Our path would be lined with a multitude of local wineries, including the infamous Inniskillin.
My first reaction was to retreat to the car and evaluate our alternatives. The nearest McDonald's would involve venturing further from the hiking POI, leading to an even more delayed start. I heaved a sigh of helplessness, then settled for the only other source of sustenance in the district.
Comprising of cheese-topped sourdough slices and airy squares of focaccia, this small platter was easily one of the best elements of the meal. The sourdough boasted a tangy centre encased in a thin, savoury rind, while the focaccia was supple and plush. It resisted deformation, springing back to its original height after each bite of olive oil-topped goodness.
Unlike Buchanans, butter was served in a ramekin, though appearing roughly chopped from a block instead of being shaped meticulously.
Service was pleasant, albeit ungenuine. The meal spanned longer than desired, but within the expected time range. At the 1:30 PM mark, we would consolidate (my) leftovers, journey onto the tiled flooring of the fancy washroom facilities, and remove ourselves from the comforting setting of Inn on the Twenty.