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Columnenough is enough
Kelly Earley I like spice bags as much as the next person, but we need to draw the line
What was once the perfect post-pub meal from the local Chinese has somehow ended up on pizza, in pubs and even in 1950s-style diners, and it’s a bit much.
AS IRISH PEOPLE, there are some standard recommendations that we give to tourists who are visiting Dublin for the first time. Check out the Guinness Storehouse. Go to Howth Head. Ramble around Temple Bar. Leave Dublin. Order a spice bag.
Over the last decade, spice bags have become synonymous with Irish cuisine. It’s not hard to understand why when you recall that some of our previous delicacies have ranged from tripe boiled in milk to the delicious, though unsightly, coddle.
The salted, spiced chips and chicken have become the culinary counterpart of Guinness. They’ve left our humble deli foods and chicken fillet rolls in the dust, growing into something far bigger.
Maybe this is down to their availability around the clock. Maybe it’s the dual-use as a drunken dinner that can be reheated eight hours later to serve as a lifesaving hangover lunch.
Unlike most things in this country, spice bags are generally decent value for money. Often, the portions are so generous that a single spice bag could be shared between two people. When you find a Chinese takeaway that does a truly special spice bag, there’s an immediate sense of loyalty that’s established. You go back to it again and again and again.
Abroad, Irish diaspora try desperately to recreate the dish and plate it up to homesick immigrants all over the UK, Canada, the US, Australia and all of the other places that you find droves of Irish people overseas.
When celebrities visit Ireland, they’re urged to try spice bags and report back. Florence Pugh, Margot Robbie and Zendaya are among the calibre of actors who’ve been filled in on the lore of spice bags. As far as we know, James Charles may oddly be the most famous person who has actually made the pilgrimage to try one for himself.
If it’s not broken…
Personally, I am something of a spice bag purist. I genuinely believe the only place that a spice bag belongs is in a charmless neighbourhood Chinese takeaway.
Suburbs like Coolock, Tallaght and Finglas have perfected this art form. It’s an affront to nature to stray beyond the perfect formula developed in Dublin’s suburbs.
In fact, I have a theory that every kilometre you get closer to the Spire, the worse the spice bags get. Before people get up in arms, Xian Street Food is an exception to this rule. Though widely lauded, I still think it doesn’t have a patch on what you can get beyond the city’s canals.
It’s best if the takeaway is a one-off, like Hoi Wun in Finglas, though chains like Lemon Tree and Summer Inn can sometimes get a pass. None of these restaurants tries to reinvent the wheel, instead choosing to embrace the classic spice bag style that made the dish such a national hit in the first place.
Spice bag saturation
Throughout the years, we’ve all made fun of food fads at one point or another. Maybe it was the proliferation of Dubai chocolate that got you. Maybe you’ve noticed that every single fast food restaurant in Ireland seems to be ramming hot honey and ranch sauce down their customers’ throats.
Another trend that elicited widespread critique was the colonisation of Dublin by doughnut shops a decade ago, when they seemingly appeared on every corner of the city overnight.
While all of those things took place, something was happening right underneath our noses, and we didn’t seem to notice or care. There’s been a gradual and quiet epidemic unfolding where restaurants that specialise in all kinds of cuisine beyond Chinese food have taken it upon themselves to plaster spice bags onto their menus.
Indian restaurants like Ela and Thindi have valiantly created their own spin on the spice bag. Though I must admit these are pretty nice, I’m still hesitant to embrace this. Indian restaurants are perfect as they are and do not need to change anything about themselves.
The world of pizza has also been corrupted by the introduction of spice bags. Mizzoni and Apache Pizza have both chucked salt and chilli chicken onto otherwise normal margherita pizzas. It’s inescapable. You can get a spice bag in a pub. You can get a spice bag in a petrol station.
Ubiquity
Almost a decade ago, Tayto introduced spice bag flavour crisps. I recall thinking: “That’s ambitious. That’s innovative.” Now, in 2026 as I witness the rollout of lobster spice bags or Boojum’s hot honey spice bag, I envy the naive person I once was. I never realised the level of spice bag fatigue that would eventually await me.
Just scroll through any takeaway app, and you’ll see it. Spice bags have invaded the menus of sandwich shops like Doughboys, along with restaurants that have names suggesting they have one speciality: Dublin Kebab. Tokyo Kitchen. Camden Rotisserie. Spice bags have even travelled back in time to the 1950s-style diners that Eddie Rockets purports to replicate. This dish was not designed to be consumed under harsh fluorescent light on a Formica tabletop, while Wake Up Little Susie by the Everly Brothers is playing in the background.
Many of the businesses that I’ve listed are restaurants that I hold dear to my heart, thanks to the other dishes on their menus. They are great at what they do, so it disappoints me to see them veering into creating another spice bag fusion dish. Why do we need a 1950s spice bag?
I cannot help but ask, who is ordering spice bags from these restaurants? How are so many of us deviating from the blueprint laid out by our local takeaways?
We’ve reached a stage where a salty chip no longer has to pass my lips for me to feel the adverse effects of this dish. If I think about this all too much, I feel my blood pressure rise from the mere mention of a spice bag.
Kelly Earley is a writer and podcaster from Coolock, who has a deep interest in culture, technology, community and social justice. She writes for The Journal every week.
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