MAGAN'S WORLD:Manchán Magan's tales of a travel addict
Staying alert in one's own country is hardest of all. I'm constantly being reminded of how blind I am to the changes that are taking place around me. The west Co Kerry I remember from childhood is of ponies and carts going to the creamery and the decadence of getting clunky machine-made ice cubes in hotel bars.
Just recently I found myself in Tig Bhric, a bar in Riasc, on the Dingle Peninsula, shaking the rain off and cursing the fact that I would have to make do with a pint of either heavy Guinness or insipid lager, when I noticed the man next to me drinking a pint the colour of burnt umber. "What's that?" I asked, and he pointed to a tap I hadn't noticed before. A Post-it note stuck on it had the words Beoir Chorca Dhuibhne on it. "Local microbrewed ale," the man said. "I've driven up from Cork just to try it."
He was from Cornwall and was on a Slow Food pilgrimage around Ireland; his next stop was Murphys Ice Cream shop in Dingle, run by two New Yorkers who experiment with ever more outlandish flavours of ice creams, such as blue cheese and caramelised shallot.
He was right about the ale; it was rich and malty and wonderful. I asked him how he had heard about it. "Us foodies have a network," he said. "We keep each other up to date. Do you know Bill Hogan?" I shook my head, and I could see he was a bit taken aback. Patiently, he explained that Hogan was Ireland's most heroic food producer and had just been recognised with a major award from the Observer.
Why had I never heard of him? "You ought to ask yourself that," he said in a conspiratorial tone. "Someone is keeping you in the dark." He went on to explain that Hogan was originally a New York philosopher who had gone to work for Martin Luther King as an aide the day after President Kennedy was shot.
Later, after King and Bobby Kennedy were killed, he knew he had to do something positive and, taking guidance from a book by Gandhi given to him by King, set about learning to make cheese. Gandhi stressed the importance of cheese-making for stability and sustainability. So Hogan went to Costa Rica and then to Switzerland to learn how to make cheese. He settled in Ireland 30 years ago and developed Gabriel and Desmond cheeses, with Séan Ferry. "Admirable," I said, "but hardly heroic."
The man went on to tell me how for the past five years the Government has been battling to prevent Hogan from making his cheese in the traditional way, using unpasteurised milk. The Department of Agriculture had spent more than €1 million of taxpayers' money fighting him through six court cases, until finally the courts declared his cheese was fine and that the department had tried to "bend the science to support its case".
It all exacted an enormous personal and financial strain on Hogan. Anyone else would have caved in, the man said, but not him. The Government didn't realise that when it took on Hogan it was taking on Gandhi and King, too.
I asked him what the cheeses were like, but he refused to say. "Go taste them for yourself," he said. "You owe it to yourself to find out what's happening around you. Do you know of Pióg Pies?" I shook my head, and he sighed. "Head into Dingle straight away and keep asking people until you find out. This country is experiencing a quiet revolution, and no one seems to care."
manchan@ireland.com