This morning dawned dark, wet and windy. And thanks to the howling gale that used our bedroom chimney as a kind of…er…wind instrument throughout the small hours, not much sleep was to be had. We live on a hill so we can watch the plain below getting flooded, but the downside is that we are buffeted by the virtual hurricane that continues as I write.

It was a morning for a comforting breakfast, so I cooked the first batch of porridge of the Winter: pinhead oatmeal, water and a bit of salt, cooked and then eaten with a drop of milk. I resisted the temptation to add a splash of cream, something that translates this humble and cheap brekkie into the realms of luxury while, at the same time, taking some of the good and the virtue out of eating porridge in the first place.

For some, there is comfort to be had, too, from Marmite, the love-it-or-hate it yeast extract which has been described as “tar in a jar”. My own Marmite history is unusual in that I acquired a taste for the stuff quite late in life. I think I was pushing forty by the time I embraced (rather a sticky business) the black, viscous stuff that was invented by Baron von Liebig, the man who did much to develop artificial fertilisers if I’m thinking of the right man.

I gather from a straw poll that Marmite is not generally regarded as an acquired taste, i.e. one that you develop with persistence (like drinking Guinness; how many people think, on first draught of this other black stuff, “that’s like mother’s milk’?) The general feeling amongst those whom I asked about it was Marmite enthusiasm is essentially genetic.

Although I steered very clear of the stuff for decades, I do remember a substance called Gye (which stood for Guinness Yeast Extract) and which was still around when I was just about learning how to sleep through the night. I remember having it on toast, and my mother putting into stews and soups. I have a feeling that it was a bit like the rather mild Vegemite from Australia and I suppose, having developed a taste for it, Marmite was just de trop.

Fans will be glad to know that Unilever, who now own the brand, are producing The Bumper Book of Marmite in time for Christmas. Equally, they will be displeased to hear that Peter York, “the style guru” (I wonder is that what it says on his passport?), has declared that Marmite is not an iconic brand. Oh, come on Peter! How much more iconic can a brand be?

Anyway, my mission (should I decide to accept it - and I’m afraid there’s not much choice in the matter) is to go out to our woods and use a shovel to divert an impromptu stream which is moistening a neighbour’s winter barley to an unacceptable degree. I shall return, wet and windswept, and tuck into toast and Marmite. Then I’ll tackle the slow-roast shoulder of lamb (I got the joint for a fiver this morning) and get back to my real work.

The RAI are not putting forward any glib solutions to the problems that restaurants face but they are calling for a reduction in the minimum legal wage from €8.65 to €7.65 per hour and, somewhat bizarrely, for the abolition of VAT on drink in restaurants. The first suggestion makes a great deal of sense. The level of our minimum legal wage is a relic of times that are now dead and buried and we will not see their like again (or, if we do, we should be very worrried) and needs urgent revision. But the chances of getting the Government to exempt restaurant drinks from VAT are nil.

According to the RAI, Ireland is the most expensive country in Europe in which to run a restaurant and I can well believe it. They describe “food input costs” as being a whopping 24% higher than the EU average. And given that we have the highest rate of duty and VAT on wine (including an extra-punitive tax on sparkling wine) it’s a wonder that there are any restaurants left at all.

Having said all that, this is probably the best time ever to eat out. Certainly in Dublin, where there is just about a critical mass in terms of population. Prices are keen, expecially if you get your timing right, there has been a spate of interesting new openings in recent months, more restaurants are taking more care about sourcing, and, while imagination is still a bit of rarity, there is now a very gratifying choice of styles and cuisines out there.

However, if the RAI is right and there is going to be a massive cull of restaurants (and it does seem that there are actually more restaurants in Dublin now than there were at the height of the boom), we can only hope that it will be the less deserving ones that vanish. Given the addiction of The Fates to irony you can be pretty sure that some of the casualties will be restaurants that are doing a very fine job. And that some toxic extablishments will still keep their heads above the flood.

Meanwhile, thanks to The New Yorker, we learn something (not a whole lot, really) about how Michelin inspectors work. The timing is ironic. I guess there was never a time when chefs in Ireland gave less of a damn about Michelin stars. It’s credit rating, not Michelin rating that matters just now.

When I was a cub wine writer I once interviewed a supremely aristocratic head of one of the great Sherry families in his palatial office in Jerez. This was about 20 years ago and I had heard that one of the company’s brandy warehouses had burned down the night before. So I offered my commiserations and the old man shrugged and said “Pah! Democracy!”

Which put a bit of a damper on the conversation. It’s not a phrase that I’ve ever used myself, even when the present Government got in, but having read to the end of The Dubliner’s “People’s Choice Top 10″ I was wondering if voting is ever a good idea. Not that the list is way off, or anything. In fact, the 10 are all places in which I would happily eat but it’s such a mishmash: Here it is:

1 Green Nineteen
2 L’Gueueleton
3 Honest to Goodness
4 Chapter One
5 Jo’Burger
6 Dax
7 Chez Max
8 Bar Pinxto
9 The Unicorn
10 One Pico

Hmmm. Jo’Burger is fine except for occasional outbreaks of terrible service. Bar Pinxto has obviously come on a lot since my last visit. And The Unicorn? In the top ten? Well, well, well. I mean if I were voting for my top ten and were to leave the food aside, The Troc would come in ahead of The Unicorn.

The Dubliner has dropped quite a lot of places, most them understandably (and some of them due to the demise of the business). But why give La Mere Zou (right on song, in my view) the push? And The French Paradox? And The Mermaid Cafe? And The Silk Road Cafe? I can understand the deletion of The Wild Goose if this was based on a visit some time ago. Actually, the food here is very good now - for the first time since it opened.

But that’s the thing about restaurant guides. They are very personal. In my recent Restaurant List (not a “guide” as I stressed at the time), I had room for - I think - 123 places throughout the entire country. And some of my choices were regarded as eccentric. The Dubliner has to choose 100 restaurants in Dublin and some of the choices strike me as a bit odd. Zaytoon, for example. And Shanahan’s. I’m not sure about Peploe’s. Three question marks is not bad.

I only spotted one mistake (as against three in my own effort) which is remarkable. (Martin McCaffrey is multi-talented but he has surely not stepped into the kitchen at his Hole in the Wall pub and become head chef? Have I missed something?)

And, as always with The Dubliner 100 I have found several places which I want to visit. Le Bon Crubeen, for example. And HerbStreet. It has even prompted me to return to The Pig’s Ear.

At €5.99 this little book is a steal. The writing is not quite as acerbic (or borderline actionable) as it was when Trevor White was in charge but it’s still pungent and pithy. But it made me realise that the words “foodie” and “eatery”, with both of which I have sinned, from time to time, now make me want to throw up. Other than that, it’s a useful little volume with which I would be prepared to be seen in public. In fact I’m flaunting it just now but, this being Cork, nobody has noticed….

My first visit to The Storehouse at the Guinness Brewery in St James’s Gate (or “The Brewery as my grandfather called it) this evening and I have to say I’m not surprised that this is Ireland’s leading tourist attraction. The self-guided tour is quite brilliant and the Gravity Bar at the top, with panoramic view of Dublin, is a simply stunning space. Everybody has known this for ages, of course. I’m just a bit slow.

The occasion was the first public showing of a film by Arthur Edward Rory Guinness, 4th Earl of Iveagh, an affectionate history of what was, until comparatively recently, the family firm, and a reminder of how the Iveagh Trust, which still provides low cost housing for people on small incomes, started as the first Earl’s Bull Alley project. Shocked at some of the worst housing conditions in Europe, he set about building the Iveagh flats in the 1890s.

“The Guinness family has been very good to the people of Dublin,” Brendan Behan (a big customer) once said. “But the people of Dublin have been very good to the Guinness family,” he added. Well, it wasn’t just the people of Dublin, of course. You could argue that Guinness was the first brand with a real claim to be global.

I mourn the loss of Guinness Brew 39 which was an astonishingly lovely take on the original Uncle Arthur: given its unique and fragrant character by what I think is called “late hopping”, which is not a dance. But I tried Guinness Mid-Strength this evening and loved it. True, it lacks some of the body of The Real Thing but at - I’m guessing here - about 3% abv it’s a great pint. Served a bit too cold, as all Guinness seems to be these days, but quite refreshing. I wonder if there’s anywhere left that serves the Black Stuff at something nearer room temperature.

When I was small, I had an obsession with trucks and vans and I still treasure a copy of The Observer’s Book of Commercial Vehicles (1966 edition). So you can imagine how pleased I was to find a Bedford TK 1979 artic parked outside, with the proper old Guinness blue and gold livery and three of those huge grey cannisters that were used to send Guinness across the water before the launch of the MV Miranda Guinness.

This boat was named for Ned Iveagh’s mother, Miranda Iveagh who had a bad fall last week and was not able to come to Dublin for the event this evening. But his brother Rory was there along with Moyne cousins Kieran and Desmond and the more distant Straffan branch was represented by Robert Guinness of Steam Museum fame. This is starting to sound like a social column, so enough of that.

But not before mentioning that Ned got one of Guinness’s retired brewers to taste the two beers which he produces in his “great-grandfather’s potting shed” at Elveden in Suffolk. The verdict on the stout was “you need more CO2, but, actually, just stick with the ale.” Elveden Ale and Elveden Stout are sold locally in East Anglia.

Ned’s film Guinness: A Short History by the Earl of Iveagh is available on DVD and part of the proceeds will go to the Iveagh Trust.

What I don’t like is Starbucks. What don’t I like about Starbucks? Let me count the ways…

On second thoughts, let Will self do it for me in the New Statesman.

Foie gras apologists claim that this is fine. It’s not like doing the same to humans, they say, because geese don’t have a gag reflex. Hmm… I still don’t think it’s a nice thing to do to a bird that has not offended us in any way. Or even to a bird that has. When I was watching a friend of mine salivating over an impeccable and very expensive slice of the stuff I casually mentioned the cruelty is issue. “Ah yes,” he said, dreamily. “But you can’t taste the cruelty”.

There’s an amusing piece on foie gras on the blog called Stuff Rich People Love (which, at first, I thought was more pungently titled “Stuff Rich People”).

In any case, I am told by many chefs that foie gras is on the decline. For a start, they say, it’s so dear that it really pushes up menu prices at a time when the impetus is in the other direction and, just as important, a lot of diners, especially younger ones, have ethical issues with eating the stuff.

The City of Chicago banned foie gras a few years ago, causing ructions in the restaurant industry, but repealed by the by-law in 2008.

The ethics of eating foie gras has been explored in at least one recent book but I sometimes wonder if a lot of people who avoid the stuff on moral grounds find themselves eating intensively reared chicken. Not much to choose between the two if you ask me. Except that foie gras tastes a great deal better.

But it was the following passage in the report of the event that really caught my eye:

“The born global award, recognising outstanding achievement in the challenging export market, went to Kerry Foods for its Cheestrings product and Oak Park Foods, Cahir, Co Tipperary won the consumer focus award, recognising product innovation, for its pre-packed bacon rib product launched earlier this year.”

Cheesestrings and bacon ribs? Outstanding? Worthy of a gong from - let’s be clear here - An Bord BIA? Here in the “Food Island”?

This isn’t food as I know it. I don’t know - to my shame - what the Irish for “industrial food processing” is, but I’m starting to think that “An Bord Bia” needs a new name.

In the US, if they are to believed, fried chicken (in various guises and borrowing from South-East Asia) is the Next Big Thing. It will, they say, replace belly pork, which can’t be a bad thing. And they say that “organic” is becoming a bit debased, so “local” and “artisan” will be the new trigger words for the well-heeled.

The following is their list of “buzz words” for food in 2010:

Authentic Neapolitan pizza. Lamb riblets. Too many food
trucks, not enough curb space. Latino street food. Farmed trout creeps up on farmed
salmon. Curry- and Indian-spiced fried chicken. Vietnamese sandwiches (bahn mi).
Gelati. Global comfort food. Artisan hot dogs. Made-to-order ice cream. Chefs turned
butchers. Casual comfort. Touch-screen kiosks and home delivery in fast food outlets.
Latino street food. Wood oven cooking. More energy drinks and adulterated waters.
Mood food. Backyard and rooftop bee hives. Stevia. Kimchee. Urban farms. Griddled
burgers. Free food. House-made everything, especially in sandwiches.

Lamb riblets? Er… I can’t see a whole lot of these catching on in good ole Yerp. Stevia… yeah, right. But I think they are right about “local” and “artisan”. Good restaurants in Ireland have been thinking along these lines for over a year at this stage.

According to a recent study, 2000 Irish pubs will close over the next ten years. This should not be a cause for much grief. We are not talking about the classic, old Irish pub, the likes of Mulligan’s of Poolbeg Street or The Gravediggers or (I hope) my local (when in Dublin), Locky’s (aka O’Loughlin’s) which is opposite St Michael’s Hospital in Dun Laoghaire. These are honest, old-fashioned boozers with a period charm. They may be relics of a past age but I would hope that this particular quality - and the very personal service, sensitive to the locality -is what will save them.

No, the kind of pubs that I want to see vanishing are those soul-less, characterless, charmless establishments which provide merely drink and Sky TV and damn all else, complacent, wildly over-valued establishments that have traditionally commanded a commercial value way beyond their contribution to the sum of human happiness. If they provide food it’s a ham and cheese sandwich (both of the plastic sort) which can be toasted in a cellophane bag. And if they provide wine, it’s 185ml bottles of Chilean plonk. They are the kind of places in which the few remaining customers must surely ask themselves if they would be better off (in every sense) at home.

The publicans still wield considerable political power. They scuppered Michael McDowell’s plans for an Irish “cafe society”. But their economic power is waning and let us hope that soon they will be irrelevant. I don’t think any tears should be shed.

The pubs that will survive are the ones that innovate. The pubs that serve micro-brewed beer, real food, proper wine. And, of course, the ones with real character and personality, to which food (beyond a bag of peanuts, if you’re lucky) is as alien as a wine-of-the-week, and which have not innovated since, at the very least, 1945. All the dross in the middle will go, praise the Lord!

The big new trend in Irish eating, I’m pretty sure, will be pubs that do real food. We have already seen what Olivier Quenet (formerly of Guilbaud’s) is doing in Vaughan’s of Terenure (and now above O’Brien’s on Leeson Street) and a new pub restaurant is opening this week at The Arches in Churchtown. I hear that the Exchequer Bar is doing potted crab… The trend has started and we’re going to see a lot more of this kind of thing. Pubs have the space, the licence (don’t get me started) and the economic imperative (aka the overdraft) to look at food in a different way. Farewell the toasted sandwich and the carvery. Hello the gastropub.