17 March 2020
978
R. Linda:
The annual Irish food love fest and excuse for taking more of a nip of the good stuff than be usual has come rolling around. It be a day of me Mam and meself taking over the kitchen to make such Irish traditional goodies as Irish soda bread, potato soup, a drunken cake, and either a shepherd's pie, Irish stew, or bangers and mash. It was bangers and mash this year by request of the boyos, and if we are having that we also make bubble and squeak. Not a very colourful plate for sure, but a tasty one you can be certain. We also have refined the making of a shamrock shake for the boys because with this dreadful disease, we are all hoping to avoid, there will be no McDonald's for a while.
Me Mam and Tonya set a fine-looking table.
Back in the old sod, we wouldn't go to the trouble because it be the food that be the main attraction along with the company, but I see in America one must dress it all up a bit for flare. I remember way back when that St. Patrick's Day dinner was no big deal, but through the years the excuse to party has made it such and well, it be fun for the kiddos and a few big kiddos to boot.
Now me Mam (to look at her, you'd never think she be one for knowing much about the drink, but oh yes she does), she learned it all from me Da she did. While not a drinker herself, she knew what he liked and she provided Guinness, Harp, Killian, whatever the beer of the year was, she got it for himself. And in our house, she was the one who dragged me and me sissy to church while me Da slept in as he did on Sundays -- he did on St. Patrick's too if it fell on a weekend. I think it was to avoid the sainted sanctuary of the Catholic priest who when he saw me Da would squint at him and say, "Is that you, O'Sullivan? Devil got you up did he to grace our presence?" Well, as you can imagine, me Da did not like the scrutiny by the holy man, and the devil won him over and he'd sleep in.
After church, Mam would be in the kitchen and none of us were allowed in. In other households the same was going on, but not all. As I say it was a day you went to church, you were expected to be mindful it was a holy day and treat it as such. Food and drink were not a part of it, but somehow it always seemed so in me house. Maybe it was residual memory from the famine when there was not much to eat or drink, I don't know really, but Mam be a very fine Irish cook, and to be honest I think it be because she loves to concoct delicious meals that she would go to the trouble.
Like the shamrock shakes for the boyos. She makes them so like McDonald's that the kiddos accuse her of getting shakes from there and pouring them in glasses at home. Now they watch her eagerly with tongues hanging out as she makes them. She has even made up a boozy version for the big kids and I will say we have THAT instead of beer.
O'Hare's favourite part of St. Pat's Day dinner, me Mam's shamrock shake
She even has special glasses so we know the difference of which shake be the one with the liquor.
I made the soda bread while she made the soup and there be no finer potato soup inside or outside Ireland than hers. It be smooth, silky and so wonderful I could have it every day if she'd make it.
Me Mam's potato soup with a grown-up Shamrock shake
While I made the bubble and squeak she made the bangers and mash. I know a lot of potatoes are being had, but we be Irish! All prep went well except for one thing. Me Mam be not one for hard liquor, no she isn't. And in so doing the dessert things got out of hand and it be all me fault. I will admit it was me who spoiled dessert not me Mam. The cake calls for a lot of Jameson, and it be a traditional Irish bundt cake it be, with raisins, currents, and a touch of lemon but I can't say a touch of Jameson, though now we think it should be the other way round.
"Sumtings wrong wit dis here recipe." She said to me. "Seems too much Jameson and I tink I made dis once befur and we dint like it. Oh da fumes, Gabriel!"
Fumes was right, I could smell the whiskey from the end of the room. I looked over and was wondering about that too because she usually makes a chocolate cake with Baileys, not Jameson because the whiskey be too strong for young ones.
"I tink you be right," I said, "I don't remember whiskey or lemon cake."
"Too late now, I got it in da oven." She said looking at the cake start to rise.
I got shot glasses and poured us a shot thinking it would settle her.
"Coom on now," I said, "take a shot for old times' sake."
She did and not having had a shot of whiskey for many a year, her eyes lit up with the memory of how smooth Jameson be going down.
"Another?" I said bottle at the ready to pour. She nodded and we downed another and then another and another after that. I vaguely remember the cake coming out of the oven and cooling as we stood around the table talking of old times and then I realised we drank the entire bottle while walking down memory lane. Well, she was definitely in her cups for someone not used to so much whiskey. She started to prepare the icing for the drunken cake and there she was the drunken cook. And well, I didn't pay much attention to what she was doing, because I was hunting down another bottle of Jameson. As luck would have it I found another and was on me way back to the counter when she started cursing up an Irish storm.
"Wot? Wot be the matter dare Mam?" I said and as I reached the counter I saw the cake and this drippy mess of green castor sugar drunkenly sliding its way down the sides of the cake. I realised instantly she used the wrong sugar and not the icing sugar. So she quickly scraped as much of the sugar as she could off the cake. This she put into a saucepan.
"Wot arr ye doon'?" I said putting the bottle down.
"I'll jus heat it up like a glaze." Said she and that's what she did. The sugary mess may have dissolved a wee bit but I knew once it dried it would go back to its crystal form and that's exactly what happened!
It was too late to make a decent and edible cake, so without either of us saying a word we put the cake out for dessert. The eldest noticed it though and said, "That doesn't look right." And he was right but me Mam piped up that he had no clue what he was talking about. Uh right ho, Mam!
He pointed at a dried green blob on the top of the cake and asked what it was.
"Oh dat dare, well I wuz makin' shamrocks I wuz. It be a shamrock."
Right. It looked as much like a shamrock as me big toe does. Oi!
So she cut the cake and it sat on the plates and everyone looked at their piece and then at each other and me Mam seeing this, kicked me under the table so I instantly took a bite and made the "umm umm good," noise and then they all took a bite and they chewed very slowly with funny looks on their faces before the middle child Guido, said, "Dis here tastes weird."
"Oh begorrah and saints alive," says me Mam, "none of ya eat dat, it'll but ya ta sleep fur a week!"
And with the swiftness of a bird of prey, she removed all the cake plates AND the cake and to the trash bin it went. She promises never to drink another shot of whiskey and will bake a Bailey's chocolate cake tomorrow, whiskey-free, her not the cake. Oh, the poor dear be upset her culinary reputation has been shot to shite and no one will want her cooking ever again. Yup, too much whiskey in her still. She'll be better tomorrow.
Oh, the agony of it!
P.S. Mam was so unhappy about that cake that later in the day she redeemed herself by baking another . . . well almost redeemed herself. She got a recipe online of all places, not trusting herself, and when she clicked on the recipe on her very small mobile phone, it clicked down one recipe to a different cake. When she got to the part it said to add sea salt she thought that was odd because sea salt be rather powerful to bake with, but she followed the directions and made a salty dog cake! Yes, it was a salty chocolate cake that was supposed to be filled with caramel and topped with whipped cream and nuts! WHAT TO DO? She had already made her own mint buttercream icing so she stuffed the middle of the cake with that and then made a milk chocolate icing and covered the whole concoction in that, hoping no one would notice the salty flavour. I tell ya the woman can't win today! Anyway, you can't hardly taste the salt, so the cake is edible. Poor Mam, she has filled a rather large water glass with Jameson and has disappeared to her room.
For something she did in a hurry it be good, but she doesn't believe it.
Gabe
Copyright © 2020 All rights reserved
978
R. Linda:
The annual Irish food love fest and excuse for taking more of a nip of the good stuff than be usual has come rolling around. It be a day of me Mam and meself taking over the kitchen to make such Irish traditional goodies as Irish soda bread, potato soup, a drunken cake, and either a shepherd's pie, Irish stew, or bangers and mash. It was bangers and mash this year by request of the boyos, and if we are having that we also make bubble and squeak. Not a very colourful plate for sure, but a tasty one you can be certain. We also have refined the making of a shamrock shake for the boys because with this dreadful disease, we are all hoping to avoid, there will be no McDonald's for a while.
Me Mam and Tonya set a fine-looking table.
Back in the old sod, we wouldn't go to the trouble because it be the food that be the main attraction along with the company, but I see in America one must dress it all up a bit for flare. I remember way back when that St. Patrick's Day dinner was no big deal, but through the years the excuse to party has made it such and well, it be fun for the kiddos and a few big kiddos to boot.
Now me Mam (to look at her, you'd never think she be one for knowing much about the drink, but oh yes she does), she learned it all from me Da she did. While not a drinker herself, she knew what he liked and she provided Guinness, Harp, Killian, whatever the beer of the year was, she got it for himself. And in our house, she was the one who dragged me and me sissy to church while me Da slept in as he did on Sundays -- he did on St. Patrick's too if it fell on a weekend. I think it was to avoid the sainted sanctuary of the Catholic priest who when he saw me Da would squint at him and say, "Is that you, O'Sullivan? Devil got you up did he to grace our presence?" Well, as you can imagine, me Da did not like the scrutiny by the holy man, and the devil won him over and he'd sleep in.
After church, Mam would be in the kitchen and none of us were allowed in. In other households the same was going on, but not all. As I say it was a day you went to church, you were expected to be mindful it was a holy day and treat it as such. Food and drink were not a part of it, but somehow it always seemed so in me house. Maybe it was residual memory from the famine when there was not much to eat or drink, I don't know really, but Mam be a very fine Irish cook, and to be honest I think it be because she loves to concoct delicious meals that she would go to the trouble.
Like the shamrock shakes for the boyos. She makes them so like McDonald's that the kiddos accuse her of getting shakes from there and pouring them in glasses at home. Now they watch her eagerly with tongues hanging out as she makes them. She has even made up a boozy version for the big kids and I will say we have THAT instead of beer.
O'Hare's favourite part of St. Pat's Day dinner, me Mam's shamrock shake
She even has special glasses so we know the difference of which shake be the one with the liquor.
I made the soda bread while she made the soup and there be no finer potato soup inside or outside Ireland than hers. It be smooth, silky and so wonderful I could have it every day if she'd make it.
Me Mam's potato soup with a grown-up Shamrock shake
While I made the bubble and squeak she made the bangers and mash. I know a lot of potatoes are being had, but we be Irish! All prep went well except for one thing. Me Mam be not one for hard liquor, no she isn't. And in so doing the dessert things got out of hand and it be all me fault. I will admit it was me who spoiled dessert not me Mam. The cake calls for a lot of Jameson, and it be a traditional Irish bundt cake it be, with raisins, currents, and a touch of lemon but I can't say a touch of Jameson, though now we think it should be the other way round.
"Sumtings wrong wit dis here recipe." She said to me. "Seems too much Jameson and I tink I made dis once befur and we dint like it. Oh da fumes, Gabriel!"
Fumes was right, I could smell the whiskey from the end of the room. I looked over and was wondering about that too because she usually makes a chocolate cake with Baileys, not Jameson because the whiskey be too strong for young ones.
"I tink you be right," I said, "I don't remember whiskey or lemon cake."
"Too late now, I got it in da oven." She said looking at the cake start to rise.
I got shot glasses and poured us a shot thinking it would settle her.
"Coom on now," I said, "take a shot for old times' sake."
She did and not having had a shot of whiskey for many a year, her eyes lit up with the memory of how smooth Jameson be going down.
"Another?" I said bottle at the ready to pour. She nodded and we downed another and then another and another after that. I vaguely remember the cake coming out of the oven and cooling as we stood around the table talking of old times and then I realised we drank the entire bottle while walking down memory lane. Well, she was definitely in her cups for someone not used to so much whiskey. She started to prepare the icing for the drunken cake and there she was the drunken cook. And well, I didn't pay much attention to what she was doing, because I was hunting down another bottle of Jameson. As luck would have it I found another and was on me way back to the counter when she started cursing up an Irish storm.
"Wot? Wot be the matter dare Mam?" I said and as I reached the counter I saw the cake and this drippy mess of green castor sugar drunkenly sliding its way down the sides of the cake. I realised instantly she used the wrong sugar and not the icing sugar. So she quickly scraped as much of the sugar as she could off the cake. This she put into a saucepan.
"Wot arr ye doon'?" I said putting the bottle down.
"I'll jus heat it up like a glaze." Said she and that's what she did. The sugary mess may have dissolved a wee bit but I knew once it dried it would go back to its crystal form and that's exactly what happened!
It was too late to make a decent and edible cake, so without either of us saying a word we put the cake out for dessert. The eldest noticed it though and said, "That doesn't look right." And he was right but me Mam piped up that he had no clue what he was talking about. Uh right ho, Mam!
He pointed at a dried green blob on the top of the cake and asked what it was.
"Oh dat dare, well I wuz makin' shamrocks I wuz. It be a shamrock."
Right. It looked as much like a shamrock as me big toe does. Oi!
So she cut the cake and it sat on the plates and everyone looked at their piece and then at each other and me Mam seeing this, kicked me under the table so I instantly took a bite and made the "umm umm good," noise and then they all took a bite and they chewed very slowly with funny looks on their faces before the middle child Guido, said, "Dis here tastes weird."
"Oh begorrah and saints alive," says me Mam, "none of ya eat dat, it'll but ya ta sleep fur a week!"
And with the swiftness of a bird of prey, she removed all the cake plates AND the cake and to the trash bin it went. She promises never to drink another shot of whiskey and will bake a Bailey's chocolate cake tomorrow, whiskey-free, her not the cake. Oh, the poor dear be upset her culinary reputation has been shot to shite and no one will want her cooking ever again. Yup, too much whiskey in her still. She'll be better tomorrow.
Oh, the agony of it!
P.S. Mam was so unhappy about that cake that later in the day she redeemed herself by baking another . . . well almost redeemed herself. She got a recipe online of all places, not trusting herself, and when she clicked on the recipe on her very small mobile phone, it clicked down one recipe to a different cake. When she got to the part it said to add sea salt she thought that was odd because sea salt be rather powerful to bake with, but she followed the directions and made a salty dog cake! Yes, it was a salty chocolate cake that was supposed to be filled with caramel and topped with whipped cream and nuts! WHAT TO DO? She had already made her own mint buttercream icing so she stuffed the middle of the cake with that and then made a milk chocolate icing and covered the whole concoction in that, hoping no one would notice the salty flavour. I tell ya the woman can't win today! Anyway, you can't hardly taste the salt, so the cake is edible. Poor Mam, she has filled a rather large water glass with Jameson and has disappeared to her room.
Gabe
Copyright © 2020 All rights reserved
2 comments:
chocolate cake looks yummy. please send me recipe for the big kid shamrock shake, pleaseee!
That's a good looking table setting. You might include some recipes next time or is that wishful thinking?
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