Jim Murray

On whiskey in winter: Some like it hot

By AMBROSE CLANCY // It was raining horizontally, with sleet, driven by a December gale. We could hear the sea pounding the concrete strand one street away as we ducked down an alley with the sharp smell of turf fires on the wind. No one was around, except the two village dogs crouched in a doorway, just their noses sticking out to the wind. Soaked, shivering, we made it into the safe harbor of the…


Pods? Grande pumpkin things? Not cool, beans

By AMBROSE CLANCY // I have become what I feared I would become. A coffee snob. Not that person at Starbucks ordering a grande macchiato pumpkin spice with dark chocolate shavings – please – but the one who can’t drink bad coffee. My friend, bon vivant Jim Murray of Dublin and Brussels, lives by the code of refusing things on the basis of LITS (Life Is Too Short). For him, it applies mostly to mediocre…