The oysters are Carlingford Lough Pacific rock (Crassostrea gigas), pulled from trestles ten minutes' drive away, where the lough's brackish water (sea coming in, mountain rivers coming down) gives them a clean, cucumber-finish brininess we have not tasted anywhere else in Ireland. Deborah orders the half dozen and a pint of Guinness, sits at the small table inside the front door, and considers this one of the most underrated lunches in the country. No tourists. No mignonette. The barman shucks them himself.
Pair the visit with a walk up the Slieve Foye loop above the village, or the seven-minute ferry across to Greencastle on the northern shore. Stay the night at Ghan House, the Georgian on the edge of the village, and come back to the Anchor for a second half dozen before dinner.