An Irish Chef in France

Euro-Toques chef Martin Dwyer, is much missed in Ireland since he and his wife Sile sold their eponymous restaurant in Waterford and moved to France. They now live in the Languedoc, where they take guests - and feed them very well.

Plus ca change…. This month Martin tells us about the rituals and traditions of the Dwyer Christmas

Christmas for me has always been a time when the rituals, the traditions, however recently invented, are observed.

As a child in Cork, and the youngest of seven children, I was put in a most favourable position. Our tradition there was that no decorations put on walls, no tree, no lights, no holly until the youngsters (always me) went to bed on Christmas Eve.

That meant that for us not only was there the stomach churning excitement of the arrival of the presents from Santa but also there was the total amazement of coming down stairs on Christmas morning to see the house transformed into a Christmas grotto.

There were however some strict rules which were observed. The main one of these was that the room where the tree was, underneath which all the presents were stashed, was taboo until after breakfast, mass and until Granny had arrived.

That was a tough one. These were the big presents. Our offerings from Santa while exciting were really stocking fillers, sweets, some tiny toys and always a tangerine (that’s what we called them then) in the toe.

The Tree moment would produce all sorts of goodies. I remember a moment when there was a tiny puppy lined up for me, and another occasion when the present was a new tweed suit (with short pant legs) which (I was a bit of a dandy then) did not disappoint me in the least.

Once the pre-tree formalities had been endured we were lined up at the door, always youngest first, and then (I do blush a little at this) we all held hands and danced around the tree singing “Here we go round the Mulberry Bush” before the wonderful distribution of the presents began.

This was all stretched out exceedingly by having an appointed “ Present Caller”, he (it was usually my eldest brother) would be responsible to announce each present and only then were we allowed to start opening it. With seven children, two parents and myriad uncles, aunts and grannies this could take some time (you do the maths) but the excruciating anticipation was always well worthwhile.

After that it was off to my Granny Dwyer’s house for lunch , then back home for dinner, with probably upwards of twenty to thirty adults in our house that night. There we would get glimpses of how badly our aunts and uncles could behave. I remember one uncle’s paper hat being set on fire by another before being doused by a soda water fountain by a third.

I don’t think I have ever managed to hit those high moments of hedonism for my childrens’ Christmas celebrations - on reflection this is probably just as well, but I have managed to impose some of my family traditions on our celebrations.

Santa has always in our house played a minor role - I reckon we were too selfish to allow the credit for our purchase of toys to be allotted to some guy from the north pole - he just gave the usual stocking fillers and yes, always the orange in the toe of the stocking.

We also always insisted on the Christmas tree ritual, no presents until after breakfast. Breakfast has also changed quite a lot since our Rashers and Eggs with tea in the fifties. We now have the luxury of Scrambled Eggs with Smoked Salmon and this we eat with Bucks Fizz (maybe the old Cork traditions are resurfacing here too).

And now we only manage one dinner, and that in the late afternoon.

Strangely, it is my daughters who have remained adamant that not a single bit of these rituals be changed even as they get older and, of course now that there are two grandsons to be introduced to the mix it is very unlikely that they ever will be.

It is only with the greatest difficulty that I managed to persuade and cajole them to let me change from Turkey to Goose about five years ago.

This year is one of our favoured years and they are all coming out to us in France to celebrate Christmas. I am as excited about this as I used to be as a six year old trying to get to sleep on Christmas Eve.

The way the French celebrate Christmas is, especially in their culinary traditions, different to ours. Their main feast is on Christmas Eve night and then they indulge in all sorts of shellfish; lobsters, prawns and oysters.

Obviously there is no way that I am going to get away with this travesty being presented as Christmas Dinner to my tradition loving family so I now have to do what any self-respecting émigré chef would and observe both culinary traditions.

So it’ll be Lobster and Prawns for Dinner on Christmas Eve and Goose and Ham with all the trimmings on Christmas Day. I can’t wait!
 

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Martin Dwyer started cooking professionally over 40 years ago in the legendary “Snaffles Restaurant” in Dublin. After a time in a Relais Chateau in Anjou and in “The Wife of Bath” in Kent he opened his own much acclaimed restaurant, “Dwyers”, in Waterford in 1989. In 2004 he sold this and moved south to France where he and his wife Síle bought and restored an old presbytery in a village in the Languedoc. They now run Le Presbytère as a French style Chambre d’Hôte. Martin however is far too passionate about food to give up cooking so they now enjoy serving dinner to their customers on the terrace of Le Presbytère on warm summer evenings. Martin runs occasional cookery courses in Le Presbytère and Síle’s brother Colm does week long Nature Strolls discovering the Flora and Fauna of the Languedoc. 

Le Presbytère can be seen at: www.lepresbytere.net; 
email: martin@lepresbytere.net