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Richard Corrigan's Ireland
With a career shaped by au-naturel Irish cuisine, the Corrigan’s Mayfair chef takes us on a tour of his homeland, from fishing for mackerel off the south coast to sharing a pint with barristers and butchers in Dublin
If ever a chef is the product of his environment, it’s Richard Corrigan. ‘I grew up on the west side of County Meath, just outside Dublin, and it’s all farming out there: dairy, grain, wheat, and the weekend was sacrosanct for hunting and outdoor pursuits. ‘Everyone had a garden,’ he adds, ‘and I don’t romanticise this as a chef, but you rarely went to shops for vegetables; people in the country grew their own roots, salads, rhubarb.
‘We had a small farm, with a bit of everything, cattle, pigs, sheep – we were forever chasing sheep through gaps in hedges – so you’d be running around like a lunatic, chopping wood, and if you weren’t at school, you were out working,’ explains Richard, one of seven (three girls, four boys). ‘We killed a pig twice a year, and the one that went in November was always a big beast. As soon as we’d butchered it, we’d take out the fillet, cut it into little pieces – almost still warm – and toss it in a cast-iron pan with a little butter and salt and eat it like tapas on a slice of bread – delicious.
‘Some people live to eat, and we lived to work and eat, and I’m lucky enough to say we ate well, thanks to the wonderful produce put on our table. My mother made fresh bread every day and also made all the jams, and we were self-sufficient.
‘Once you get that taste of au naturel as a child, it’s ingrained in your palate for the rest of your life; you know what’s good and what’s not so good.
‘Those very early days of programming are why I make fresh bread in my restaurant,’ he continues. ‘I’m always chuffed if people say they can smell it when they come in, because it’s welcoming. It’s my house they’re coming into, my hospitality.’
Before he had his own ‘house’,
he worked in a local hotel run by
renowned chef Ray Vaughan,
moving on to periods in both
Amsterdam and Rotterdam.
He then ‘started the harsh climb’
in London that would ultimately
see him win Michelin stars at both
Stephen Bull and Lindsay House,
then take over Bentley’s in 2005
and open Corrigan’s Mayfair
three years later.
And throughout, Ireland’s food heritage had an influence. ‘The naturalness and simplicity of my youth kept me on the straight and narrow in my head,’ he says.
Before Brexit, meat for Corrigan’s – including all his beef, Hereford Prime – would come from Ireland. So, too, would the ‘salads, roots, shoots, soft fruits, everything’ grown on his little slice of the Emerald Isle, Virginia Park in County Cavan, an hour or so north-west of Dublin. The connection goes back a long way. ‘I was married in a wonderful country estate called Virginia Park Lodge,’ he explains. ‘It had everything I wanted there: a good chef, lake setting, massive woodland. Then, seven and a half years ago, I bought it and have been very busy refurbishing it.
‘It’s the most pleasurable project in my life. We’re rewilding areas and letting the birds and pheasants have them; we’re planting orchards and gardens – and what’s amazing is we’re planting trees for another generation. I look at the redwood there, planted 250 years ago for the people that came after, and it puts everything into perspective.’
Across 900 acres, including 700 acres of woodland, Richard is curating his own Irish idyll.
‘I’ve never had a home back in Ireland,’ he continues, ‘but I do have a little cottage with no phones, no internet, down the Hook Peninsula in County Wexford. When I’m there people are always saying, “We’ve been trying to reach you, but couldn’t,” – it’s so good, so good.
‘I’ve got a little boat I go out on in summer and catch mackerel. I’ll buy a couple of local lobsters and sit and read, listen to music and recharge my batteries. You’re constantly stressed in hospitality, so taking time to suck up the air on the coast, recharging, that’s what I do in Ireland. I run away from tourism and hospitality, so if I see lots of cars down on the coast, I won’t be stopping.
‘I’m looking for obscure and they’ve got that in rural Ireland. You’ll still find bars where they’ve got record players that have been there 40 years. The barman is 65 in a shirt and tie, and when a youngster comes in, they just shout “Out!” I love it, like my own private country club.
‘West Cork is lovely,’ he continues, ‘and Connemara, Clare, Donegal, Sligo, all of the west coast is must-see for anyone on their first visit.
‘Then you’ve got to go to the south-east, to Waterford and the Hook Peninsula, where they’ve got a beautiful Norman lighthouse that still works. You can sit there looking out to sea, enjoying a beer.
‘There’s a wonderful small hotel nearby, Dunbrody House Hotel, with a café in the courtyard, and it feels like a secret café. Last time, I had a guinea fowl with Italian lentils, absolutely delicious, and then shared a tarte tatin. It’s such a relaxed cool environment, my type of place.
‘There’s a great little seafood bar called The Hollow Bar just outside Arthurstown, County Wexford, which has no menus – everything trawler delivered. And then just along the coast to Dunmore, there’s a café called The Lemon Tree, where I always get my coffee and cake.
‘On to Tramore, and there’s the amazing Seagull Bakery – bloody hell, I got a cronut there. I did a double take and had to walk out and in again: hipster Brooklyn has hit Ireland. This American couple came over from Brooklyn and opened a bakery, and I’m not joking, walking into there is like going to Paris 35 years ago, all sourdoughs and pastries.
‘The kids of my age aren’t interested in large urban centres, they’re coming to dilapidated old towns on the coast and revitalising them with their skill. As I was sitting there, the queue formed, and it wasn’t all hipsters like in England. It was normal folk who, ten years ago, just bought supermarket crap, now they queue for decent bread. That’s when you know a country is changing – they’re look for good bread.
Dublin is, naturally, the jumping-off point for many, including Richard. ‘The must-visit is Chapter One, with a Finnish-Irish chef called Mickael Viljanen. He was at The Greenhouse, where he got two Michelin stars, and he’s a good buddy. For polished haughtiness, you don’t need to go to Paris, go to Dublin.’
Knowing where to drink in
the capital is obviously of vital
importance. ‘One of life’s
privileges is the characters you
meet when you’re having a
pint in Dublin.
What’s unusual about an Irish bar is you’ll get a barrister, judge, surgeon and butcher all sat at the counter next to each other having a pint.
'For that, the tiny front bar of Gibney’s of Malahide, north of Dublin, is finest. It’s where I’ve had many whiskies and a lot of pints, with the greatest laughter, greatest jokes and greatest fun in many a year.’
For all the traditions that makes Corrigan’s Ireland so appealing, it’s the new wave of chefs, artists and artisans that are shaping it for the better. ‘I’ve seen a massive change,’ he says. ‘I wind up my Irish buddies by saying Ireland is becoming like Denmark. It’s much more measured, very well educated, but they haven’t abandoned music, books and poetry. It’s in great hands with this next bunch coming through. They’re going to make it an even cooler, better place.’
Seeing live music is also high on Richard’s Ireland list, and he reels off the names of musicians we should seek out – John Francis Flynn, Lankum, Lisa O’Neill, Ye Vagabonds – and it’s ultimately the arts that ensure he eventually ends up back there.
‘Ireland’s got a haunting beauty, melancholy and also this celebration of happiness – it’s a poetic landscape, and that’s not bullshit. A place where working-class people talk about music and poetry is where I want to put my bones in the ground.’
Richard's Hotspots
Home from home, with incredible staff. I don’t think there’s any finer person to welcome you to a hotel in the world than the manager, Peter McCann. This is what hotels should be like without going over the top. It’s the finest place in Ireland to stay; nobody else is near it.
Unusually for such an accomplished guy, the chef here, Mickael Viljanen, is such good fun and a good host, and he cooks at the highest level.
It’s the coolest café in Dublin and where you go for great coffee, a lovely simple salad and amazing bread. Go in there and ask them what to do in town, what poets to see, what music to listen to, what’s cool, what’s happening.
I had some langoustine and a cracking bottle of organic red there recently, and the wine was absolutely fantastic. Good staff and hospitality and reasonably priced too. They also do a good shared steak, classic rare. Sometimes it’s the simple things done well that make the finest dining.
I’ve got huge respect for this comfortable country restaurant and the chef Gearóid Lynch. I’ve been there 40 times, and they do wild venison, pottage, wonderful tart, great wine list.
Words by Alex Mead
This interview was taken from the March 2022 issue of Food and Travel magazine. To subscribe today, click here.
