As the wine flows, so does the talk. The bearded, ponytailed Terry Butterly quickly takes the floor. "I fished for 35 years," he tells us. "I was a prawn fisherman, a herring fisherman, a lobster fisherman, but I sold my fishing business before Christmas 2004 and just process fish now. Fishing is too hard, and none of my five kids wanted to go into it." The fishing off Ireland is so good, he says, because the water is so deep and 90 percent of the water in the inlets changes with every tide. "Norway and Scotland have fjords with shallow shelves," he says, "and only 10 percent of the water changes." Butterly is a splendid storyteller, and he goes on to spin yarns that, it suddenly dawns on me, are the real "fish stories"—not banal tales of huge sea creatures evading the wily angler but well-structured anecdotes that stretch on and on until you realize that, somewhere along the way, you've left dry land. One involves a stowaway cat and a cross-eyed otter called Monkey; another is about a gigantic lobster who turns off his own cooking pot.