Editor's Letter

You know the feeling. You've driven an hour for a meal someone promised would change your life. The parking was a nightmare. The menu was overwhelming. And somewhere between the amuse-bouche and the bill, you realised you'd been sold an experience instead of given one.

I've been on both sides of that table.

I studied food and beverage in Birmingham, managed Ely in Dublin when it was the place to be, and then ran the Wild Goose Grill in Ranelagh for eighteen years. Eighteen years of Dublin's brightest tables. Eighteen years of watching people eat without seeing.

Then I became a wild goose myself.

I started driving. No plan, no reservations. Just the road and wherever it ended. And it kept ending in County Down. In kitchens where the chef was also the fisherman's cousin. In dining rooms where the lamb had grazed the hill you could see through the window. In places that had never heard of a Michelin star and couldn't care less.

In Europe, they call it Kilometre Zero — the idea that everything on your plate should come from within touching distance. Ireland never had a name for it. We just called it dinner.

So I'm giving it one now. Slow County Down. Ireland's Kilometre Zero.

This isn't a review site. There are no stars, no rankings, no "best of" lists. Just places I'd send my own family. Places where the food is honest and the welcome is real.

Sign up for text alerts and I'll let you know when something special lands on a County Down menu. The scallops are running. The new season lamb has arrived. That sort of thing.

Eat slowly. Stay longer. Notice more.