Whether you call the gem on Kerry’s tip Dingle, An Daingean or Daingean Uí Chúis, it is easy to see why locals bicker over the name.
They’ve little else to fight about, having sweeping views of the Atlantic Ocean teeming with seafood, heart-stopping purple mountains, cerulean skies and generous dollops of cumulus humilis that look like my grand-mother’s over generous portions of whipped cream.
I was in Kerry for the Dingle Food festival (now firmly in my diary for next year) and spoilt for eating choices. Foodies suggested The Global Village, so off I went with the Scriptwriter who was ‘coincidentally’ in Dingle at the same time.
“Ours is a very long engagement, dear, isn’t it?” she sighed. I was going to need a stiff drink and so was she. We ordered two Kir Royals which appeared with the Cassis resting at the bottom of the glass.
Although this was an incorrect way to serve Kir, it provided a welcome shot of sugar nonetheless – one needed to brace oneself for a difficult chat about the birds and the, well, no bees. Water was brought to the table and, remarkably, for only the second time in eight years, ice was brought separately. Now that’s service.
Wine service was equally professional and the waitress pointed us towards the superb Huia Pinot Gris, Marlborough, 2007, New Zealand. The menu makes for a happy nautical read, and starters included pan-seared peppered tuna loin on a tarragon and onion polenta cake with saffron cream and olive tapenade  whole Dingle Bay prawns and risotto of monkfish, lobster and wild mushrooms with garden herbs. Others included duck liver pâté with grape compot and melba toast and baked goat’s cheese with an apple and cucumber salsa.
So varied is the offering within its own canon, it was nearly impossible to make a choice – so I picked three. I started with half a dozen Cromane oysters, three of which were served au natural and three with caramelised shallot and blue cheese ice cream. I wouldn’t be surprised if newcomers to this dish wept with ecstasy at the erotic taste of the sea sliding down.
Locals, on the other hand, must be bored with the original and have added the kinky stuff of savoury Murphy’s ice cream.

The Scriptwriter had the medallions of lobster on a potato rosti with a soft poached free range egg and hollandaise sauce. This combination of flavours was professionally married, so that individual notes still sang and contrasting textures thrilled the senses.
For the main course, I had the whole Ventry Bay lobster from the restaurant’s own tank with simple hot lemon butter (also available baked in tomato, parmesan and cognac cream). There’s something both Tudor and childlike about eating lobster. Having devoured the hunky meant, there’s the joy of the sweet claws that you have to ferret out with strange tools.
The Scriptwriter had a trio of scallops, John Dory and Monkfish with asparagus and Béarnaise sauce. This was another delightful dish.
For dessert we shared the dark chocolate and Cointreau tart with raspberry coulis and Bailey’s ice cream. This was deep, dark and long lasting – a slinky dessert that spoke of luxury. We still managed to fit in the cheese board with Ardrahan and Cashel Blue, which was perfectly chambréd.
The restaurant’s name, The Global Village, gives the impression of ‘confusion cuisine’ served by earnest foodies clad in Birkenstock. The reality could not be more different. The smart but cosy dining area is peopled with friendly, knowledgeable staff, and the menu is a fish lover’s dream. Ideal for a romantic dinner.