Ten Irish dishes worth crossing the sea for

My top ten Irish dishes you have to try (and where to get them) began with a simple rule: eat where Irish cooks and families actually eat. I left behind the places offering “traditional Irish cuisine” in six languages and concentrated on pubs, bakery counters, market stalls and neighbourhood restaurants. The result is a list built around crisp edges, slow-cooked pots, Irish bread and produce from the Atlantic.

Australians already have plenty of Irish food close to home. The Irish Squire in Melbourne and The Gresham in Sydney are useful proof that an evening of stout, soda bread and live music does not require a flight. What Ireland adds is a sharper sense of place. In Dublin, the stout may arrive seconds after the food; in Belfast, barmbrack can arrive still warm; along the Galway coast, the oysters come with a view of the bay.

These are restaurant recommendations rather than guarantees. Irish kitchen hours can be compact, special dishes may sell out, and pub menus often change with the weather or a visiting supplier. I have therefore included the neighbourhoods and dishes worth asking about, while leaving room for the place that happens to be open when you arrive.

Breakfast worth waking for

The full Irish breakfast is the first dish to order, and The Winding Stair on Lower Ormond Quay is the place I would choose in Dublin. The plate brings together bacon, sausages, black and white pudding, eggs, tomato, mushrooms, hash browns and soda bread. It is generous, particularly for someone arriving on an overnight flight from Australia after an early start. Sharing one is sensible, especially if another bowl of stew is on the itinerary.

Soda bread is the second Irish dish worth seeking out, though it deserves a stop of its own. At H.A.C. Bakery on Clarendon Street, buy a thick loaf of the brown version rather than the paper-thin packaged slices familiar from Australian supermarket shelves. Its dense, nutty crumb is excellent with butter, mature cheese or soup. H.A.C. is also useful for takeaway, although the bread keeps better than most cakes and can travel comfortably to a hotel room for breakfast the following morning.

Boxty, stew and the pleasure of the pot

Boxty is the Irish potato bread that should never be confused with a pancake. Made from grated potato and flour, it is boiled before being griddled, producing a soft middle and crisp, almost lace-like edges. The Woollen Mills, near the River Liffey, is my Dublin starting point. Look for the boxty on the dinner menu and accept the filling suggested by the kitchen, which might be smoky fish, cheese or cured meat depending on the day.

Irish stew occupies the other side of the table. Lamb or mutton, potatoes, carrots, onions and barley are cooked slowly until the broth thickens and the meat falls apart. The Brazen Head on Fleet Street is a fitting place to order it, ideally beside a fire rather than squeezed into a tourist dining room. Irish stew is not the same as Scotch broth, and it rarely arrives swimming in red sauce. In Australia, a Sunday roast fills a similar role, but the Irish version is more likely to be served as a deeply savoury, broth-heavy bowl.

Barmbrack and Dublin coddle

Barmbrack is a spiced bread with raisins or sultanas, somewhere between a fruit loaf and a damp tea cake. It is especially associated with Belfast, where Gráin’s Bakery on Lisburn Road is a good place to sample it. Thick slices work well with butter and mature cheese; thin ones are better suited to a mid-afternoon cup of tea. Barmbrack is not Christmas pudding and should not be confused with a sweet seasonal bun. It is an everyday bakery food, sturdy enough to survive a long walk through the city.

Dublin coddle is the savoury opposite. Potatoes, sliced parsnips, onions and sausages are simmered together before being bound with a white sauce. The dish is frequently nicknamed “Dublin cod,” even though it contains no fish. The Church on Exchequer Street is one of the city places to ask about it, with availability depending on the day and the kitchen’s rhythm. The background to Irish food and cooking is explored in my guide to the Irish Taoisigh, which gives useful context for a dish built from inexpensive ingredients and careful cooking.

Coleslaw with sausages and mash

Irish coleslaw is the supporting dish that can reveal whether a kitchen understands its food. The cabbage is dressed with vinegar and mustard, often with a little cream, producing something sharper and more textured than the sweeter, mayonnaise-heavy versions served beside Australian barbecue sausages. The Winding Stair is reliable for this combination, particularly with one of its substantial sandwiches or a plate of fish. Ask for coleslaw on the side if you want to compare the flavour directly.

Sausages and mash is the straightforward pub answer, served with onion gravy rather than barbecue sauce. The Long Hall on South Great George’s Street is a good Dublin choice for the plate, although the term “plate” can become misleading when the mash is generous and the sausages arrive in pairs. The defining detail is the gravy, which should be dark, glossy and properly seasoned. Australians already know the appeal of the sausage; in Ireland, it becomes a different meal once the potatoes and gravy change the centre of the dish.

Oysters and fish beside the Atlantic

Galway oysters are the coastal dish I would put first in this list. At The Crane Bar on Quay Street, ask for oysters when they appear on the seafood menu. They are served simply, often with brown bread, lemon and a restrained drizzle of dressing, allowing their briny sweetness to do the work. Sydney diners are unlikely to be surprised by fresh oysters, but the Irish version tastes most vivid close to its source. Galway also offers the chance to add a walk along the waterfront before or after lunch.

Dublin fish and chips completes the list. The Winding Stair serves crisp battered fish with chips, mushy peas and tartare sauce, providing the fuller meal associated with the city rather than a snack wrapped in paper. Ordering takeaway from the counter is common in both Dublin and Australia, although the customs differ. Melbourne diners may call thin chips “shrips,” while a Dublin chip order often arrives as a plate beside the bar. If the west-coast route is part of the trip, my guide to the Cliffs of Moher is useful for choosing the right stretch of the journey.

Building a believable Irish food trip

Dublin deserves the most time because it contains the greatest concentration of the dishes on this list. After a day around the quays, the Liberties and the city’s Georgian streets, make one planned meal rather than several expensive ones. A stew on the first evening, soda bread from the bakery the next morning and boxty later in the week create a manageable route through the city.

Cork and Belfast reward a separate day trip. Cork is the stronger choice for the English Market, fish counters and a long lunch; Belfast suits anyone particularly interested in barmbrack, soda bread and pub history. Irish trains make these journeys straightforward, though rural onward connections require more patience than the frequent urban services in Melbourne or Sydney. The useful approach is to choose one city, reserve the meals that require them and leave room for whatever looks good near the market.

Menu wording deserves attention as well. A restaurant naming its Irish farmhouse cheese, its regional cider or the particular pub where a recipe comes from is usually more convincing than a display covered in shamrocks and claims of authenticity. When the same stock phrases appear everywhere with no local detail, it can feel like copy-paste marketing. Specific suppliers, changing specials and a willingness to explain an unfamiliar dish are better signs.

Service charges of around ten or fifteen per cent are common, and there is no obligation to add a cash tip in Ireland. Rounding up or telling the server that they did a good job is enough if you wish to acknowledge the service. Friday and Saturday bookings are worth making, while many traditional pubs remain quieter on weekday evenings. On my next Dublin visit, my first concrete step will be to reserve a 6.30 p.m. table at The Winding Stair.