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13th January 2025
09:41am GMT
A new landmark has captured Dublin, and the internet's imagination. An unassuming stone bridge crossing the Royal Canal at Drumcondra Road.
For those who’ve made a weekend pilgrimage to “Cherry Tomato Bridge,” the hype is real. This time last week it was just another overpass to scramble across on your way to Croker or a post-game carvery at Fagan’s. It’s now been memed into cultural significance—earning a coveted spot on Google Maps and bringing waves of curious visitors clutching cherry tomatoes to ad to the shrine.
How did we get here? And what does a handful of frozen tomatoes stuck to a wall have to do with anything? Let’s dive in.
It all began during a recent cold snap when a passerby noticed a few cherry tomatoes seemingly “adhered by frost” to the bridge’s stone surface. Of course, this being 2025, a video of the phenomenon ended up on TikTok. Irish social media users, never ones to leave a humorous image underappreciated, mobilized in droves. Within days, Cherry Tomato Bridge had become “Dublin’s hottest new tourist attraction.” It was legitimised when it hit national news website The Journal. Like Binley Mega Chippy before it, the crowds flocked. The Google Maps entry was created, and before long, the entire city and its diaspora were in on the joke.
@irishdaily Have you visited Cherry Tomatoes Bridge yet?😄 The internet turned this into Dublin’s newest attraction. What started as a joke has now become Dublin’s trendiest spot! 😅☘️#cherrytomatoesbridge #drumcondra . 📸👉 @ɥɐuuɐl∀ 👏😄☘️ #irishdaily #tiktokofthedag #dublin #dublincity #touristattraction #irishtiktok #tiktokireland ♬ Into The Light - Brand X Music
But if you peer beyond the comedic surface—frozen cherry tomatoes stuck to a centuries-old structure—something deeper is happening. It’s a wry commentary on the absurdity of modern life, food culture, and the role of the internet in shaping our cultural landmarks. Food on a wall? Of course that’s worth a detour. We’re starved (pun intended) for amusements that don’t cost a fortune. And of course there’s an ever-growing supply of “strange on the internet.”
Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room: the cost of living in Ireland (and beyond) is skyrocketing. Restaurants are closing left, right, and center. Supermarket prices keep climbing, and a box of brand named cereal feels like an investment piece. Against this backdrop, it’s no wonder that a random handful of tomatoes stuck to a public structure has captured our hearts. It’s free entertainment. Everyone can afford to walk up, snap a photo, and maybe even leave their own offerings of fresh cherry tomatoes or a drizzle of ketchup.
In a way, Cherry Tomato Bridge is a nod to that socio-economic frustration. We can’t all tape bananas to a wall and make a mint. Most people can’t fly off for fancy holidays or fork over big bucks for luxury dining right now. But we can wander over to Drumcondra, fling a tomato onto a wall, and share in a joke that unites thousands of us online.
Anyone under 40 has grown up in an era of broken promises—terrorism, economic recessions, climate anxiety, and a never-ending news cycle. Absurdism, surreal memes, and “nonsensical” humour are our natural responses.
Hence, Cherry Tomato Bridge. If Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain turned a urinal into art, then why not plaster tomatoes on a stone wall and call it something meaningful? When the lines between art, meme, and protest blur, new forms of expression arise. It’s the same energy behind every “food-inspired” microtrend we’ve seen in the last few years—Tomato Girl Summer, Lemon Girl fashion, Baked Beans Girl, you name it—except this time, it’s literal tomatoes physically frozen to an actual structure.
Surreal, nonsensical memes have always been the bread and butter of young internet culture, but rarely do we see them leap so quickly into the real world. To watch Dubliners singing “That’s Amore” to the tomatoes, or leaving spaghetti strands and ketchup packets in homage, is to witness a live performance of absurdist comedy. In comments sections across TikTok, people debate whether the tomatoes are from aliens or part of a government psyop. Others muse about the tomatoes’ meaning as a symbol of fertility or the transience of youth and beauty. Cherry tomatoes, like all modern art, mean what you see and see what you mean.
If that all sounds lofty, well, that’s part of the joke. The less sense it makes, the more it resonates with a generation jaded by broken systems and frantic doom scrolling. As one person wrote on Reddit, “RIP lads, hope we can ketchup on the other side.” The seeds of comedic irony are sown with each new pun, and the fact that it exists on Google Maps, possibly next to directions for an Aldi or a tourist-choked Temple Bar, only adds to the mania.
One of the more striking elements of Cherry Tomato Bridge mania is the spontaneous sense of community it’s created. People gather to snap photos, chat with strangers, and share memes on Twitter (X), Instagram, Reddit, and beyond. For a city that prides itself on humor, Cherry Tomato Bridge is an instant conversation starter. “Have you seen it yet?” “Did you bring your own tomatoes?” “What do you think it means?”
@aoibhcarroll Fun things to do in #dublin ♬ QKThr - Aphex Twin
We might all be starved for a break from weighty political headlines. Or for a chance to connect with others in a lighthearted way—particularly in the gloom of January, when wallets are empty post-holiday and the weather is anything but inviting. While the phenomenon’s surface is silly, it speaks to something deeper: a communal desire to belong, to have an inside joke, to find meaning (or revel in the lack thereof).
The question at the heart of any internet phenomenon: Is it art? Duchamp asked a similar question when he presented that urinal in 1917. If enough people ascribe meaning to it, maybe it is art. Or maybe it’s just a silly gag. That ambiguity is precisely the point.
The threshold for “art” in the 21st century is wonderfully or woefully blurred depending on yourPOV. Everyone’s a “creator” now; ironically, that same democratization often fosters a deeper hunger for real-world, tactile moments of absurdism. And while some might say, “It’s just tomatoes—stop overthinking it,” we can’t help but interpret it anyway. That’s the beauty of art, memes, and nonsense: they invite us to ascribe any meaning we please.
@charlotteryan4 feel pure shite just want cherry tomato bridge experience the drumcondra cherry tomato bridge. ps. Ignore the absolute travesty that is my fresh fringe trim #irishtiktok #cherrytomatobridge #drumcondra #ireland ♬ Mandinka - Sinéad O'Connor
Will Cherry Tomato Bridge go down in Dublin lore as a permanent tourist spot akin to the Trevi Fountain? Probably not. Memes, especially ones rooted in absurdist humor, tend to be as fleeting as the next big scandal or viral dance challenge. But for now it’s giving us a reason to laugh, to gawk, to talk to strangers, and to reflect (however ironically) on the nature of art, culture, and the internet’s power.
That’s part of the excitement. Like any ephemeral creation, Cherry Tomato Bridge’s impact lies in its fleeting existence. So drop by if you can. Snap a photo, share a pun, leave a tomato or two. Become part of the patch of urban surrealism the internet has embraced with open arms.
Meaning is in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes, the best response to life’s dreary drudgery is a hearty laugh at cherry tomatoes on a bridge in Dublin
