An American in Ireland

What does Irish food look like?

That was the question on everyone’s mind at the 2nd annual (hopefully!) foodie photo workshop hosted by Bord Bia last week in Dublin. After viewing the Google images results from an “Irish food” search, we were appalled at what the rest of the world is seeing of our beloved fare.

Unfortunately the websites coming up tops on the image searches are old and therefore enjoy a high ranking; photos of gray, unappetizing Irish stews and painfully plain-looking roasts take up the first page. But the food bloggers in Ireland know better: Irish food is now about artisan producers and organic meats and beautiful fruit and vegetables. It’s about handcrafted cheeses and luscious cakes and biscuits. This is what the world needs exposure to when it comes to Irish food.

We gathered to get some pointers on how we can make our food photos look even better so that we – as the food bloggers of Ireland – can pull together and get the word out. The always enthusiastic and tireless Donal Skehan went over how to use props, interesting backgrounds and perfect lighting to make our food look as appealing as possible; the wonderfully talented food stylist Sharon Hearne Smith (who worked on one of my favourite cookery shows, Barefoot Contessa) showed us how to position and work with our dishes to bring out the best colours and angles. Food photographer extraordinaire Jocosta Clarke reviewed camera settings and photo setups that will guarantee a professional-looking result.

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“Don’t you regret moving away?”

As I stood in the new Brown Hound Bakery, co-owner Reuven Diaz’s words hung in the air along with the luscious buttery scent of just-baked biscuits, cakes and scones. My senses were overloading at the scene: stacks of perfectly-crisp cookies under sparkling glass domes; steam whistling from the shiny espresso maker working overtime to fill coffee orders; and  piles of crusty breads peeking out of woven baskets.

I didn’t say it out loud, but in that moment I did feel a pang of regret that I had upped sticks and moved to Dublin a few months ago, away from this haven of homemade goodness so sleek and gorgeous it would fit right into Greenwich Village. But Brown Hound Bakery is in unsuspecting Drogheda, next door to Reuven and wife Jeni’s *other* foodie show-stopper, the Eastern Seaboard Bar & Grill. Damn you, lucky residents of the Drog!

Though it opened only four weeks ago, Brown Hound Bakery is already causing a stir in this relatively quiet northeastern town. Rumour has it people line up in the mornings for BH’s fresh-fried pumpkin doughnuts and perfect coffee, a special blend made just for the bakery. So it was only natural to gather a group of Irish Foodies – cameras in tow – to take a look and investigate further, and last Saturday we met up with Reuven and Jeni for a first-hand tour of their new baby.

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When I first moved into Mountaineering Man’s apartment, he was very forthcoming about the unfortunate realities of his neighborhood. He insisted I never go out on my own after dark – even to the corner shop – and be very aware of my surroundings when walking around during the day.

The area, known as The Coombe, does have its dodgy aspects. But lately I’ve really warmed to the neighborhood and its surrounding districts and have even discovered a few gems. About a month ago I started walking to my gym, which exposed me to a little nook in the area full of bustling shops and street vendors I’d never seen up close before. Now, instead of noticing the abandoned buildings and strung-out junkies I see the beautiful cakes in bakery windows and the sweet old Polish ladies who warm the shop stoops sharing gossip over tea.

Walking down Meath Street is always a sensory delight; there are aproned butchers hauling whole carcasses on their shoulders, smells of fresh-baked bread wafting down the street and the sing-song sales calls of the ladies hawking a variety of cheap accessories at tables along the footpaths. Get your Flossies here, now half-price! they call out, referencing the colorful cotton shoes that are a hot item among the local street vendors right now. On the same table there is an odd variety of items including chocolates, candles, toothpaste and greeting cards – all at bargain prices.

The businesses here are all small mom-and-pop type places. There’s the Chinese hair salon, which is always packed with petite, lavender-haired grannies. There’s a Polish food shop that has a million types of pickled cucumbers and dry-cured sausages, and there are a few quirky clothing stores that specialise in cheap, frilly frocks – especially over-the-top sequined numbers. It’s fun to window shop and there’s always lots to see.

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Oh man, this place is soooo J.

This is something my sister would say if we walked into a particular type of place. What does “soooo J” mean? Sooooo Japanese. This comment would be appropriate is if my sister and I walked into a shopping centre that reminded us of one in Tokyo, maybe because of the items it sells or the general vibe of the place. Or if we walked past a sushi restaurant in Los Angeles full of Japanese people, we might say This place must be good, look at all the J’s in there!

Living here in Ireland, I rarely see Japanese people but the odd time I do I tend to make a verbal note of it – probably because it’s so unusual. Of course now Mountaineering Man has picked up on my use of J to refer to Japanese people; as he has a mischievous sense of humour, he’ll abuse the reference. Pretty much any Asian person we see will elicit a Look, there’s some J’s! He’s just being cheeky of course but I will admit I do find it quite funny. Moreover it’s interesting to observe his growing knowledge of Japanese food and culture, which he’s picking up in bits and pieces from me.

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It’s no big secret: I love to cook. And lately I’ve found my passion for cooking again, thanks in part to having someone else to cook for (co-habitating with Mountaineering Man). I’ve been having a great time making our weeknight meals and have been inspired by a variety of factors like our weekly veg/fruit bags delivered by Home Organics and the local butchers and fishmongers in my new neighborhood.

As I whipped up another weeknight dinner the other day, I started lamenting over the fact that my visa here in Ireland only allows me to work as a freelance journalist because I would absolutely love to cook somewhere. Don’t get me wrong; I love journalism and I’ll always be a writer no matter what. While I don’t necessarily want to be a restaurant chef (plus I have no formal training) in an ideal world I could see myself cooking at a small breakfast/lunchy cafe type place, one that specialises in fresh and locally-sourced ingredients.

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My friends Janet, Veronica and Giselle at Bottega Louie – one of our favorite restaurants in LA – sharing a pizza and some starters for dinner.

I’ll always remember the first time I went to a tapas restaurant in Ireland with my new-found Irish friends. It was a little place in Drogheda (which is sadly now out of business) and as soon as I opened the menu and saw favorites like garlic mushrooms, chili prawns and spicy potatoes I knew I was in for a treat.

Or so I thought.

“I’m getting the prawns and the salad,” said one friend. “What are you going to get?”

What do you mean what am I going to get? Tapas is all about sharing, I told her. It’s the Spanish culinary tradition of snacks or little bites served on small plates, and the idea is to get a bunch of dishes to share with friends.

“OK, well you can have a bite of my prawns. So what are you going to order?” she deadpanned.

Through further explanation of the beauty of tapas (That way we can all try a lot of dishes on the menu, I reasoned), my friends seemed to grasp the concept and we each chose two dishes on the menu to order. But when the plates were set on the table, each friend quickly grabbed her two orders and tucked right in and offered me a bite of her food before promptly finishing off the rest.

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