublin Bay opening up before them, until, that is, they were chucked out unceremoniously at the Wooden Bridge to contend with traffic for a 2km stretch. In 2017 this missing link in the cycle-path was filled in and all was well, unless you were a cyclist heading south from Clontarf, then you were left to dice with death all the way into town. But no more. Last November the Clontarf to city centre cycle route opened. This 2.7km route takes cyclists all the way from the end of the Clontarf promenade to Conolly Station on Amiens Street, but more than that, it offers connections, existing and planned, to a whole network of safe segregated cycle routes. Already cyclists can use it to join the Royal Canal Greenway at Newcomen Bridge and Dublin Port's new Tolka Estuary Geenway via Fairview Park. In future, the route will be extended from Amiens Street down to the Liffey side paths and one day, if the council implements its Sandymount Strand Road plans, it will be connected to the southside and eventually the long-awaited Sutton to Sandycove (S2S) cycle-path along Dublin Bay could be completed. Because the new S bus routes offer a whole new way to explore the city. Rather than follow the old centripetal pattern of draining humanity into the city centre where people often had to hop off and hop on another bus to get where they wanted to go, the new S buses run across the city. The S2 for example goes from Heuston Station to Sandymount, through the city centre. ... and everyone still thanks the bus driver when getting off. Even if people now have to disembark via the middle doors, they still shout 'thanks' up to the driver. And unless you're wielding a knife the drivers almost always let you travel even if you don't have change or didn't know they don't take e-payments (in this day and age!). Out & about Swimmers enjoying the beautiful weather off the Hawk Cliff in Dublin. Photograph: Nick Bradshaw Because sea swimming is now a religion with better robes. Irish people have a deep relationship with the sea; we turn to it as a form of escape, of calm, of emotional regulation. Whether you're partial to Seapoint, Bull Wall, the Forty Foot or Vico Baths, there's no such thing as off-season: the sea is always there for you. And even if you go alone, there's a sense of community in being one of the mad ones who embraces the cold at any time of year. The reasons vary – mental health, community, a daily dopamine hit – but the feeling is universal: euphoria, followed by a hot flask of tea and a smug glow that lasts all day. ... and you can swim beside Moglaí Bap from Kneecap at Clontarf Baths. Swimming outdoors in Dublin with the reassurance of a seawater filter was a weirdly impossible dream until relatively recently, but this joyfully jellyfish-free option is now available at Clontarf Baths (€10 for two hours, ). Originally built in the 1880s, the baths reopened after a 22-year hiatus in 2018, initially only for swimming club members, before public sessions were added in 2022. The pool tends to be a few degrees warmer than actual sea temperature, though it might not feel that way if you brave it outside the summer months. With its expansive dimensions, it is an invigorating, open secret swim spot. Moglaí Bap from Kneecap presumably agrees – he was spotted enjoying the baths when the band were in town for their gig at Fairview Park in balmy June. Liam Irwin and Dan O'Connor, co-founders of the Hot Box which has saunas in several locations across Ireland Because saunas have become the new pubs. Forget meeting people for a meal or a drink, the new way to socialise is by sweating together in a sauna, with new ones opening in recently in almost every Dublin postcode, from Killiney to Swords, Dundrum to Ballsbridge. One of our favourites is the Hot Box Sauna in Inchicore, an area recently named as one of the coolest neighbourhoods in the world by Time Out. Because there's a run club for everyone. Dubliners are embracing new ways of socialising and boosting their health while they are at it, and with a great selection of parks and walkways, it seems only natural. From singles, to gaeilgeoirs to members of the LGBTQ community to asylum seekers, there's a run club to suit all interests, whether you're looking to train for a marathon or simply jog 5k; some of the most popular include Sanctuary Runners, Dublin Front Runners, Sole Mates, Run Club Social and Club Reatha. Shopping Spar on Dame Street is unofficially known as Gay Spar. Photograph: Nick Bradshaw Because Gay Spar is still the best place to feel seen at 2am. Officially known as the Spar on Dame Street, unofficially known as Gay Spar, this 24-hour convenience store is also a safe haven. So-called due to its proximity to The George, 'Gay Spar' started as a nickname – but the shop has wholeheartedly embraced it, with windows now emblazoned with rainbow Pride colours. When you stumble in after the club, before the taxi, when your eyeliner's smudged and your voice is hoarse, you can be safe in the knowledge that you're not the only glitter-covered person buying a Lucozade and a sausage roll. At a time where corporate LGBTQ+ allyship – no matter how performative – is being rolled back worldwide, Gay Spar has proven to be a steadfast ally. Because some shops are more than just shops. Around the city, independent stores add to the diversity of retail, breaking up the monotony of international chains. Many of these brick-and-mortar stores also act as cultural hubs. Saint Street hosts sessions by local rappers. Emma Fraser's vintage clothing stores Loot and Nine Crows have expanded into an internationally lauded modelling agency Not Another Agency. Tola Vintage hosts Culture Night parties, and High Rollers has a skate team. At Indigo & Cloth's micro-cafe, actors, artists, playwrights and crew from the nearby Project Arts Centre grab a brew. Emporium collaborates with the club Index and the record label Soft Boy, home to Kean Kavanagh and Kojaque. Owner of Little Deer Comics Matthew Melis is founder of the Dublin Comic Arts Festival. What all these stores have in common is an independent spirit, a can-do attitude, and a belief that community is what makes a city business tick. For crafts and jewellery, The Irish Design Shop on Drury Street can't be beaten. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill Because Stable and The Irish Design Shop are beacons of Irish design. If there's one shop in Dublin city centre that lifts the spirits in an otherwise mediocre line up of global fashion brands found in any European capital, it is Stable in the Westbury Mall. Founded by friends Sonia Reynolds and Frances Duff originally as a pop-up ten years ago, it celebrates its ongoing success in promoting Irish craftsmanship and native fabrics, designing and making scarves, clothing and home accessories using Irish linen, tweed and handwoven wool. For crafts and jewellery, The Irish Design Shop on nearby Drury Street can't be beaten. Because indie bookshops are still holding the line. In Books Upstairs, you can climb the stairs to a cafe filled with poetry books and political theory. In The Gutter Bookshop, the staff recommend novels with such genuine joy it feels like a gift. In Hodges Figgis, a 300-hundred-year-old institution, you can still overhear a teenager discovering Sylvia Plath. The best ones – like The Library Project in Temple Bar, with its photo books and zines – remind you that books aren't just stories, they're worlds, and Dublin still has places where you can stumble into them. Events like Rick O'Shea's Writehawks, which allows writers to come in and chat about their favourite books, create a sense of community. George's St Arcade. Photograph: David Sleator Because the George's Street Arcade is as odd as ever. Where else could you get a nipple pierced and your fortune told before picking up a kaftan, some handcrafted statement jewellery, a batter burger and an oat-milk latte, all under the one roof? Only in Ireland's first purpose-built shopping centre. While it's unlikely the youth of the 1880s – when the George's Street Arcade first opened its doors – were lining up to get body parts pierced or inked, they were no doubt as drawn to the eclectic mix of stalls and shops as more recent generations have been. And sure as anything they used it as a handy and dry shortcut when walking from George's Street to Drury Street on a rainy day. The closure of Simon's Place is still mourned by many, but the arcade continues to be a draw for tourists and locals. Because Kish Fish reminds us what food shopping should be like. Kish opened on a back street in the heart of Smithfield in 1979 when Ireland loved the pope and the notion of north inner-city gentrification was as comically unlikely as a computer company paying us €13 billion in back tax or some class of silicon docks popping up at the back of Irishtown. The fishmongers standing behind the beds of tightly packed ice are old-school and fiercely obliging, happy to fillet and skin whatever takes your fancy and teach you how best to cook it. You won't find that service in many supermarkets. Lucy's Lounge, Fownes Street, Temple Bar. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill Because of the second-hand treasure troves. Dublin's street style is a combo of Pellador jumpers and Claddagh ring emblems, mixed with second-hand finds uncovered in the city's charity and vintage shops – from the legendary Lucy's Lounge in Temple Bar and Monto on Parnell Street, to the newer Big Smoke Vintage in Temple Bar. As for the 'chazzas', Dublin has a wonderful selection of shops that follow each other like stepping stones, from Capel Street to George's Street, Camden Street and into the southside. Because the flea market scene keeps offering new treasures. In 2018, the Dublin Flea Market ceased trading due to redevelopment around Newmarket Square, much to regret of locals and fans of a good bargain. But residents were delighted to welcome the revived Newmarket Flea in July. Elsewhere in the city, Quirk, Le Zeitgeist, Libertine Market Crawl, Flux Market and the Block Market in Charlemont Square have all helped turn thrifting into a social event. Flea markets are a haven of creativity and community, showcasing the best of local artists, crafts and vintage fashion collectors. It's not just about finding something rare and engaging in a spirit of sustainability as old items become loved again, it's about chatting to the sellers, grabbing a coffee, and seeing what strange treasure finds you. Because Change Clothes offers us a guilt-free wardrobe refresh while saving clothes from landfill. In 2022, Mary Fleming set up Change Clothes in Crumlin, initially a one-week pop-up devoted to clothes swapping, workshops and exhibitions. Fast forward to 2025 and Mary's word is spreading far and wide across Dublin. Now based on Thomas Street in Dublin 8, Change Clothes hosts clothes swaps, fill-a-bag events, sewing machine classes and textile upcycling events. Donated clothing is redistributed to people in need, and traineeships are offered to those looking to get started in the textile industry. Change Clothes also enables other social enterprises to host clothes swaps events by providing clothes rails and the know-how. Food & Drink Staff at the Priory Market in Tallaght, Dublin. Photograph: Alan Betson Because the city finally knows how to eat. There was a time when 'going out for food' in Dublin meant soggy panini or bafflingly expensive Caesar salads. Not any more. From Filipino adobo tacos to cardamom cruffins to smoked fish toasties made in tiny food trucks, the capital's kitchens are having a golden age. There's imagination, care, spice. Pop-ups and wine bars. Places you tell your friends about immediately, unless you want to keep them to yourself. It's not just fancy spots – it's the fact that Dubliners now expect their food to taste of something. And it does. New favourites include Little Lemon on Duke Lane, Pickosito on Mary Street, Fidelity in Smithfield, Lupillos in Inchicore, and Cat You Café in Ringsend for the best acai bowl in town, as well as the global streetfood stalls at the recently opened Priory Market in Tallaght. Because Assassination Custard is defying the odds. In a city where independent restaurants are being flattened by rent hikes and global roll-outs, and Dublin dining has blurred into velvet booths, TikTok interiors and menus written by accountants, Ken Doherty and Gwen McGrath's Assassination Custard in Dublin 8 remains a quiet act of resistance. Opened in 2015, it shut in July 2023 to reassess how – or if – it could go on. It reopened in February, reshaped but not softened: bookings open weekly on Instagram, lunch Wednesday to Friday, with two sittings, 12pm and 1.30pm. Bookings are for one or two people, dining at shared tables, maximum eight people. It's €35 a head minimum (less if solo). Now serving wine: one red, one white, and a vermouth at €8.50 a glass. The paper-bag menu shifts with the season and their format: always vegetarian options, often offal – tripe, kidneys, hearts – and pickles, ferments, anchovies, and pig's ear. No PR machine. Two cooks, three tables, and a welcome that proves why small matters. Because Green Man Wines is one of the best wine shops in the world. Rajat Parr – the world's most revered blind-taster – walked into Green Man Wines in Terenure and, like every wine nerd, did a double take. More than 1,000 lines, from smaller producers who farm organically, biodynamically, 'naturally'. Wines with energy, not funk. Most fall into the €20-€40 range, though there are four-figure unicorns. Opened a decade ago by Dave Gallagher and his wife, the late Claire O'Boyle Gallagher, it still reflects their mix of obsession and warmth. All bottles can be opened on-site for €15 corkage. Dan Smith, formerly of Airfield Estate, is the chef in the wine bar (Thursday-Saturday), serving a rotating menu, built around small plates that pair with the wine. 'Wine Tasting Wednesdays' bring visiting winemakers pouring their bottles, with Dan riffing on the regional food. Traditional fish and chips served at Fish Shop in Dublin. Photograph: Ellius Grace/New York Times Because the world's best chefs treat Fish Shop like a local. The Smithfield room is tiny – two marble-topped counters, 15 stools, a chalkboard menu, and a killer wine list: Jura whites, grower Champagne, alpine Nebbiolo, island wines from the Med. Peter Hogan and Jumoke Akintola opened Fish Shop here in May 2016, following their Blackrock Market stall. The menu still includes their renowned fish and chips but has quietly grown. The rule remains: wild, Irish-caught fish and seafood only. No tuna, bream, sea bass, imported prawns. Grilled John Dory or brill are mainstays, alternatives include gurnard or red mullet. Shellfish from the Copper Coast – crab, shrimp, lobster, whelks – are delivered from Tramore by Peter, and Irish langoustines or tiny seasonal shrimp, depending on the catch. Famous chefs eat here, of course. International names, tipped off about our restaurant critic Corinna Hardgrave's favourite casual restaurant in Dublin. Good luck getting a seat. Because the Mushroom Butcher is Dublin's most original pop-up . Mark Senn, a Melbourne-born chef who once ran the short-lived Veginity and Vish, now grows and cooks mushrooms near Leonard's Corner in Dublin 8. Mushroom Butcher is his Saturday-only food truck – parked outside a converted retail unit where he and his partner, Ingrid Baceviciute, cultivate a dozen or so delicate, short-shelf-life mushroom varieties rarely seen in Ireland. Staples have included king oyster schnitzel, mushroom XO sauce with polenta chips, and a vegan bánh mì, and more recently, he's featured a series of themed menus – Brazilian, Japanese, Greek and Italian – all cooked to order. The mushrooms themselves are sold fresh and appear on menus at some of the country's best restaurants. No delivery. Just a hyper-focused weekly service that's growing something new – literally, from the ground up. Because Al Khair restaurant at the mosque on South Circular Road is an escape to another culture. At Al Khair, the canteen-style restaurant tucked behind the blue gates of the mosque on South Circular Road, hospitality means food – shared, abundant, unforgettable. Opened in 1985 by Mohammed Yousuf, now run by his son Junaid, the food is what he calls Indian with a 'gentle Pakistani influence', which in practice means you get the creamy warmth of paneer and dal, the deep spice of slow-cooked lamb, and the slap-you-awake heat of aubergine bharta when you ask for it spicy. The vegetarian samosas are wonderful. Because the new generation of cocktail bars rival the best in the world. When Dave Mulligan felt the city needed some old school night-time glamour, he reimagined the old Sackville Lounge off O'Connell Street. This old boozer still has that classic Dublin pub feel, but it's also new and sleek with a cocktail menu that will knock your socks off. But what else would you expect from head bartender Dave Taylor, who also oversees operations at nearby award-winning Bar 1661? This year, Bar 1661 represented the Irish cocktail scene at the prestigious Tales of the Cocktail in New Orleans, showcasing all that is great about Irish spirits and Irish drinks. Because of the secret table in Pepper Pot Café. Most Dubliners know about the pear and bacon sandwich in the Pepper Pot Cafe. (If you don't, and think pear and bacon come across as unlikely breadfellows, just try it.) Most of us also know the Pepper Pot is one of Dublin's best cafes for people watching, on the balcony in the Powerscourt Townhouse Centre overlooking the bustling hordes below. But our favourite place to perch is at the table we like to call the secret table. In a room away from the main seating areas, it's where the cafe's baking magic happens. Here you can eat your pear and bacon or equally lovely sausage sandwich while watching croissants being laminated and bagel dough being pulled. Now, like Doris Day's secret love, our secret table's no secret any more. But that's okay. We don't mind sharing.
