It’s been a while since I’ve done a round-up of things I find funny and/or odd in Ireland, and believe me the list expands on an almost-daily basis. Just because I’ve been here for a while now doesn’t mean I understand the bizarrities (<– my own creation) of the Emerald Isle any better than I did when I was fresh off the plane back in March 2010. Here are a few recent discoveries:

Confusing names: I remember the first time someone offered me a flapjack here in Ireland; what I got was not what I would call a flapjack. What we Americans call a flapjack is basically a pancake – an American pancake, mind you, not the thin, crepe-like “pancakes” of Ireland. What people here call a flapjack is basically a soft granola bar to me – a bar made up of oats, with maybe some nuts and/or dried fruit. On a similar note, I recently made some cinnamon rolls for a bake-off, and no one seemed to know what they were. People were calling them everything from morning buns to cakey thing, which is no surprise considering I’ve never seen a cinnamon roll at a bakery in Ireland.

Speaking of pancakes: I think I’ve written here before about how most of my friends – church-going or not – give up something for Lent. Whether it’s chocolate (a hugely popular sacrifice), bread or alcohol, it seems like everyone is giving up something for these 40 days. So the day before everyone gives up their [fill in the blank], they have what people here call “Pancake Tuesday.” On the evening before Lent begins, people whip up pancakes loaded with all kinds of toppings: chocolate drops, whipped cream, Golden Syrup, marshmallows – you name it, it’s on there. The tradition stems from Shrove Tuesday, which dates back to the early Middle Ages. Back then the church forbade its members from eating meat, eggs and dairy products during Lent, so mammies used up whatever eggs, milk and butter they had left to make pancakes. I doubt they were topped with M&Ms, but as they say you can’t stop progress!

Death on the Radio: As the Irish are obsessed with obituaries (seriously, the fascination is odd), it’s no surprise that the weekly announcement of death notices broadcast on radio stations around the country is popular listening to many in rural Ireland. So popular are they that some radio stations read them off 3-5 days per week. For some families, gathering ‘round the radio with a cup of tea to hear a loved one, neighbour or acquaintance’s name being read from the death list is part of the normal weekend routine. “Ah yes, James – there he is!” a mother of a friend of mine would say, after hearing the name of an old school mate who’d recently passed. It’s almost as if the death is not real until it’s confirmed on the radio here in Ireland.

Insults: I’m always impressed at how the Irish can turn any ordinary word into an insult just by using it in place of a standard slur. Perfect example: Cabbage. “What a stupid cabbage!” one might say. Another seemingly harmless word frequently used on the offensive: wagon. “She’s some wagon, isn’t she?!” One of my favourites uses a word that I grew up with, except I always identified it with furry, cute puppets. “That muppet wouldn’t shut his mouth! Did you ever hear such nonsense?”

Peanut Butter Rice Krispie Bars

Whenever I see Rice Krispie Bars here in Ireland, they’re made with melted chocolate and little else. Basically you melt chocolate, stir in the cereal, spread it out in a pan and let cool. But the bars I grew up always, ALWAYS used melted marshmallows, a bit of butter and the cereal bits. There’s just something so satisfying about that chewy, crunchy combination of Rice Krispies and melted marshmallows that can’t be beat. I recently made a peanut butter version, which went over very well with my Irish friends.

2 tablespoons butter

4 cups mini marshmallows (or 3 cups regular-sized marshmallows)

½ cup smooth peanut butter

6 cups Rice Krispie cereal

1 bar of dark chocolate, about 8 ounces

½ cup chopped peanuts

In a large soup pot, melt the butter over medium heat. As soon as the butter is melted, throw in the marshmallows, stirring constantly, and let melt completely (about 5 minutes). Then add in the peanut butter, stirring until it’s all incorporated with the melted marshmallows. Turn the heat to low, then stir in the cereal. When it’s all mixed together, press into a buttered 9 x 13 baking tin (I wet my hands with a bit of water to prevent sticking) and let cool for an hour.

To decorate: Break up the dark chocolate bar and put into a microwave-proof bowl. The melting time really depends on your microwave’s strength, so I recommend trying 30 seconds at a time, stirring every time you check, until it’s completely melted. Be careful not to overcook it, otherwise the chocolate will become gloppy and separate.

Using a spoon, drizzle the chocolate over the Rice Krispies and then top with the chopped peanuts. Let cool for another hour and then cut into squares.

Sometimes I feel like I just can’t get a handle on my professional stuff – for lack of a better word. As a freelance writer working from home, there seems to be two kinds of weeks: One where I’m super motivated and I’m pitching numerous publications while working on big copywriting projects for US-based clients and others when I feel absolutely wracked with failure from not having enough or worse, any work. 

Keeping myself motivated, especially during those weeks when I don’t get a single response from the half-dozen pitches I’ve sent, can be entirely overwhelming some days. It’s a real rollercoaster ride, the freelance lifestyle. When you sell a story and get a few bits of copywriting work, you feel productive and successful. The rest of the time you feel like you’re not doing enough and wonder if you’ll ever get consistent work. On those real dark days you think of things like retirement funds, health insurance and financial security – or the lack thereof!

Of course after doing this for many years I understand that there’s no other choice than to keep going (the other option of going back to a corporate job is NOT an option for me!) and I’m simply venting here. In the end I always get up and dust myself off and prepare for another day, another pitch, and possibly another rejection – but I keep going. At times I just wish I had more control over the situation.

The place where I feel most in control is the kitchen, believe it or not. When I’m cooking, I feel relaxed, happy and flexible. Even when I have a kitchen disaster (and believe me it still happens!) I feel OK and confident that I can move past it and save the dish.

I cook dinner for Mountaineering Man and myself 5 days a week, and I often look at Foodgawker or Tastespotting for ideas. I can look at a photo of a dish and immediately understand the basics on how it works; after merely perusing the recipe, I can easily formulate a plan in my mind on how I’ll approach the dish. I’ll scan the spice press and refrigerator and make any substitutions I need in my head. It’s almost like a blueprint forms in my mind and I can see how the ingredients will work together and estimate how long everything will need to cook and how Dish A and Dish B will come together at the same time so that everything is ready at once. I guess you could say that when it comes to cooking, the wheels in my head all turn the right way.

If only I could harness my cooking confidence and apply it to my professional life!? While it’s a struggle, it’s something I work on daily. It seems to be paying off – watch this space for an exciting work-related announcement very soon!

Cauliflower Pizza Crust (makes 2 large pizza crusts)

I recently read about the miracle that is a pizza crust made solely from cauliflower and decided to try it for myself. It’s perfect for those doing low-carb or gluten/wheat-free diets. Though I’d never made it before and made a couple of changes to the original recipe, it came out great. It’s not like regular pizza crust, it’s more like a fluffy, soft crust that needs a fork to eat. However, it tasted great and even MM – a carb lover – gave it the thumbs-up. Use whatever pizza toppings you like; I had some leftover BBQ sauce and pork, which I used for one (along with thinly-sliced potato and red onions) and then made a simple veggie pizza for the other one.

1 medium-sized head of cauliflower

1 cup shredded mozzarella

2 beaten eggs

1 teaspoon crushed garlic

2 teaspoons dried basil

1 teaspoon dried oregano

1 teaspoon sea salt

Cut the raw cauliflower florets off the head and place into a food processor. Pulse until the cauliflower is in tiny little pieces – almost like rice – but don’t over mix or else it’ll turn into a puree. Place the cauliflower bits into a large Tupperware and cover with a cloth; microwave for 8 minutes on medium-high setting, stirring at the halfway mark. Let cool for 10 minutes.

In a large bowl, combine the cauliflower, mozzarella, egg, garlic, basil, oregano and sea salt. It should be a thick consistency and a little sticky. Take half the mixture and press down on an oiled baking sheet (or one lined with a silicon baking sheet), forming the shape of a rectangle or circle or whatever you like. The crust should be thin, about 1/4 of an inch. Do the same with the remaining mixture.

Bake at 200 C degrees for 15 minutes, then turn the oven down to 170 C and bake for an additional 15 minutes or until the edges are starting to brown nicely. Add toppings and bake for another 15-20 minutes. Enjoy!

There’s been a lot of Los Angeles talk lately, mainly between myself and Mountaineering Man. We’re planning a trip for the autumn to visit my family and friends (for him it’ll be the big introduction!) and though it’s only mid-summer I’m guessing October will be here before we know it. Needless to say, the excitement is building.

Last week we had a little taste of LA here in Ireland, thanks to one of Southern California’s most revered bands: Weezer. Back in the ‘90s when I was a music journalist, I was lucky enough to interview the band a few times for various publications. And by sheer coincidence, my brother-in-law (a musician himself) is good friends with Weezer’s bassist, Scott Shriner and I know his wife (writer/author Jillian Lauren). Between all the connections, I’ve gotten to know the guys a little bit over the years.

The band arrived in town the night before their Friday Oxegen set, and Scott had one request: really good fish ‘n chips. He mentioned that on a prior trip to Dublin he’d had a big, greasy version at a takeaway, but that it left him with lasting stomach pains (oh the day-after regret – we’ve all been there!). So we took Scott and guitarist Brian Bell to our favorite place for great, locally-sourced gastro pub eats – L Mulligan Grocer. The guys all ordered the same thing: a starter of L Mulligan’s famous Scotch egg, plus the fish ‘n chips (which is MM’s standard order every time we go there!). I went with their vegetarian Scotch egg and the moules frites, both excellent. They absolutely loved it, declaring it the best meal they’d had in the UK/Ireland in years. It really warmed my heart that they loved L Mulligans – one of our frequent haunts – as much as we do. Scott even Tweeted a picture of his meal, perhaps he’s a food blogger in the making??

The next day we hit Oxegen, and thanks to Scott’s kindness and generosity we avoided the muddy craziness of the festival crowd and got to watch Weezer from the side of the stage. It was an incredible performance featuring some of the band’s classic hits (“Say It Ain’t So,” “Buddy Holly”), newer favourites (“Hash Pipe,” “Beverly Hills”) and even a couple of surprises like a cover of Radiohead’s “Paranoid Android.” At one point in the show I had a major flashback; it was nearly 15 years ago that I first met the band – things were so different then, for all of us. And now, seeing them in Ireland with MM and this whole new life…it was strange, but in the best possible way.

Funnily enough, Scott is now officially the first LA friend to have met MM – a pretty big deal considering not even my family has laid eyes on him. At least Mountaineering Man’s first review was a good one; the next day Weezer played a festival in England, where my brother-in-law’s band also played, and according to my bro Scott gave MM the thumbs-up – calling him a “stand-up guy.” Though MM just smiled when I told him the news, I think it’s taken the edge off his nerves a bit. Yesterday he said he’s looking forward to the LA trip now more than ever.

Toasted Gnocchi Summer Salad

This dish reminds me of LA summer dinner parties because I first had a version of it at one my sister hosted. Instead of boiling gnocchi, you pan fry it in a bit of olive oil and butter. The result is a really crispy, golden-brown gnocchi with a slightly-chewy, most interior. I toss it with vegetables and a bit of chorizo for extra flavour. It’s perfect served at room temperature so you can make it a little ahead of time. I made this for MM after our Oxegen weekend and he couldn’t get enough!

6 tablespoons of olive oil

2 teaspoons of butter

1/2 foot long cooked chorizo, cut into small cubes

1 yellow bell pepper, cut into medium dice

1 green bell pepper, cut into medium dice

1 red onion, cut into medium dice

10 cherry tomatoes, cut into halves

25-30 gnocchi (I used this recipe from The Daily Spud, which I highly recommend!)

Big handful of fresh basil leaves

Salt and pepper to taste

In a large sauté pan, heat up 2 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add the chorizo and cook for a few minutes. Add in the bell peppers and red onion and cook for about 5 minutes or until they start to soften (but you don’t want them too soft – it’s nice to keep them slightly firm). Remove from heat and add in the cherry tomatoes, tossing all the ingredients together so that all the vegetables and chorizo are mixed together. Season with salt and pepper, and then place into a bowl and set aside.

In the same pan, add 2 more tablespoons of olive oil and one teaspoon of butter over medium-high heat. Add the gnocchi in one layer – don’t crowd them as you don’t want to steam these, you want to create a nice, golden exterior crust. As the bottoms start to brown, flip them over (I used chopsticks but a spatula or fork will do) and cook until the other side is brown. Remove with a slotted spoon and place on a plate lined with kitchen roll. You’ll probably need to do another batch (hence the additional olive oil and butter!), so proceed as you did with the first one.

Now you’re ready to assemble the salad: In a large bowl, combine the veg/chorizo mix with the toasted gnocchi. Add in the basil leaves – simply rip them with your fingers and add into the salad. Season with salt and pepper and serve.

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.

Around the corner on Thomas Street there are a few places that I’ve fallen in love with. There is a fantastic Mediterranean grocer offering a mind-boggling selection of Indian spices, flatbreads and Asian condiments; it’s difficult for me to walk by without going in and even harder to walk out without buying something. And it’s so cheap! A huge bag of bulgur wheat is a mere 1.75 Euro and a hefty bunch of fresh mint only 70 cents. The place is easy to find as it neighbors Vicar Street, the popular music venue.

MM recently took me to dinner at Just Off Francis, an adorable little bistro also on Thomas Street. The menu is small, changes daily and is all about quality comfort food like burgers and pasta. For a starter, we shared perhaps the best chicken wings I’ve ever had. Instead of being fried, the wings were baked and then tossed in a light sauce of chili, lemon and fresh parsley. The succulent, moist meat fell off the bone and the sauce was nice and tangy without overpowering the chicken. We each had a burger for our mains: MM had one with a jalapeno/tomato salsa and I went for a basic with cheese. Instead of fries, they were served with oven-roasted baby potatoes that had been split in half and cooked until crispy around the edges. Frank, the owner, came over and chatted with us for a good while – a real personal touch that I really appreciated.

Next door is Cafe Noto, a coffee cafe boasting high ceilings over an exposed brick wall – very New York urban chic. MM and I recently went for the first time and shared a delicious chicken Panini and a lovely oat and honey biscuit for lunch with excellent coffee. The atmosphere is inviting with loads of tables and comfortable chairs. It’s the kind of place where you can curl up with the newspaper or laptop and no one bothers you. There’s plenty of good, healthy food choices and lots of sweet treats to go with your tea or coffee.

I think the lesson here is that with a little digging, you can unearth some real diamonds even in the roughest of neighborhoods. Funnily enough we’re looking to move and though I never thought I’d say this I’m actually going to miss The Coombe and all its quirky little nooks and crannies when we go. But with places like the Fay’s Butcher and Just Off Francis, we’ll make it a point to visit often.

Mediterranean Feast

The first time I stopped into the Mediterranean shop on Thomas Street I came out with all the ingredients for a fantastic Med feast. Though it seems like a lot of work, every element of this feast is quick and easy and can be done in advance. Serve with some whole wheat pitta or flat bread for an incredibly satisfying dinner.

Lemon Garlic Chicken Skewers:

1 lb chicken breast, cut into large cubes

1 large white onion, cut into large chunks

The juice of one whole lemon

2 cloves garlic, minced

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Sea salt & pepper

Skewers

Skewer your chicken breast cubes and onion pieces – I usually do every other piece onion/chicken. Set aside. In a large baking dish pour in the lemon juice and add the garlic and olive oil with a few pinches of sea salt and pepper and mix. Place the skewers into the marinade and roll around to coat. Put in the refrigerator for an hour or up to 5 hours.

When ready to cook: Preheat your oven to 170 degrees. Cover the baking dish with tin foil and place into the oven to bake for 15 minutes. Remove the tin foil and place back into the oven for 5 more minutes. Season with salt and pepper and serve.

Spicy Hummus

1 can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons sweet chili sauce

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

Sea salt to taste

In a food processor, whiz together all the ingredients. You can add tahini if you have it but when I made this I didn’t, and it actually turned out fine. Add salt to taste and serve.

Tzatziki

8 ounces natural yogurt

About 1/2 of a large cucumber, sliced into small dice (should be about the size of a 1-cent euro coin!)

Squeeze of lemon juice

Sea salt to taste

In a bowl mix together the yogurt, cucumber and lemon juice. Add salt to taste. Place in the fridge for at least two hours – you want the cucumber flavour to infuse the yogurt. Serve!

Tabbouleh

1.5 cups (or two tea cups for you Irish/UK!) of bulgur wheat

2 1/4 cups (or two and a fourth tea cups!) of boiling water

2 tablespoons plus 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

About a dozen cherry tomatoes, cut in half

1/2 of a large cucumber (use the other half from Tzatziki!), sliced

Juice from 1 small lemon

About 10 mint leaves, minced

Big handful fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Sea salt and pepper to taste

Put the bulgur wheat into a large bowl. Pour the boiling water over the bulgur and add 2 tablespoons of olive oil and a few pinches of sea salt and stir. Cover with cling film or a lid and let sit for an hour.

After an hour the bulgur wheat would have absorbed all the liquid – fluff with a fork. Now add in the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil, tomatoes, cucumber, lemon juice, mint leaves and parsley and mix together. Season with sea salt and pepper. Serve at room temperature or cold.

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.

It’s odd that the idea of sharing plates of food seems a bit lost in Irish culinary culture. At Chinese and Indian restaurants in Ireland, patrons order their own dish – which is  completely at odds with how Americans eat both cuisines. At a sit-down Chinese or Indian restaurant in the U.S., it’s typical to order a few dishes and a big bowl of steamed rice and share everything; a little chow mein, a little kung-pow chicken and an egg roll with some rice for each person. Here, it’s common for Susan to order a chow mein as her main while Earnan orders the kung-pow chicken for himself. It’s absolutely weird for me to eat an entire plate of what I consider a community-style dish like chow mein, but here it’s perceived as strange to do otherwise.

Remember the famous line from a well-known Friends episode, Joey doesn’t share food!? Sometimes the reaction I get from some Irish friends about dividing up a few plates is hilariously similar. I’m not sure why that is, but Mountaineering Man likes to joke that it has to do with the Great Famine.

“It wasn’t that long ago that people were punching each other over one potato,” he says, with a devilish smirk. “Maybe that’s why we don’t like to share food!”

While sometimes I just want what I want all to myself, most of the time I’d rather share a few plates so that I can try more than one dish. Back in Los Angeles my sister and I would frequently plant ourselves at the bar in a restaurant, order 3-4 appetizers and some wine and nibble all night. It’s a relaxed way to try a few different dishes and just the way I prefer to eat!

Spanish Tortilla

This popular Spanish dish is featured on several tapas menus in LA and showcases Ireland’s most beloved veg, the potato! While my recipe is for a full-sized tortilla, you can make them smaller for a proper tapas dish by cutting the recipe down. It’s really a dish for leftovers; the only required ingredients are potatoes, eggs and onions – the rest is up to you. I’ve had tortilla with tomatoes, cured meats and a variety of veg.

4-7 teaspoons of olive oil (will depend on the size of your pan)

4 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced thinly

1 medium onion, sliced thinly

1/2 green bell pepper, sliced thinly

10 thin slices of chorizo

3 eggs, beaten

Handful of grated cheese – whatever type you like!

Salt and pepper to taste

In a large, heavy-bottomed sauté pan, heat up one teaspoon of olive oil over medium heat. Working in batches, put in one layer of onion, potato and bell pepper and cook for about 5-7 minutes or until they are all tender. Place onto a plate and repeat step one (1 teaspoon of oil, potato, onion, bell pepper) until all the potato and veg are cooked. Set aside.

Heat up another teaspoon of olive oil in the same pan over medium heat. Now place one layer of potato, bell pepper and onion in the pan, followed by a layer of chorizo slices. Repeat until all the potato, veg and chorizo are in the pan. Pour the eggs over the whole lot and cook. Do not mess with it – let the egg cook on the bottom, which should take about 5 minutes or so. There shouldn’t be too much runny egg on the top at this stage, though the top will not be cooked yet.

Now here’s the hard part about making Spanish Tortilla: You need to flip it over! But here’s the easy way. Get a plate as large as your pan. Gently use a spatula to loosen the edges of the egg/potato and slide the whole thing onto the plate – cooked side down so it shouldn’t be too difficult. Now place the pan over the plate and quickly and confidently flip it back into the pan so that the uncooked side is now down in the pan; if you are unsure of how to do it, check out this step-by-step process. Cook for an additional 3-4 minutes and then sprinkle the cheese on top of the tortilla and cook until it melts – about 2 minutes. Slice and serve!

I kid, I kid! Even with all the political turmoil and recession depression, I love it here. But I still find myself mired in figuring out the little things. While in some ways I’m quite settled, there are new discoveries almost every day. I’m still trying to distinguish between regional accents that everyone else seems to recognize and I’m struggling to wrap my brain around the culture of Irish Travellers. Whether it’s a type of bread I’ve never heard of (Mountaineering Man recently introduced me to barmbrack – yum!) or political parties (it’s Gaelic but I find it amusing that the main party has the word fail (Fáil) in its name, so appropriate!) it’s trying to understand all the details of daily Irish life that consumes my time.

Driving in LA is just a whole different experience than driving in Ireland!

Recently I was driving with my friend Grainne and as we drove down a wide road the motorist driving the opposite direction blinked his headlights at me. I was baffled: He wasn’t behind me, so he couldn’t be signaling for me to speed up and it was daylight so he couldn’t have been telling me to turn on my headlights. In Los Angeles, urban legend has it that if you blink your headlights at a gang member’s car, that’s reason enough for them to shoot you so I generally never blink my headlights at anyone. I turned to Grainne and asked her what it meant and without missing a beat she said, “Oh there’s probably garda down the road checking people’s speed and that guy was warning you to slow down.” I’m wondering how on earth she got all that from blinking headlights, but I slowed down and sure enough, just down the road there was a police officer pointing his radar at passing motorists. I was absolutely taken aback by this kind gesture from a complete stranger who undoubtedly saved me from a traffic ticket and utterly puzzled that this vague transmission via headlights is common knowledge to the Irish.

MM reading the paper, a daily ritual.

I still embarrass myself on a regular basis and will probably continue to do so as this seems to be a skill I’ve enhanced while living in Ireland. A few months ago I woke up early on a Saturday morning, changed into my trainers and workout clothes and drove to the gym. It was about 7:30 a.m. so I knew the gym would be empty; when I arrived there were only two cars in the parking lot. I walked in and stood at the check-in counter, waiting for one of the gym staff. No one appeared so I went into the locker room, put my stuff in the locker and went upstairs to the cardio room only to find it dark without a soul in sight. Puzzled, I went back downstairs and ran into a very stunned-looking woman who nearly bashed me over the head with her broom. She was the cleaning lady and told me the gym did not open until 10 a.m. on Saturdays…that’s practically the middle of the day! In Los Angeles, there would be an absolute uproar if the gym didn’t open by 5:30 a.m., even on weekends. Here people aren’t as obsessed with working out, which is actually quite refreshing to be honest.

There are many little things that still mystify me, like the (mis)spelling of certain words. I still do a double-take every time I see the word tyre, which is the way Irish spell tire. I recently saw a pull-quote in the Irish Times and smugly told MM that there was a HUGE spelling mistake: the word skeptical was spelled sceptical. “That’s how it’s spelled, hon,” he said, chuckling. Turns out he’s right, but to me it looks so wrong and it drives me – an American writer educated in journalism at a U.S. university – absolutely crazy! Another bizarre discovery: the Irish don’t seem to like Jacuzzis or hot tubs, which is odd because it is so cold here. I’ve been to two spas and have researched numerous others only to find that NONE have hot tubs. During a visit to a luxe hotel spa in Co. Mayo, I was thrilled to see what the hotel called a “hydro pool,” which looked like an oversized Jacuzzi. One toe dip in the water let me know it was not the case; the water was not quite cold but it was very cool and nowhere close to warm…argh! When I asked MM how this could be, he said something about hot tubs being “full of germs.” Full of germs or not, I spend many a cold Irish night dreaming of a long soak in Jacuzzi.

Spicy Sweet Potato and Red Pepper Soup

For my birthday, MM gave me a kitchen gadget to love: the Cuisinart Soup Maker. Think of it as a blender/food processor with a heating element. I can chop my veg, throw in a bit of olive oil and sauté directly in the container of the Soup Maker, add my cold stock and seasonings and boil/simmer and blend it all up into a smooth soup. Crazier still is that it also makes pastry dough, pastes, salsas, etc. However I wrote the recipe so this soup will be easy to make even without this appliance. This spicy and sweet soup will warm you all the way down to your toes, and comes in at a close second behind the hot tub soak.

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 medium yellow onion, chopped roughly

1 garlic clove, chopped roughly

2 medium red bell peppers, seeded and chopped

1 red chili, seeded and chopped

2 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed

800 ml of chicken or vegetable stock

Salt and pepper to taste

Fresh coriander for garnish

In a large soup pot, heat up the olive oil over medium heat. Throw in the onion, garlic, bell peppers and chili and sauté for about 5 minutes or until the onions are a bit tender. Toss in the sweet potatoes and stir for 2 minutes, then pour the stock over the veg and bring the whole thing to a boil over high heat. After it comes to a boil, turn the heat down and simmer for 30 minutes or until the vegetables are soft. Using a hand blender or a regular blender (if you use the latter, make sure to do it in batches being very careful as mixture will be HOT) and blend until smooth. Season with salt and pepper to taste and garnish with fresh coriander leaves. If you’d like, add in a dollop of natural yogurt to add creaminess. Enjoy!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Though the Irish tend to wax ad nauseum about the weather, they don’t let it get them down. They don’t avoid going outside when it’s freezing cold or when it’s raining because if they did, they’d never leave the house. Irish people just put on a bigger coat, whip out the umbrella and get on with their lives.

Strangely enough, I’ve noticed as the temperature goes down people seem to get more chipper around here. In Dublin last weekend it was probably about 4 degrees Celsius (that’s 39 degrees Fahrenheit for all my American friends) and I witnessed the most cheerful exchange between a visibly shivering elderly man and a store clerk. The clerk asked, “How’s it going?” and while the old man could’ve gotten away with a smarmy remark he answered, “Ah, not a bother at all! Not a bother!” complete with a huge grin and a boisterous cackle. I think I was in the middle of whining about how cold I was when I caught that little burst of positivity. Then I passed the guy whose sole job is to stand in the driveway of the car park and wave cars in and out. For hours, he stands out there in the freezing cold, sporting his high-vis jacket and a genuine smile.

Admittedly, adjusting to my first autumn and pending winter in Ireland hasn’t been easy. In balmy Los Angeles, November still sees temperatures in the 90s (that’s the 30s for my European friends). Christmas is typically anywhere between 60-65 degrees Fahrenheit (16 C) and no matter how many films portray the “surprise” LA holiday snowfall it’s never happened in my lifetime. In fact, the last recorded snowfall in LA was on January 22, 1962 and it was so light it evaporated before touching the ground. Last year it rained a little, which we thought was nice as it made Christmas feel more “festive.” Here, I feel cold to the bone and all I want to do is curl up in a Snuggie (despite its universally-dorky rep), read Robert Frost poems, drink hot tea, and feel sorry for myself.

But as I witness more random displays of positivity in Ireland, my attitude is shifting. Today as I schlepped down the main street in town, I let out a big, depressing yawn. “Get home and take yourself a nice nap, pet!” called out a male passerby, all smiles. “You deserve it!” It actually made me laugh out loud and immediately jolted me out of my gloomy mood. While a comment like this would be highly unusual coming from an Angelino (with the exception of drunk vagrants and liquored-up douchebag hipster types, of course), it’s really not that uncommon around here. Strangers often say “hello” to me as I walk down the street, and it’s perfectly normal for someone behind me in the grocery line to strike up a friendly conversation. Even when there’s plenty to complain about, like the feckin’ cold weather!

Winter Warmer Spaghetti Bolognese Sauce

Nothing comforts me in cold weather more than a huge bowl of pasta, especially when it’s spaghetti Bolognese. My mother used to make hers with the tiniest, most perfectly-cubed vegetables like carrots and onions – I remember they looked like little jewels in the pot as she sautéed them. Though most “spag bol” includes beef, I made mine with minced dark-meat chicken. It’s my submission for the Irish Foodies monthly cook-along, as this month’s theme is Winter Warmers!

3 tablespoons plus 2 tablespoons of olive oil

1 large carrot, peeled

1 medium white onion

½ red bell pepper

½ green bell pepper

2 cloves of garlic

1 lb. dark-meat chicken (legs/thighs) mince – ask your butcher!

2 cans (142 grams each) tomato paste (called “puree” in Ireland)

1 ¼ cup of dry red wine

Water

4 twigs of fresh thyme

2 bay leaves

1 teaspoon red chili flakes

1 beef bouillon cube

½ cup finely grated Parmesan cheese

5 fresh basil leaves

Salt and pepper to taste

In a food processor, chop the carrot, onion, bell peppers and garlic together until they are a very fine dice (you can also do this by hand). In a large pot, heat up 3 tablespoons of olive oil over medium-high heat and then add the vegetables. Cook until almost “melted” or very translucent and soft, about 15-20 minutes. Spoon the cooked vegetables onto a plate and then add the other 2 tablespoons into the same pot and add the chicken mince. Brown the chicken, stirring regularly, for about 15 minutes. Add the vegetables back into the pot with the chicken and stir together, seasoning generously with salt and pepper. Cook for an additional 15 minutes – it’s all about building flavor here!

Add in the two cans of tomato paste and mix together with the veg/chicken and cook for 4-5 minutes. Add in the red wine and stir until well incorporated. Bring to a simmer then lower the heat to medium-low and let the wine reduce by ½ (10 minutes or so). Now add in about 2 cups of water, or until the water goes to about 1 inch above the meat/veg, and add in the leaves from the thyme stems and the bay leaves, chili flakes and beef bouillon cube. Bring to a boil and then reduce the heat to low and let simmer for about 1.5 hours or until the sauce becomes thick. Remove from heat and stir in the grated Parmesan cheese and tear the basil leaves and throw them in as well. Serve with your favorite type of pasta and enjoy!

Me (left) and my sister in Kamakura, Japan

Walking along the beach here a few months back, I spied hundreds of washed-up jellyfish on the shore and was immediately reminded of my childhood home of Japan. My sister and I spent the first five years of our lives in a beach town called Kamakura, and we used to spend hours scooping up jellyfish with our little plastic buckets. God knows why but we would cut them up with scissors (I know, horrible!) because we were fascinated by their soft texture. I think we just saw them as jelly, not live creatures of the sea. It was innocent, really, just like our life there.

Much like small-town Ireland, Kamakura was a place where you knew your neighbors and where it was perfectly safe to let your kids run around outside without having to check on them every two seconds. So safe was it that my sister and I used to take the train to preschool every day. Though we were all of four years old, we along with a couple of neighborhood school mates would walk down a little stone pathway to the train station. We wore school uniforms, including a hat that bore a colored button indicating which train we were to take. I remember our button was yellow. The station agent would look at the top of our hats, see the button color and put us on the corresponding train. Our teachers awaited us at the other end, and then walked us to our school. If we got lost on the way, various neighbors would put us back on the right path. They all knew our school, they all knew us and we could count on them to help us find our way.

This air of innocence didn’t completely disappear after we moved to Los Angeles, but it certainly lessened as we became aware of the sheer vastness of the city. Suddenly we didn’t know our neighbors anymore, and though we’d see them getting into their cars almost daily, there was never more than an obligatory wave from any of them. In Kamakura, my mom and dad had friends and socialized with our playmates’ parents; in Los Angeles, it was much harder to get to know people.

I recall an incident from when I was about 9 years old, when the parents of my classmate Cecilia invited us over for a barbeque at their house. We’d seen them at a school play and they came over, mentioned they’d love to have us at their house and said to come by “around 2 p.m. on Saturday.” That weekend my sister, parents and I got ready and walked several blocks to their house, homemade potato salad and a six-pack of soda in tow. Cecilia’s mom answered the door and looked utterly puzzled to see us there. She awkwardly explained that they didn’t really mean they were having a barbeque that day; it was just something they said to be nice. Over the years we’d learn that this type of bogus “Let’s do lunch sometime” invitation was very popular in Los Angeles.

Perhaps because of memories like these, I truly appreciate the close-knit communities of small-town Ireland. People here are genuinely friendly and faithfully watch out for one another. Young kids can walk to a playmate’s house and a good number of familiar eyes will be watching the little one along the way. There are few formal invitations to get together because it’s entirely acceptable to drop into someone’s house, and you can be sure they’ll always put the kettle on and bring out plate of biscuits for you. And I can’t imagine anyone using the phrase, let’s do lunch. Around here, an expression like that will get you little more than a roll of the eyes and maybe even a “Feck off!”

For a lot of small towns here in Ireland, time – at least as it pertains to innocence and virtue – has stood relatively still. Qualities like chivalry and respect for the elderly are still valued. Neighbors talk to each other. Pride for one’s community is still important. For this small-town girl turned big city dweller, it’s nice to be back in a place where this stuff still matters.

Coffee Jelly with Cream

In Japan, coffee is an incredibly popular flavor for desserts (even for kids!). My mom often made us coffee jelly (or jello) and served it with a sprinkling of sugar and cream; it was a favorite of me and my sister. You can top it with vanilla ice cream, whipped cream or just a drizzle of thick cream. Of course this jelly is also perfectly safe to play with, unlike jellyfish (what were we thinking?).

1 cup of cold water

3 ½ packets of gelatin powder

2.5 cups of boiling hot brewed coffee

2 tablespoons sugar

Whipped cream and granulated for topping

Pour the cup of cold water into a large bowl, and then add the packets of gelatin. Let sit for one minute. Add the hot coffee and stir for about 5 minutes or until all the gelatin is dissolved. Add in the sugar and stir until that has dissolved. Pour into serving glasses or into a shallow plastic container (whichever you prefer) to set in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours. Top with whipped cream and a sprinkle of sugar.

I am always impressed at how close my Irish friends keep their childhood memories; whether we’re drinking at the pub or taking a spin around town, the entertainment is often tales from their childhood, always told with smiling eyes and a kind of pure giddiness that’s usually limited to children themselves.

Most of my friends here grew up in the country, so theirs was a childhood of wild adventures created on even wilder imaginations. They didn’t have the constant distraction of video games or Barbie’s new summer line. Many shared their bedrooms, toys and clothes with at least a few siblings. Their main job, besides helping with a handful of chores around the house, was to stay out of the way, because the adults had plenty to keep themselves occupied what with keeping food on the table for a half-dozen kids and a roof over those little buggers’ heads. There was plenty of mischief; Sinead recalls the time her cousin Barry playfully tied her and their other cousin Ciara to a fence and then got a gang of other cousins to come over and make fun as the two girls tried in vain to free themselves. That one kept the whole lot entertained for at least a few hours.

My childhood in Los Angeles was very different. It was just my sister and me, as our cousins all lived several states away. And being constantly exposed to a barrage of flashy distractions like MTV, motorized kids’ cars and enormous backyard swimming pools at friends’ houses (our parents wouldn’t allow such things at home) didn’t exactly inspire us to be creative with our free time. Don’t get me wrong; my parents tried in vain to emphasize the joys of simple, childhood activities and though we’d show an initial interest, our friends’ shiny toys and the desire for such things would win out every time. I remember one summer my father gave me a book on string art, and I did make a couple of pieces: one was a big, brown mushroom and the other was a sign for our window that said, “The Kleinedlers.” I sanded and stained the pieces of wood, hammered in the nails and carefully strung the yarn myself (though half-way through working on the second piece I was cursing my long last name). It was satisfying, I learned something new and I had a tangible result from my efforts, but I’m pretty sure I went right back to pining away for cable television shortly after I completed the projects.

But one of the activities I thoroughly enjoyed as a child was cooking, and though my parents included it in our list of chores I never saw it as work. Whether it was rinsing frozen peas for my dad’s famous tuna casserole or whipping egg whites with our little hand-held mixer, I loved every minute of the process and many of my happy childhood memories revolve around the kitchen. Whenever my mother made gyoza, a type of pan-fried, Japanese potsticker, it was my duty to sit and help her fill and fold the little dumplings. I’d take one of the round wonton skins in my hand, place about a teaspoon of pork/shrimp filling in the middle, dip my finger in a bowl of water and drag it across one side of the wonton skin and then gently fold and seal the gyoza. I would then take two fingers and create little scallops around the top. After we finished my mother would cover the whole platter of freshly-made gyoza with a damp cloth to keep them from drying out. When she wasn’t looking, I’d peel back the cloth and marvel at all at those perfect little gyozas with their perfect little creases. Maybe it was the anticipation of eating the gyoza or the pride I felt for helping create them, but I’d sneak a peek under the cloth a half-dozen times before my mom took them to the stove to cook.

Pork and Shrimp Gyoza
(Makes about 55 gyoza)1/2 pound raw minced pork

3/4 pound raw prawns, peeled and deveined
1 large tablespoon grated ginger
1 large tablespoon minced garlic
1 cup finely diced cabbage
3 spring onions, sliced thin, white and green parts
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon dark toasted sesame oil
2 teaspoons corn starch or potato starch
2 packages of round wonton skins, also called dumpling pastry (you can get this frozen in most Asian markets). Each package usually has 40 skins.
Vegetable oil
Hot water
Soy sauce for dipping/serving

First, chop the prawns into very tiny pieces – almost like a mince. Sometimes it’s easier to use two knives for this. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine the pork, prawns, ginger, garlic, cabbage and spring onions and mix well using a wooden spoon or clean hands. Then add in the soy sauce, sesame oil and corn starch and mix thoroughly.

To assemble, you will need a small bowl of water, a tray for the gyoza and a damp cloth to cover them with. Take one wonton skin, put about one teaspoon of the filling in the center, and then dip your finger into the water and drag it across the inner edge of one side of the wonton skin. Fold it together into a half-moon shape and make sure it is sealed (the water will act as the glue). Using two fingers create little scallops or creases and pinch. Or you can just leave the edge flat if you prefer.

To cook you will have to do this in batches, so preheat your oven to 100C as you’ll need to keep these warm after cooking: Heat up about one tablespoon of vegetable oil in a large, shallow sauté pan that has a lid. Heat the oil up on medium-high heat until it is very hot but not smoking. Carefully lay one layer of gyoza into the oil – leaving at about a ½ inch between each one. Do not move them around – this process will give one side of the gyoza a nice, golden crust. Cook for about 1-2 minutes, checking to see if a crust as formed. As soon as you see a deep, golden crust on the underside, take about ¼ cup of hot water, put it into the pan with the gyoza and immediately put the lid on the pan – be careful, the water will simmer wildy so keep the lid handy. This steaming process will cook the gyoza completely. Let steam for about 2 minutes. Remove from the pan and place on a baking tray and keep warm in the oven. Do another batch the same way, starting off with the oil (you will need to add oil every time). Serve with little dipping plates of soy sauce. I add a bit of chili oil to my dipping soy sauce but that is up to you! Enjoy!

*Photo credit of little girl: Image: Tina Phillips / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

A while back, I wrote a blog post about What I’ve Learned since moving here to Ireland. Now, on the six-month anniversary of my move here, I’d like to present what I love about Ireland and about living here.

*High visibility jackets: I know you think I’m crazy right about now. OK, I don’t really love the high visibility jacket in and of itself, but I love what it represents. About a month into my relocation, my friend and I took a walk down a country road sometime in the early evening. It was still quite bright outside, but as we walked we were stopped by four separate people asking us why we were not wearing high visibility jackets. These people literally pulled their cars over, rolled down their windows and gave out to us (as they say here).

“You’ll get hit by a car!” said one. “The sun is going down and it’ll be dark soon, what are you thinking?” asked another. Even a week later my friend’s cousin, who was one of the people who’d stopped us, scolded me again saying, “I still can’t believe yous (<– slang for you girls, you guys, you people) were out on the road with no high vis jackets!”

I found all this fretting about high visibility jackets touching, really. Out in rural Ireland it gets really dark at night and therefore everyone who lives there owns one of these jackets. It’s as essential to the country wardrobe as Wellies and rain slickers. Whether you’re walking your dog or changing a flat tire, if it’s anywhere close to dusk you’ll be sporting one. In Los Angeles, the only people wearing high visibility jackets are road crew workers and night-time cyclists. I’ve never owned one (or even uttered the words “high visibility jacket”) my entire life. I remember that was the day I understood I was in a totally different place.

Singing of the Irish national anthem at pubs: I only recently discovered that at the end of the night, the band at a lot of pubs plays the Irish national anthem. I was at Mathew’s about a month ago when, seemingly out of nowhere, everyone stood up and started singing (well, let’s be honest, most of them didn’t know all the words and were just slurring random stuff really). It turns out this is a tradition around these parts and a cool but somewhat bizarre one at that. No one seems to know why they do it; they just do it because they’ve always done it. The thought of Americans singing their national anthem at a bar makes me laugh out loud but somehow, here, it works.

Random Irish kids at a football match (not sure if these kids are bold but they sure are cute!)

Bold Irish kids: There’s something about little freckled-faced, toe-headed Irish kids that always makes me smile – especially the bold ones. My friend’s niece, who is only three years old, was recently put into the “naughty chair” for being bad. When her father removed her from the chair and asked her if she had something to say for herself, she replied, “Yeah, f*ck off!” I know this isn’t really anything to be proud of but for some reason I found this response to be typically Irish and therefore hilarious. Tom, the 9-year-old kid my friend watches after school, is the classic bold Irish kid. He’ll hide my friend’s handbag, set all kinds of reminders on the television (so they’ll pop up during my friend’s favorite shows, interrupting the program) and basically run amok the whole time. Once, he seized some chocolate from the kitchen that was meant for someone else, ran into one of the bedrooms, locked the door and ate all the chocolate – all while my friend was pounding on the door, demanding he come out with the candy. Afterward he opened the door, face covered in chocolate, with a huge, unapologetic grin on his gob.

Enterprising spirit: Though Ireland is experiencing one of the worst recessions in its history, people in my town aren’t afraid to plow ahead with new businesses. I recently visited Cake Couture, a cake decorating shop on West Street that sells all kinds of frosting tips, food coloring pastes and other tools for professional and home bakers. Then there’s Traders, the lovely coffee shop I’ve written about before, which serves incredible coffee drinks and handcrafted sandwiches and desserts. Opening such niche businesses during a recession may seem insane to some; you might wonder who would spend 15 euro on a cake decorating kit or 2.50 euro on a cup of coffee during these trying times. But these businesses took a chance and are doing well. Most importantly, it gives the community and the economy a much-needed boost. The Irish have gone through many hardships in the past and the result is a fearless survival instinct among its people, which I truly admire.

IrishFoodies: I’m grateful and happy to be part of the IrishFoodies, a community of food bloggers in Ireland that formed about a month after I moved here. I have made many wonderful friends through this group and once a month we have a themed cook-along, where everyone makes a dish based on the theme and shares it on Twitter and their blogs. The theme this month is vegetarian (#vegetwarian on Twitter), so I came up with these Curried Butternut Squash Patties on Rocket.

Curried Butternut Squash Patties on Rocket
(makes about 8 medium patties)

1 medium-sized butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
3 tablespoons + ¼ cup olive oil
1 red bell pepper, minced
2 shallots, minced
½ green bell pepper, minced
1 tablespoon curry powder
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon garam masala
4 tablespoons wholemeal flour
1 egg
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 180 C degrees. On a baking tray, spread the butternut squash cubes out into one layer. Drizzle with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake in the oven for about 20 minutes, or until the cubes are easily pierced with a fork. While the squash bakes, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a sauté pan over medium heat. Add in the bell peppers and shallots, and cook until caramelized – about 15 minutes. Don’t stir it around too much; this will help quicken the caramelization process. Remove from heat and stir in the curry, turmeric and garam masala. Season with salt and pepper.

In a large bowl, mash the butternut squash cubes with the sautéed pepper/onion mixture. Add in the egg and mash until incorporated, then add in the wholemeal flour and mix until blended. In a shallow sauté pan, heat the remaining ¼ cup of olive oil over medium-high heat. Using a spoon, scoop out about ¼ cup of the squash mash and drop into the hot oil. Leave enough room between each patty to allow them to spread a little and do not overcrowd the pan. Cook on each side for about 2 minutes or until golden brown; careful as you flip them!

Put finished patties onto paper cloths to drain. Assemble the rocket and top with the butternut squash patties. I dressed my rocket with basic olive oil and vinegar but you can use whatever dressing you like.