Dublin for The Food Pilgrims: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

A food hall in a Victorian telephone exchange, Irish cheeses and charcuterie downstairs and a wine cellar below; a glass at the cellar bar is the start.

Diageo's whiskey distillery in the old Guinness power station, a tour that ends with a cocktail class and three drams opposite the Storehouse.

A small dining room off Merrion Row with a short, precise menu and a wine list worth reading. Book ahead, or take a seat at the counter and watch the kitchen.

The Saturday market under the square's retractable umbrellas: oysters shucked to order, Gubbeen chorizo, Sheridans cheese and a Wicklow sourdough.

Lynda Booth's school by the DART teaches the half-day classes the city's cooks actually took; book the fish or bread session.

Damien Grey's Michelin-starred room with twenty seats in a market yard, a tasting menu that changes with the boats; book the moment the month opens.

Seven floors round a pint-glass atrium, the tasting rooms and the Gravity Bar; go for the stout academy, not the gift shop, and pour your own.

The 1833 pub against the cemetery wall serves Dublin coddle, the sausage and potato stew the city was raised on, with a pint that settles slowly.

Carlingford oysters by the half dozen, crab toast and a chowder, at a counter in Temple Bar that the fish people themselves eat at.

Breakfast at the Liberties café the antique dealers use: the rarebit, the pastries from Bread 41, and a coffee that ends the weekend properly.

The last of the old street traders, fruit and fish sold from prams and barrows with a Dublin accent, on the street behind the 1916 garrison.

Fish and chips from the shop that has fried them since 1913, wrapped in paper, eaten on the wall of Christ Church across the road.