‘Irish tapas’: These pub delicacies must be what heaven feels like

There is no greater feeling than sitting in a cosy pub, elbow to elbow with friends, knees raised on the crossbar of the diminutive, carpeted bar stool, cheeks rosy with laughter and warmth. There is a gap left by an absent friend, but he has not emigrated, nor passed, nor found something better to do, God forbid. He is merely doing what we all must do when the time comes. He is partaking in the time-honoured Irish tradition of standing his round.
He carries down two pints, then two more, waving away offers of help. On his third return he casts his arm over the table with a flourish and from his hand falls a bounty of riches – cheese-and-onion crisps, salted peanuts and at least three packets of bacon fries.
The group falls upon them with glee, carefully rearranging the tableau to accommodate the feast. The bags must be carefully opened down one seam and spread out to allow access to all. Inevitably the feasting will come to an end but the hunger for salty snacks will not be sated. Another soul will be dispatched for yet more bags. “Get salt and vinegar as well,” is the cry they’ll hear as they head off on their quest.
[ Salad days: When rocket came to IrelandOpens in new window ]
The only greater feeling than being the recipient of what’s fondly called “Irish tapas” or “pub tapas” is to be the one delivering the treats. Acting as a sort of Santa Claus of snacks brings an incredible hit of dopamine, and the element of surprise is key. The conditions must be just right for the execution of Irish tapas: space for the open bag plating, room for everyone to reach in to take their share, a busy pub but not too packed. Too packed and you risk alienating other patrons with your smug camaraderie and hoarding of real estate. Plus, the bar staff have more to be doing than fetching fresh cardboard sleeves of scampi fries for you and your mates. But when the circumstances are favourable, it’s what heaven must feel like.
The hierarchy of Irish tapas menu items has long been discussed, disputed and rewritten. It’s largely subjective but the menu can generally be sectioned into “potato crisps”, “corn snacks” and “nut products”. Traditionally, Tayto cheese-and-onion crisps are heralded as the country’s favourite, but in the pub it’s all to play for. Manhattan – probably best known for its popcorn – has a boldly named “Pub Crisp” product in a sleek black bag. I’m not afraid to stick my neck out and say the Manhattan Pub Crisp wipes the floor with its competitors. Write your letters of dissent if you must, but I am a woman of crisp principles.
In the corn snack division, there are really only two names worth mentioning. Smiths “Bacon Flavour Fries” and “Scampi Flavour Fries” usually hang tantalisingly by the till just waiting to be pulled down and spread wide open for all to feast upon (is anyone else blushing?). Superfans of both bacon and scampi fries will know that there is an elusive third member in the Smiths corn snack family – Cheese Moments. People will talk in hushed tones of happening upon a packet once in their youth, but these tales are difficult to verify. I have a friend who purchased a full card of Cheese Moments for a loved one’s birthday and, while satisfying their curiosity was indeed a gift, the snacks themselves were proclaimed to be “only all right”.
Completing the Irish tapas trifecta is the humble peanut. Salted should always be the number one choice, in my opinion. Dry roasted leave me cold but I can appreciate that they have their fans. Very occasionally a pub will carry the rare salt and vinegar peanut. It would be a rare snack customer who could leave such a unicorn behind. Sadly, the once popular “hot nut” dispenser seems to have vanished from many bars around the country. Probably for the best, given that purchasing a tiny cardboard cup of the things would almost require taking out a mortgage.
At the height of the pandemic, I remember a friend wondering if we would ever meet again to dissect crisp packets in pubs and engage in what seemed then to be the frankly unsanitary splitting of the corn snacks. While I am dismayed that so many people seem to have abandoned the habit of coughing into their elbows or opening the windows on the bus, I do embrace the continuation of the tradition of Irish tapas. Besides, everyone washes their hands in the pub bathrooms, right? Right?