Eating in Ireland

The Economist and I are in Ireland enjoying a little holiday on our way back to the US of A. Yes, we’re moving back permanently. We’re excited, but we’re also excited about Ireland.

Now, just because the Irish tiger is taking a cat nap does not mean the Irish food revolution is dead. It is alive and well, if the meals I have eaten here reflect the whole. This has largely been attributed to this woman:

I have written about Darina Allen before. She is very inspiring but can be intimidating. She runs a guesthouse and cooking school in County Cork and also... a restaurant! The Economist and I had our anniversary dinner there this year. It happened to fall on a Sunday, which is the one day a week that dinner is served as an all-you-can-eat buffet. However, this is not some greasy, rank Old Country Buffet-type affair—this was beautiful, delicious and very high class!

More on that later.

The night previous, we rolled into Cork City quite late and ended up eating dinner in the same restaurant where we once celebrated an anniversary (or was it a birthday?) when we lived in Ireland 6 years ago. The only thing I remember about that meal was the dessert—a gorgeous caramel and pear hot pudding served with vanilla ice cream—and the setting. It’s a gorgeous restaurant with tables arranged under cavernous brickworks. I’d describe it as classy but bustling. And it was certainly bustling with activity, even late at night when we got there. We decided to bring one of our Paris wines over with us to Ireland and drank it with our meal. The Economist had a cream of mushroom soup, which I swear is the same recipe from the Ballymaloe cookbook because I make a similar one. Whatever, it was delicious, at least the spoonfuls I ate. Everything was served with delicious Irish brown bread and butter. Then I had a pan seared scallop salad with a lemon beurre blanc. I am loving the hot salads. Especially when they come with fresh local seafood. The Economist had some kind of local cheese, hot, over salad with roasted pumpkin seeds and something else... can’t remember what! For dessert, we split a delicious meringue nest with lemon curd and passion fruit pulp. So good, I can’t tell you.

Well, then, the next night we had this absolute feast at Ballymaloe House. We arrived a bit early and were invited to a parlor where everyone was waiting for dinner, sipping pre-dinner drinks. Then we were shown into the dining rooms, and given our choice of soup. The Economist had the Moroccan lentil soup and I had a chicken consommé. The chicken consommé was absolutely delicious—crystal clear and so bursting with chicken flavor. And inside were delicate little shavings of fresh vegetables—among which were carrots and zucchini. It was so good I didn’t even ask for a taste of the Economist’s lentil soup.

Once we had eaten our soup and more of that same delicious brown bread (how do they make it???) we were INVITED into the buffet room. We could choose between starting with a starter course or going straight to the main course primarily of large joints of roasted meats. We could come back for each course as much as we wanted. I think I ended up getting four salad plates of starters alone. This was not the kind of buffet where they try to fill you up with cheap carbs to begin with. In fact, there were very few carbs at all and I had to ask politely to be given more of that brown bread. They started the buffet table with good stuff and ended with more good stuff. There were mussels and clams on the shell with some sort of delicious sauce. There was local fresh smoked salmon. There was Swedish gravalax with a dill mayonnaise. There were whole raw oysters. I tried one for the first time, and while it was pleasantly briny, the supposed aphrodisiac quality and the thought of the associated... shall we say... anatomy... left me less than desirous for a second. This one guy took, like, only 8 or something. There was also a shelled mussel, on a little round of brown bread with a mustard sauce and then topped with some kind of yellow mousse and decorated with a tiny little flower. There were also four different types of pate. Ooooh, I have such a weakness for pate. I had two slices of chicken liver pate with bread and it was very, very good. I’m only listing the things I ate, there was so very much more. Everything there, by the way, is house made with produce they grow and even some animals they rear themselves. Other items come from trusted farmers in the local area.

After the starters, you’re supposed to move on to a salad course, and there are so many salads to choose from. I ate, among others, some tomato salad. I was curious how this tomato salad would taste because in the Ballymaloe cookbook, Darina gives her recipe and insists that when making a tomato salad, tomato slices MUST be spread out in a SINGLE layer. And on the whole, I have to agree. It certainly made for a tasty salad. There were also just dressed greens, which are always good. There was a fantastic potato salad, probably the best I’ve ever eaten, which means I shall be looking at the recipe in the cookbook whenever I next want to make potato salad.

After I had eaten several plates of these things, I decided to transition to main dishes, those large joints of roast meats. There was such a choice and I pretty much had a slice of each. I had roast pork with applesauce, the most delicious rare roast beef, roast lamb off the leg, roast goose, and a delicious ham with hot, hot mustard. The only things I didn’t eat were the roast beef tongue and the turkey. I save my turkey eating for November and December.

Matt had a special vegetarian main dish, which was a lot like the one the night before—a cheese soufflé on salad leaves with walnuts and grapes. He said he liked it.

Then, after all that, there was still dessert. We could choose any or all of the following: coffee meringue roulade, strawberry shortbread tart, poached gooseberries, chocolate ice cream and crème brulee, all served with extra whipped cream. These items were ceremoniously wheeled on a trolley to each table as they decided they were finished with the main course. The chocolate ice cream was presented in another Ballymaloe House innovation, an ice bowl, a bowl made of solid ice on which scoops of ice cream are mounded to keep them from melting in the dining rooms. I had a slice of the strawberry shortbread tart, some crème brulee and some gooseberries, just to try them. The gooseberries were like grapes only they tasted more plain, rather like apples. The strawberry tart was delicious as well, but the real star of the dessert trolley was the crème brulee. It was presented family style, made up in a huge dish, about three quarters of an inch deep, glazed with a delicious carapace of caramelized sugar and piped with whipped cream all around the edges. Each serving came rather homily scooped up and put on the plate, the shell sliding a bit over the oozing cream. It tasted simply like a dream.

Finally, there was tea or coffee. By then we had been eating for almost three hours! The soup seemed a long, long time ago. It wasn’t gluttonous, manic, shovel-into-mouth eating, it was just a really genteel and civilized procession of courses, one following the other. Halfway through the tea though I simply had to give up, I could not eat one more bite nor drink one more sip.

It’s funny—it sounds like it was a really formal and rigid meal in a stuffy setting, but it was really so casually elegant. The servers were just guiding us through the whole process, we could eat as much as we wanted of everything, going up whenever we were ready, and if something was running short, they’d bring it over to your table for you. The tables were set with nice clean linens, simple glassware and—GASP!—real silver cutlery, which I LOVE. There is nothing quite like eating with real silver. It was a dream.

What an amazing meal! And who would have thought Ireland would be the location of some of the best food I’ve ever eaten?

Food Tourism Souvenirs

I wanted to buy a nice souvenir from France because it is likely that our trip will be the last time we'll ever go there. I was thinking a tarte tatin dish, or a madeleine pan. I couldn't find a tarte tatin pan and I decided I wouldn't really use a madeleine pan so that seemed like an impractical souvenir. (I don't make or eat madeleines and I couldn't figure out what else to use it for--muffins? I couldn't decide. It didn't seem practical.) What I really wanted was something that I would use on a regular basis for the rest of my life and whenever I used it I would remember my trips to France. Since I couldn't find a souvenir that would last forever, I decided to get something that would last no time at all. In short, I decided the best souvenir would be an edible one. So I went to a French supermarket (the infamous Monoprix, yes, sorry!) and walked the aisles picking up things that looked interesting or things that I'd had before and wanted to take and eat over to the UK.

First, I have to mention the produce at various green grocers in France. I had to buy this carton of strawberries. Strawberries in March in the UK are a vile ghost of what they are in summer, when they are fabulous. But these strawberries which were all over Paris when we were there are unbelievable. They are so fragrant and so beautifully formed, so glossy and have such beautiful colour.
Look how beautiful they are! And they tasted so good--soft and juicy, they positively gushed in the mouth. And I bet they never even once saw the inside of a fridge. I would have loved to put these into an Eton Mess, but alas, I had no kitchen.
Okay, here is something that I found at the grocery store, which I am almost frightened to try. This is rabbit pate--yes, I know, scary. But I'm fascinated by potted, preserved meats. And at another time I had a really good pork pate, pate de campagne. So rabbit pate might just be up my alley.
Valhrona is supposed to be the best chocolate available (or to quote Withnail and I, the finest chocolate available to humanity), and having now eaten some, I have to agree. This is the best chocolate I have ever had. Since I only got a small amount, we've been eating it plain in small bites. If you ever have a chance to try it don't miss it. I like it because it is intensely chocolately without any of the acrid hit of most dark chocolate. It's also deliciously smooth when it melts in the mouth. It's fabulous.
Here are a couple of canned pates, pate de campagne, which I had at a restaurant with bread, and terrine aux cepes, a pate of mushrooms, for the vegetarians among us.
This is probably my second favourite pure candy (after American Smarties). They're hard candies with fruit syrup on the inside. There used to be an American candy called Juicefuls, which are pretty much the same, but I haven't seem them in a few years. Do they still exist?
I was also sure to pick up some charcuterie (cold cuts or other cooked meats) with these saucissons secs--dried sausages. I can't wait to try these, but I'm not sure what to have them with. I also got some refrigerated sliced jambon de paris (ham) which I hope to put into a sandwich or eat like proper charcuterie, with bread and some olives or cornichons.
I also got these fabulous packets of vanilla sugar. I've always wanted to make vanilla sugar (by putting some caster sugar in a jar with some whole vanilla pods) but the vanilla pods always seemed so expensive. These sugar packets are fantastic. I put half a packet in my hot chocolate this morning, and saw that not only does it smell and taste beautifully of vanilla, it is also full of tiny vanilla seeds, the true mark of a good vanilla sugar.
I know you can get Bonne Maman jams everywhere now, even at Super Wal-mart, but I've never seen this Fruitee Intense label before. It's still jam but more fruity and less sugary. It's less well-set and feels more like a juicy fruit compote than a jam. I've been spooning it over a butter-spread baguette just about every morning since we got back.
I once had a steak with a fabulous bearnaise butter and I thought this sauce might be an easy way to achieve a similar flavour without having to go to the trouble of making bearnaise myself, although I do hope to try it sometime. (But it sounds like a lot of work and I'm scared of sauces containing eggs!) Bearnaise sauce is made of butter and egg yolks with a white wine and shallot reduction, mixed with fresh tarragon. So complicated! I don't care if this jarred sauce is unsophisticated, I'm giving it a try.
This is a very interesting thing: fleur de sel--flower of salt. It's a type of salt gathered from sea marshes by hand. It's quite a bit more expensive than regular table salt but it's valued because it's quite rare, hand gathered, and because it's unrefined provenance gives it a special flavour and often a slightly pink or grey tinge. I've had a bit and haven't noticed too much of a difference, but I'm going to experiment more with putting it on fresh things like salads and tomatoes.

Last but not least...

The only thing better than an edible souvenir is a quaffable one! The Economist and I went to a wine shop and told the man we had 60 euro, and wanted 4 bottles, 2 red, 2 white; and could he please pick some good wines for us. And he did! And gave us a whole list of what we should drink each wine with. The two best wines I've ever had, I've had in France (and they were both white incidently) so we figured maybe we'd give it another try.

We are going to have an English style Sunday lunch sometime in the next few weeks for our friends and we're very much looking forward to enjoying some of these groceries with them, especially the wine!

C'est tout.

UPDATE:

I also wanted to mention that foods are also really cheap, as well as pleasing, souvenirs. Sometimes they can be a bit of hassle though. The Economist once drove down to Key West with a bunch of his friends for New Years. And he brought back an actual Key Lime Pie, stored, still frozen, in a styrofoam cooler full of dry ice. We're talking about a 28 hour drive split over two days. And a fully intact, delicious, true Key Lime Pie to eat when he got home. How fabulous is that?

Paris Redux

Oh my goodness, ya'll, I went to Paris for 5 days and it was fabulous. We spent a lot of our time eating out at restaurants. Much excellent food was eaten by all. To name a few standouts:

--The excellent north african cous cous that we liked so much we went back for more. I have experimented the last few days with making my own vegetarian and meat versions with moderate success. If I make them again I'll post the recipes. It's nowhere near as good but it's still pretty good, and I'll keep experimenting to perfect it.

--A fantastic starter salad of puy lentils cooked in goose fat with caramelised shallots, horseradish (?), and topped with bacon lardons. Fabulous, and I think I can reproduce it. The French are schooled in the art of the judicious application of bacon.

--A chocolate mousse that came out in massive proportion in a large serving bowl. I was given a heaping pile of it and the serving bowl was left on my table, but I don't think they intended for me to eat the rest of it (surely not!). Yet if I was, later in the night, served a half-eaten bowl of mousse, I might raise an eyebrow. This is definitely redo-able but actually I prefer the thick, rich, smooth chocolate pudding to which I'm currently addicted.

--The Economist had an asparagus cream soup with mushrooms that he thinks is the best thing he ate in France. I had a spoonful and it was certainly heavenly smooth and creamy.

--Before one of our meals we partook in an aperitif, a kir, which is white wine mixed with blackcurrant liqueur. It's cool and fruity, goes down really easy and whets the appetite for what's to come.

--For the first time in my life I tried foie gras, served with thinly sliced toast and this weird stock jello stuff. The foie gras was... what can I say?... delicious! It has the smooth, rich texture of butter, but the taste of delicate meat. I know that may not sound appealing, but it was oh so good. I had it twice. The first time I finished it and told the Economist, 'Now that I've had it, I don't feel the need to chase after it ever again.' Two days later I couldn't get it off my mind and the next menu I saw it on, I had to have it. It was just as good. The first time I had it, it was served with that stock jello, just really intense pieces of gelatinous stock--I think. I'm not really sure. The second time it was served with lots of freshly ground pepper and course salt on top. Also delicious. And I'm a salt fiend so salt is always appreciated.

--We filled out meals with visits to an ice cream shop which I'm sure everyone has heard of when mentioning Paris in the same breath--Bertillion. It is without a doubt the best ice cream I have ever had. We always get two flavours in a cone, and they're incredible together but even alone, each ice cream is so intensely flavoured--the vanilla is powerfully vanilla, and the fruit sorbets are so sharp and taste like just frozen crushed fruit. The Economist had a Bertillion lime sorbet which tasted like pure frozen fresh-squeezed lime juice.

Well that's all for now about Paris.

Like a good tourist, I also picked up some souvenirs. However, these souvenirs are all blessedly edible. I went to a french grocery shop and picked up whatever I thought looked interesting and what I decided I would like to eat more of later on. A post on that is forthcoming.