Baking Irish

I’m not exactly an adventuresome cook—I prefer to stick with a few dishes that get repeat requests, rather than tempt the cooking gods by trying out new stuff. But inspired by Morag Prunty’s Irish novel, Recipes for a Perfect Marriage, (see September 13 post), I decided to try something I’d never made before: Irish soda bread.

Problem: however tasty-sounding on the page, Prunty’s recipe lacked a certain precision. (When you’re trying something new, and the recipe calls for “enough buttermilk to make a soft dough,” and bake in a “hot oven,” you know you’re in trouble.) So recently, determined to make the real McCoy, I turned to Darina Allen, famed Irish chef and author of “Ballymaloe Cooking School Cookbook.” For one thing, she uses exact measurements and oven temperatures. For another, she’s definitely a purist, since her bread includes only four ingredients: flour, soda, salt, and buttermilk.

As much as I wanted to make the classic version of Irish soda bread, though, I stared at the recipe, dismayed. Darina’s seemed about as basic as, well, hardtack. (You know, the cracker-like rations sailors ate because they had a shelf life of several years. Without preservatives.) So I summoned up my Inner Creative Cook and threw in a few extra ingredients I’d seen in Prunty’s book: raisins, butter, and a spoon of honey. And getting into the spirit of the thing, I didn’t measure any of them.

In keeping with Darina’s classic, purist vision, I patted the dough into a round. Then wielding the sharpest knife I could find, I carved the traditional cross into the loaf, and slid it into the oven.

The result? A bit funny looking; the moistened raisins had incorporated too much moisture into the dough, creating surface pockmarks. So instead of the smooth round I’d seen at our local bakery around St. Patrick’s Day, my loaf looked like it had a terminal case of bread acne. But happily, my husband was unfazed by its less-than-stellar appearance, and cut into it eagerly. And though he has never passed judgment on my cooking, when I coaxed him for a critique, he ventured that it could be a bit sweeter. “But I can always spread some honey on it,” he added loyally. I was further cheered when he finished off the loaf in a few days (instead of sticking it in the back of the fridge and “pretending” he’d forgotten about it). Apparently, it had tasted better than it looked.

So, like any recipe you’re experimenting with, or heck, trying anything new in your life, my advice is, start with classic, go wild with a few extras, and don’t skimp on the sweetness. And when you’re making Irish soda bread, just before you slide your loaf into the oven, don’t forget Darina’s secret: after you’ve scored a cross in the dough, prick in each corner “to let the fairies out!”

Recipes for a Perfect Wedding

I promised more about “Recipes for a Perfect Marriage,” by Morag Prunty…It’s the compelling story of two women, Irish-American Tressa, and her Irish grandma, Bernadine, struggling with their marriages. As much as I liked the book, I had a few issues with the two heroines. Both Tressa and Bernadine had a bit of what I’ll call the Scarlett O’Hara syndrome: not appreciating what’s right in front of you until it’s too late. In Scarlett’s case, that would of course be Rhett Butler. Similarly, Tressa and Bernadine were inclined to screw up their love relationships to the point you wanted to shake them.

Happily, Ms. Prunty created some terrific Irish-American secondary characters for a bit of comic relief. One was Gerry, a handyman with “waist-length gray hair and four teeth.” He reminded me a lot of a guy I met at my stepdaughter’s recent wedding in California: Will Quinn, from County Kildare. Will was the grizzled “frontman” of the Irish trio playing the reception. His most notable characteristics were, like Gerry’s, shaggy gray hair and crumbly teeth. Oh, and a sense of humor.

You’ll know, of course, the reputation of the Irish as rebels, right? Will asked us if we’d heard the one about two Irishmen marooned on an island.” We shook our heads. “Well,” said Will, “the first one asks, ‘Is there a government here?’ The second one says, ‘If there is, I’m against it.’”

In addition to joke telling, Will played the pennywhistle and accordion, and also did all the talking (the other two guys didn’t say a word all afternoon). Clearly, Will had more going for him than his ratty looks would suggest, because he brought three “groupies” with him: his gorgeous Mexican wife, Trini, and two heart-stoppingly beautiful young teenage daughters, Aoif and Bridgit. Competitive step-dancers, Aoif and Bridgit were decked out in full Irish dance regalia, dresses decorated in Celtic knots, sporting ghillies (shoes), not to mention uber-curly wigs—as the desired step-dance look involves hair that doesn’t occur in nature. They not only danced on stage, but provided backup for their dad on “Finnigan’s Wake.”

I’ll never forget the two fresh-faced young girls singing the chorus, “…A bottle of whiskey at his feet, and a bottle of port at his head.” If traditional Irish cheese makes the most memorable sandwiches, traditional Irish music, especially with the likes of Will Quinn and his family, creates an unforgettable wedding.

Ode to Elizabeth Gilbert

I couldn’t write another post without paying homage to author Elizabeth Gilbert, whose fabulous memoir “Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything Across Italy, India, and Indonesia” inspired this blog. At least it inspired my blog title, “Eat, Pray, Angst” et cetera. But regarding all the confessing in my first post, I have another confession to make: I’m not a very angsty person. Even on a bad day, I'm more of a glass-half-full kind of girl. However, I once saw the famed Irish writer Edna O’Brien at a book event, and she made reference to the “vast, ancestral loneliness” of the Irish. Well, I figure there's lots of potential angst to tap into.

How about “Pray?” Well, Ms. Gilbert is far more open about her spirituality than I am. But, since this blog will also include occasional riffs on another passion of mine, growing your own food and eating local, praying might sneak into it. Like earlier this week, when the potato foliage in our garden started to turn yellow-black—a fungus, I think. I couldn’t help thinking of the Irish farmers during the potato blight some 160-odd years ago, and with fungicides not yet available, how many prayers must've been sent to the Almighty. In lieu of spraying my own potatoes, since we’re trying to grow organic, I sent oodles of positive vibes in their direction. We’ll see how well it works.

And finally, “Eat.” Sorry, no rapturous descriptions of Italian food a la Ms. Gilbert—we’re here to focus on Irish stuff—but as a devoted foodie, I'll probably chat a lot about eating. To that end, a great place to start eating Irish in America is with Ireland-made Dubliner cheese. Despite my goal of eating more local food, I can’t help myself: Dubliner makes sandwiches to die for. And you don't have to go to Ireland to get it either--only as far as your nearest Costco.

I found another great “eating Irish” resource in an unexpected place—a novel I just finished: “Recipes for a Perfect Marriage,” by Irish author Morag Prunty. While I’ll talk more about “Recipes” next time, I will say my favorite part was the author weaving authentic Irish recipes into the plot. However, "Recipes" is a novel, not a proper cookbook. The recipes are more, shall we say, approximate. Like the way you cook a dish you've made a dozen or even a hundred times--by feel and memory. I might give the Irish soda bread recipe a try, though—and we’ll see how it goes. Kind of like my potato patch.

The Launch of "Eat, Pray, Angst"

I almost named this blog, “Drink, Pray, Angst…” But, confession time: to me, a pint of Guinness is more an object of curiosity than lust. And I didn’t want to turn off any fellow searchers, who, like me, would much rather have a chocolate bar than anything the least bit alcoholic—unless it’s one of those liqueur-filled chocolate truffles. As for my search across America—well, it’ll be more within a 100-mile radius of Seattle. And mostly virtual, rather than actual. But on to my point…

Here in America, people love Irish stories.

I think so, anyway. But if you want proof, look at what’s hot—well, at least very warm—in American culture these days. Celtic Woman, a quartet of Irish singers, is on a national tour. On Broadway, there’s “The Pirate Queen,” a musical brought to you by the makers of Le Miz and Riverdance, and the more literary offering, “Translations.” In film, the Irish musical “Once,” an indie favorite, recently cracked Entertainment Weekly’s Top Twenty. You’re a reader? How about Irish author Maeve Binchy’s “Whitethorn Woods,” on the New York Times bestseller list this spring? Then there’s the perennially popular folks like U2 and Frank McCourt. I could go on, but you get my drift.

From the earliest Irish immigration, the Irish have brought their culture with them—then proceeded to develop a huge fan base. It’s easy to see how—in “Booking Passage,” poet and author Thomas Lynch, says there are 40 million people of Irish descent in the U.S. alone. But the way Irish people and stories are so much a part of our cultural landscape, I don’t think it’s only Irish-Americans keeping the spirit going. Being a fan of any and all things Irish myself, I’ve set out on a quest to find both the high-profile and the more subtle Irish and Irish-American connections on this side of the pond.

I hope my search captures your imagination too. Feel free to share your own discoveries!