So went the cry from youngest daughter as I carved the cod’s roe. Opinions are divided. Lisa in George’s Fish Shop had encouraged me to buy and try. The gentleman beside me suggested (in a deep Dublin accent) “Boil it with a splash of vinegar. Have it with a mug of tea. Gorgeous.” Graham, Lisa’s brother and a more refined individual suggested “Boil it with lemon juice.” Both daughters were with me and refused to allow me buy the cod’s roe.
It’s early, very early on an ice-cold morning. Temperatures are just above freezing. My legs are aching, my throat is rasping and my lungs are burning from the effort as I grind out another few meters. I stand out of the saddle. Press left, press right. The wind cuts across the road and freezes my hands to the bars.
The annual mortification of us Irish takes place on 17th March, St. Patrick’s Day. As a nation, the embarrassment is largely self-inflicted. A number of other nations humour us by shining a green light on their best known landmarks thus promoting both the quaint Irish and their own tourism economy at the same time.
A few posts ago, I mentioned that I would give you the background to my collection of beautiful Castle brand copper saucepans. They are no longer made and now have a scarcity value. Apart from their obvious brass handled beauty, they are excellent saucepans. Recently, the Wife’s uncle Don mentioned that he had a box of Castle brand pots languishing under the stairs. He offered them to me. With what, on reflection, was pretty blunt acceptance, I managed to get my greedy hands on the collection.
Over a year ago, I posted about my home-made burger. On reflection, I have to admit that there was little to make it stand out from the crowd. Time for a big rethink. Time for a reheat and while I’m at it, time for a challenge. There are over 300 million of you out there who believe that you make the best burgers in the world. Yes, Americans, I’m talking about you. You certainly make and eat the most burgers, consuming over 40,000,000,000 of them each year. Yes, forty billion burgers. But the best? I doubt it. Not withstanding the growing horse meat scandal across Europe, that will run for donkey’s years, we have the better ingredients here in Ireland.
I am a big fan of the Coen Brothers. To my mind, they have never (hardly ever) made a poor movie. One of my absolute favourites is The Man Who Wasn’t There. Billy Bob Thornton plays a barber who manages to be ‘not there’ in most of the events in the lives surrounding him. It is a wonderful production, beautifully constructed. I tell you this to set up a very strange happening (or non happening depending on how you look at it.) that took place, or didn’t take place, recently.
As is our habit, we had a family dinner here a couple of Sunday’s ago. A good friend from Australia did not arrive. He did not bring a freezer bag full of smuggled exotic fruit and vegetables with a prized pair of kangaroo fillets secreted in the bottom. That would have been something I would frown upon. He did not use his experience as a chef and all round creative genius to construct a delicious tasting starter for the assemblage. They are not used to that sort of thing and would have been spoiled by it, if it had happened.