It’s not often one gets to combine two passions but just before I finally shut the Restaurant I did a Bloomsday dinner for the English department in the WIT.
I managed to work out a whole menu from Ulysses (with a touch of “Portrait ” and “Finnegans Wake”)-which I had studied hard for my finals in UCD, 35 years previously.
(And with some help from Declan Kiberd and who pointed me to Alison Armstrong’s “The Joyce of Cooking”)

Bloomsday Dinner In Dwyers Restaurant
Wednesday June 16th 2004

Lambs Kidneys with Mustard Sherry
(“Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.“)
or
Devilled Crab with Cucumber Salad
(“A nice salad cool as a cucumber,Tom Kernan can dress.
Pure Olive Oil…God made food, the devil the cooks. Devilled Crab.”)
or
Gorgonzola Salad with Mustard Dressing
(“Gorgonzola have you? Mustard Sir?..
a warm shock of air heat of Mustard hanched on Mr Blooms Heart”)
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Green Pea Soup
(“Whats in the pot?–Shirts, Maggy said. Boody cried angrily-Crikey is there nothing for us to eat? Katey, lifting the kettlelid…A heavy fume gushed in answer…-Peasoup“)
or
Fennel and Pernod Sorbet
(“Somewhere in the East….Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet.Wander all day”)
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Roast Fillet of Beef with Cabbage
(“His heart astir he pushed in the door of the Burton restaurant….
.Wonder what he was eating…Roast Beef and Cabbage“)
or
Fillets of Sole de la Dudebat
(with White Wine and Mushrooms)
(“May I tempt you to a little more filleted Sole Miss Dudebat?
Yes ,do bedad.And she did bedad“)
or
Crepes of Onions and Mushrooms
(“After all,Bloom relents,there’s a lot in that vegetarian flavour
of fine things from the earth,crisp of Onions and Mushrooms.”)
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Molly’s Pear and Almond Tart
(“I’d love a big juicy pear now to melt in your mouth
like when I used to be in the longing way“)
or
Brown Bread Ice Cream with Caramel Whiskey Sauce
(“Round Rabaiotti’s halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble”
“Our Lady of Mount Carmel.Sweet name too:Caramel“)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Glass of Sloe Gin
(“…and a sloegin for me…Boylan eyed,eyed. Tossed to fat lips his chalice,
drankoff his tiny chalice, sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops“)