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Telegraph
5 days ago
- General
- Telegraph
Forget Bath and Bloomsbury – the greatest Georgian architecture is found in Dublin
The clearest memory of my first visit to Dublin, nearly 40 years ago, is my initial sight of Merrion Square. It is – whatever the claims of Bloomsbury, Bath, or the New Town in Edinburgh – the finest Georgian architectural spectacle in the British Isles. For those who do not know it, Merrion Square is a vast rectangle of terraced houses in the centre of the Irish capital, surrounding a superb park – originally a private space for residents, now open to the public. The original landlord was the 6th Viscount Fitzwilliam, whose family had been in Ireland since the 13th century and was then the biggest landowner in the Dublin area. Both he and his son, the 7th Viscount, undertook extensive property development, of which Merrion Square is the foremost jewel. The 7th Viscount served for a time as an MP in Wiltshire, and left the bequest that founded the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge. The decision to lay out the square was taken in 1762 and began with the west side: the original plan was devised by two local architects, John Smyth and Jonathan Barker, and in 1780 the plan for the east side was drawn up by a third, Samuel Sproule. Benjamin Simpson won a competition to design the gardens in 1792, and by the early 19th century almost all the houses had been built. It quickly became a fashionable address, sought after by the 'quality' of Dublin. When I first walked around the square in the 1980s, many of the properties were still residential; now, it is dominated by offices and embassies, though some private houses remain. In the past, some of Ireland's most glittering names lived there: Oscar Wilde's father, William, had a house where Wilde (a statue of whom reclines in the park) lived until he was 22. Later, W B Yeats was a resident of the square; as were, in earlier times, Daniel O'Connell, the nationalist leader, and Sheridan Le Fanu, the gothic novelist. The original conception remains mostly intact – one sizeable property on the North Terrace was, however, demolished almost a century ago and the National Maternity Hospital was built on the site. Everything else on the east, south and north sides is conventional late-Georgian townhouses of three storeys, an attic and a basement, built in red brick, with the traditionally fenestrated sash windows and solid front doors with varieties of semi-circular fanlights above them. The west side contains two museums and the gardens of Leinster House. Looking up the south side there is in the distance at the end of Mount Street (which carries on from the square) a fine Georgian church, St Stephen's, designed by John Bowden, and known as the Pepper Canister after the distinctive shape of its spire. The view from the bottom of Merrion Square along the terraces of the square and of Mount Street, with this gem at the end, is one of the finest townscapes one could wish to see. It is something of a marvel that the square looks as good as it does. The uniformity is remarkable, given the length of time over which the houses were built, by a variety of labourers and craftsmen. Some of the 92 houses are narrower than others; and one of the great joys of walking round is to compare the different designs of fanlight and the colours of the handsome front doors. In some, the fenestration of 12 small panes (six in the top frame and six in the bottom) has been replaced by one large single pane in each frame, which detracts from the uniformity, but luckily is rare; and most houses are of three bays but some are of two bays. Nor are the heights of the houses always uniform, but the line of the terraces and the effect of the patina of the brick is what captures the eye. The growing wealth of 19th-century Dublin after the 1801 Act of Union led to the embellishment of some of the houses, notably with wrought-iron balconies on the first floor. The square is also blessed with tall and ornate lamp standards that complement the houses. Architectural guides – including the excellent Buildings of Ireland volume on Dublin – speak rapturously of the interiors of many of the houses, such as their ceilings, cornices, mantelpieces and staircases. But the great joy about Merrion Square is that even from the outside it is astonishingly special.
Irish Times
28-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
I call out a chat'n'cut, Larry David style. I will never live down what happens next
I blame Larry David for what happened to me recently in Merrion Square. I can draw a direct line from him to a queue for the bar in that beautiful Dublin park on a recent sunny evening. If it weren't for Larry David and his show Curb Your Enthusiasm, this excruciating happening would never have happened. If it weren't for David, I'd have handled the situation differently. If it weren't for David, everything would have been fine. It wasn't fine. And I will tell you just how not fine it was in a moment, but first, for the few who aren't familiar with Larry David or Curb Your Enthusiasm, a brief explanation: In Curb, Seinfeld creator and writer Larry David plays an exaggerated version of himself, a comedy writer who likes golf, going to restaurants, hanging out with friends and complaining about attending various social engagements. His schtick is that he is a neurotic, socially awkward, brutally honest man incapable of meeting society's expectations who loves giving other people grief for not sticking to his made-up, random-seeming rules for life. He has no shame. He does not care about social norms or niceties. He does and says the things we all wish we could do and say. In short, Larry David is a legend. The specific scene in the specific episode that led to my mortification in Merrion Square happens in Vow of Silence, episode five of series eight. Larry is at his friend and manager Jeff's going-away party, in the queue for the hot buffet. The queue is moving slowly, and they are hungry. Next thing, a woman approaches the man who is standing in front of Larry and Jeff in the queue. She starts a conversation with the man, reminding him of some party they were both at years ago. It looks to most of us like an innocuous conversation. But not to Larry. 'It's a classic chat'n'cut,' he explains to Jeff. 'She's feigning familiarity with someone she vaguely knows for the sole purpose of cutting in line. She'll be picking up a plate any second.' Sure enough, the woman picks up a plate ready to get some food. Of course, Larry can't leave it there. He congratulates the woman for an amazing attempt at a chat'n'cut, one that '99 times out of 100 would have worked' except for the fact that he, Larry David, an astute observer, is behind her in the queue. Her chat'n'cut is exposed. READ MORE And now here I am standing near the top of a long queue for the bar on a sunny evening in Merrion Square. I am queuing to buy drinks for a woman I am catching up with, a world-renowned writer and thinker who is in Ireland on a speaking engagement at the International Literary Festival Dublin, and her friend a respected Irish academic. I am standing in the queue when a smiling, bespectacled man sidles up to me, feigning familiarity, asking to join me there. I have two choices. I can let the guy skip the queue, I mean who cares and sure what harm? Or, I can call out this blatant chat'n'cut for what it is. Invoking the spirit of David, I choose the latter and I tell the guy it was a nice try, but that he should go to the back of the queue. If Larry were here, he'd lean in. He'd tell everyone about his misdiagnosed chat'n'cut and own the situation The woman behind me in the queue thinks I am amazing. 'The way he came up to you, I thought he knew you,' she says. 'No,' I explain. 'In fact, what you witnessed there was a classic chat'n'cut, he just wasn't expecting me to call him out on it'. 'Wow,' she says admiringly. 'So un-Irish of you. Look at him there at the back of the queue, all sheepish in his glasses.' I look down, and smile at the chat'n'cutter. No hard feelings. He just didn't know who he was up against. Delighted with myself, I buy the drinks and return to where the Thinker and the Academic are sitting with another woman. We're chatting away when several minutes later, a man appears holding a drink for the other woman, his girlfriend. The man looks vaguely familiar. My stomach lurches. The man is the bespectacled chat'n'cutter. Except, now I realise he wasn't chatting'n'cutting in the classic sense. This man knew that I was also in the company of the Thinker and the Academic and he thought I'd be decent enough to let him buy his drink with me. We both know what happened earlier but neither of us mentions it. Then from a bag he takes out little Tupperware boxes of beautiful food he has made for the Thinker, a thoughtful gift from her home country. I die a little more inside. Of course if Larry were here, he'd lean in. He'd tell everyone about his misdiagnosed chat'n'cut and own the situation. As previously mentioned he has no shame. But I am Irish and I cannot own this situation. I can only sit there, covered in shame, munching on delicious rice wrapped in pickled vine leaves trying to convince a nice, bespectacled Turkish man that I am not the rudest person in this country of a thousand welcomes. I'm not sure he's convinced. And, to reiterate, I blame Larry David.
Irish Times
23-05-2025
- Business
- Irish Times
Buon Gusto takeaway: Perfect park picnic food with serious Italian pedigree
Buon Gusto Address : Herbert Park Food Market, Ballsbridge, Dublin 4. Telephone : N/A Cuisine : Italian Website : Cost : €€ What's on offer? Patrizio Di Pietrantonio, originally from Pescara on Italy's Adriatic coast, has been working in kitchens since the age of 16, drawing on a culinary legacy from his grandparents, who ran a beachside restaurant in Pescara. With more than 20 years' experience cooking around the world and absorbing influences, Di Pietrantonio officially launched his food stall, Buon Gusto, in August 2023 at the Merrion Square Food Market. He also trades at St Anne's Park and Herbert Park. Piadina, Buon Gusto's signature flatbread from Emilia-Romagna, was a staple food in rural Italian households and remains a standard of regional street food. Each piadina is cooked on a griddle, and filled to order with sliced Italian salumi, cheeses, or a vegetarian option. The menu also includes lasagne, available in Bolognese (meat) or Genovese (vegetarian) style. Seasonal desserts include maritozzi with fresh cream, offered in a mini format suitable for children or small portions. READ MORE Di Pietrantonio's next venture, set to open at Priory Market in Tallaght, will take a different approach, with pasta made on-site, paired with traditional sauces, and served with a focus on zero waste. What did we order? Piada Focosa, Piada Amore, and Lasagna Genovese. How was the service? Very pleasant. You order at the food stall and wait while your order is prepared. [ The Ribs - Gaucho takeaway review: Barbecue sharing platters of Brazilian-style grills and sides Opens in new window ] Was the food nice? The Piada Focosa combines 'nduja, Ventricina salame, lettuce, yellow tomato sauce and chilli oil. Griddled to order, the flatbread is warm outside while the fresh fillings stay cool. The meats aren't evenly spread, but when they land, they bring solid heat and depth. Patrizio Di Pietrantonio's next venture, set to open at Priory Market in Tallaght, will take a different approach, with pasta made on-site, paired with traditional sauces, and served with a focus on zero waste. The Piada Amore pairs pistachio mortadella, burrata, sun-dried tomatoes, iceberg lettuce, and pistachio sauce in a lightly toasted flatbread. The creamy burrata and savoury mortadella complement each other, with sun-dried tomato adding weight and a touch of sweetness. Subtle and balanced, it's the softer, gentler counterpart to the Focosa, and was the pick of our orders. The Lasagna Genovese layers pesto, courgettes, potatoes and green beans under a béchamel top. Nicely cooked pasta and clean flavours make it a solid, unfussy vegetarian option. You can order it hot or keep to reheat at home. What about the packaging? The Piadine are wrapped in paper and the lasagne is in a foil tray. There are plans to switch to biodegradable packaging from Down to Earth. [ Donnybrook Fair review: Revamped flagship has extended its deli offering Opens in new window ] What did it cost? €32 for lunch for three people: Piada Focosa, €11; Piada Amore, €11; and Lasagna Genovese, €10. Where does it deliver? Takeaway only. Available at the following markets: Merrion Square, Thursday, 11am-2pm; St Anne's Park, Saturday, 10am-4pm; and Herbert Park, Sunday, 10am-4pm. Would I order it again? Yes, it's perfect park food, especially for picnics.
