News emerged this week that Bandon Road, Cork institution, Jackie Lennox, will close on October 6th. And while Cork people are capable of arguing for days about the best chipper in the city, everyone recognises Jackie Lennox’s as a true original.
It’s fair to say that Jackie’s is pure Cork.
As our farm was about 30 miles outside Cork, Jackie’s wasn’t a regular thing when I was young. It was a treat when you went to the city with your parents. It was something that you’d tell everyone in school about the next day.
Joining the queue, shuffling along, getting your order right in your head, nervous that you’d shout it out wrong when the time came, forever marking yourself as a gowl.
The staff would come to the counter and say, ‘Who’s next?’ taking multiple orders at a time, committing them to memory. I marvelled at how they did it. I made sure I was ready when my time came.
[ Cork chip shop Jackie Lennox's to close after serving more than 14m bags of chipsOpens in new window ]
The life-size model of a dog-shaped money box from the Guide Dogs by the till.
Being lifted on to the counter by my dad, getting a little fork with some piping hot chips. How special that made me feel.
Watching the cooked items appear, ready for the person manning the front to wrap the orders. Listening to them occasionally shouting into the kitchen for a missing potato pie, piece of fish or battered sausage that hadn’t appeared on time.
Baskets of golden, freshly fried chips being decanted, waiting for scooping.
Newspaper wrapping being folded and rolled. ‘Salt and vinegar?’
Stuffing a few salt sachets into my pocket, ready for the car.
Eating our chips in Dad’s old Land Rover in the dark on the road outside. If we had my mother’s car, the windows were rolled right down so the smell of chips wouldn’t linger and give the game away.
Learning how to fold the newspaper so that nothing would fall out. Drinking from a wobbly plastic pint bottle of milk with the foil lid pierced by a thumb.
After moving to the city and studying in UCC, treating myself to a bag of chips and a can of Lilt when I was flush.
Occasionally trying out new items, and then going back to my regular order of a batter burger, chips and carton of curry. Don’t mess with what works. Everyone has their personal order.
Occasionally trying a new chipper that someone recommended to you. Always returning to Jackie’s.
On the day of my viva voce (the final PhD exam), standing frozen with nerves. Not able to eat. Being taken up to Jackie’s, perched on the tall seats and persuaded to eat some chips and drink a can of Lilt, all while dressed up and in a pair of Prada heels. After leaving Cork, finding myself popping in for ‘just a bag’ when I was home, needing that familiar taste. Dublin chippers just don’t compare.
Lately, when home, sitting down with my parents, sisters, brother in law and niece, having just collected our order. Unwrapping all the packets, the criss-crossing of items around the table until everyone gets what they ordered.
The silence as everyone digs in and the joy of seeing my niece enjoy her chips. Watching the tradition start for another generation.
Now that tradition is interrupted. We’ll switch to another chipper, but it will never be the same. No more little paper bags with the Jackie’s gothic-style script. No more of their epically good curry sauce. No more Jackie’s full stop.
Best wishes to owners, brother and sister, Brian and Frances Lennox, who have made a very tough decision. So long and thanks for all the chips.
