I just posted this recipe on my blog.
The Google Ad that popped up next to it:
"Irish Recipes"
Thanks a lot Google.
All I can think of is that Denis Leary bit:
"I was in Barnes & Noble the other day, I saw a book entitled 'Irish Cuisine,'
and I nearly laughed my balls off.
Irish Cuisine?! What are we famous for cuisine-wise?
We put everything in a pot and we boil it for seventeen and a half hours straight, until you can eat it with a straw.
(mimics slurping through a straw) Thanks, Ma. Where's dessert?
Okay, there it is.
(mimics slurping through a straw)
Thanks, Ma!
It's not a cuisine, folks. That's penance."
1 comment:
Oh I remember as a young boy in Ireland running home from St. Bridget’s School in the rain and blustering wind. Through fields of ponies and sheep I hopped and skipped to get to our thatched cottage on the hill looking over the valley. I'd enter and see my father playing the uilleann pipes in one hand and drinking whiskey in the other. My mother would be slaving over our communal pot by the fire singing old folk songs about those damn English and such.
I’d throw my satchel on the wicker chair and cry “Mammy! What delights have you made for my supper”
“Colin, M’Darling” she would say “Your favorite, in fact it’s everyone’s favorite generic Irish authentic cuisine”
“Oh Mammy! You know how much I love Generic Mac and Cheese, Frozen Spinach, Frozen Corn, 2 hamburger patties, Milk, Butter and spices”
Spices” I would rejoice.
“It’ll put hair on your balls” my father would quip, as our nuclear family broke down in fits of hysterical love filled laughter.
Thank you for the memory sue funke. And THANK YOU Mr. Google!
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