By the time she met up with my friend Kate in Dublin, my daughter had already been traveling around Europe solo for a month — a compressed version of the junior year abroad that was hijacked by COVID. She had seen castles and cathedrals, as well as eaten in bierhauses and Lagkagehusets. But in Dublin, along with a rugby match and the Book of Kells, my vagabond on a budget experienced something that really blew her mind: an epic meal in an iconic restaurant.
Kate had taken her to the Irish outpost of The Ivy, where upscale cuisine is served with a Celtic twist. And while every part of the heavenly meal my daughter later described made me want to hop on Aer Lingus immediately, it was the whiskey-spiked creme brûlée that really me drool.
