What a pisser!

I've had a letter to the editor published in the latest issue of EASY FOOD. I can't count that as a publication on my CV, but I still found it quite a crack up.

It was a great letter-- that is, the one I emailed to the editor, in its entirety, was a great letter. The last sentence was corny, magazine-y: it even had a direct address to the publication and a gratuitous exclamation point: "Thank you, EASY FOOD, for helping me to broaden my cultural and culinary horizons." Notice, also, the graceful punctuation and the balance of diction in the end. I gave myself an A. This letter, I believed, would win the "luxury hamper"-- a basket of wine, cheese, crackers, etc., which I would've gotten in time to share with my Mom, Dad, and Grandma when they visit in a few weeks.

Alas, the letter the EASY FOOD feckers published was severely edited. It was shortened to two or three sentences in length, and they even adjusted the syntax, putting commas where there shouldn't have been. The letter that won the "luxury hamper" was written by Shirley from BFE, and it wasn't half as literary. I think she won because she offered suggestions to help improve the magazine.

If I were an editor, I wouldn't award anyone who was overly critical of my publication. I'd read the letter and be like, "Right, this is going straight to the bin." Then, when I saw a great letter, which both praised the publication and credited it for making measuring in metric easier, I'd be like, "Yes, let's give this person-- Andrea, from Dublin-- TWO luxury hampers."

I blame EASY FOOD for making it so my family will have to eat Tesco Value crackers when they come to visit.

Most Interesting Person in the World

The title above refers to someone of paramount intelligence, infinite beauty, and biting wit. This person bakes, leaps tall buildings in a single bound, speaks Esperanto and deciphers hieroglyphics. This person has invented the penny, hunted wild boar, and saved entire countries from deforestation in only 27 short years of life. This person, of course, is ME. Or, at least this is the me my one-year-old son believes I am.

If company comes round looking for Evan, they should know he isn't hiding in the curtains or emptying cupboards in the bathroom. Look for him stuck to the hem of my skirt. It isn't that I drag him where ever I go, more that he attracts himself to me as a magnet does its opposite side. It's gotten so that I will stand him at one end of the room--in front of the window, then I'll build an obstacle course of blocks, trucks, and books between us just so I can get to the kitchen area to wash the dishes without a little person digging his nails into the backs of my knees. He can navigate through the pile of rubble in seconds, and then I'm at it again-- soapy hands trying to pry him off of me so I can finish whatever "important" task I'm set to.

I'm not a Mean Mom. I don't always shoo him away. I usually pick him up so he can see what I'm doing. This is becoming more of a problem lately: if I'm washing dishes, he wants to plunge his hands into the greasy water; if I'm brushing my teeth, he wants a taste of the brush; if I'm putting on a pair of tights, he has to touch and stretch them. Being a one-year-old is all about discovery, and I know this-- but the other day, as I was playing with Evan on the floor, he slapped me on the thigh, and when it jiggled, he laughed. I was slightly offended. Can you blame me?

However, no one else in the world thinks I'm so great. No one else would be amused by the noise flabby jiggle makes when it's smacked. No one else would be absolutely desperate to watch my every move. Living with Evan is like living with a really cute and very effective stalker.

My sister Angela suggested that I make a belt with an Evan-sized basket attached to it. This way, he could just crawl in and ride around in it all day long. I'm sure he'd be very pleased with this-- in a way, I would be, too. Someday he'll turn 13 and won't want to hug me or talk to me. And I prefer the current situation to that!

Grandpa Dick visits Po' Bastard's Kitchen

Andrew's dad, aka Grandpa Dick, aka Apick (this last phrase invented by Grandma Cindy's oldest grandson, Jabob, who couldn't pronounce "Grandpa Dick", and coined this nickname instead-- I think it's brill), is visiting with us in Dublin until Tuesday.

In addition to lugging a suitcase full of diapers, toys, clothes, Christmas gifts, and food, he has been an excellent houseguest because he eats virtually anything Po' Bastard puts in front of him. Po' Bastard sees this as testimony to her extremely-above-average-at-least- 2.5- star cooking, but it could also mean that Grandpa Dick is just so hungry all the time from walking castle walls in Wales that he doesn't care much what Po' Bastard makes.

Anyway, when your Grandpa Dick visits YOU, this is what you should feed him after a day of castle-seeing in rural Wales:

Po' Bastard's Sweet Potato, Pear, and Chicken Soup (no, really)

Ingredients:
-2 chicken breast halves, poached, left to cool, and shredded
-4-5 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and diced
-1 large carrot, peeled and diced
-3 small pears, cored and diced
-8 cups chicken broth
-3 cloves garlic, unpeeled and left whole
-1 whole onion, topped, tailed, and peeled
- generous dashes of: cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg
-salt and pepp
-a small handful of some little noodles, like macaroni, if you want

Method:
Poach the chicken in some water until it's cooked. Cool it, shred it finely, and then set it aside. Dissolve the broth cubes in the water, bring everything to the boil, and toss in the sweet potatoes, carrot, pears, cloves of garlic, and onion. Add the seasoning, give everything a stir, turn it down to a simmer, and cover with a lid. Let everything go like this for about an hour, until the vegetables and stuff are very tender. Take the pot off the heat, fish out the garlic cloves and the onion, and then mash everything up with a potato masher. Stir in the shredded chicken, put back on the heat, and add the noodles. Heat it slowly again for a few minutes, put the lid back on, and then just turn off the pan and leave it on the burner. The noodles will cook from the residual heat left in the pan, and this way the flavours mingle and mix.

Po' Bastard served this with cheese-topped foccacia bread... the recipe for that can also be found on this site. Rest assured that though this mix sounds like something found in a baby food jar that it comes with the Grandpa Dick Seal of Approval. He ate at least two bowls, and said it was, "Good soup."

Po' Bastard's Red Lentil Soup

I made this soup for Vegetarian Brother-in-Law... but ate a lot of it myself. In fact, I challenged him to a duel over the last bowl. Sadly, it was knocked to the floor in the scuffle, and we lapped it up off the floor like dogs instead.

Po' Bastard's Red Lentil Soup

Ingredients:
-454 grams red split lentils
-6 cups vegetable broth
-1 can diced tomatoes (also: fill the can with water and dump that in too)
-1 onion, chopped.
-1 stalk of celery, chopped
-1 bay leaf
-1 tsp. curry powder
-4 cloves garlic, minced
-salt and pepper to taste

Saute the garlic and onion in a little oil. When they are soft, add the broth, lentils, rest of the chopped veg and the canned tomatoes. Bring to a boil, add the bay lead and the seasoning. Let it simmer, covered for a long time--maybe an hour or longer-- until the lentils are very cooked and have turned themselves into a puree. You will need to stir it often so it doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan, and you might need to add some more liquid to thin it out a bit-- water or more broth would do, if this happens.

This soup is not for wimpy bitches.

Sad Things: Good Lessons

Apologies for not many recent updates. We have a few days without company, so I'll make an effort to post more in the next few days.

The Irish news media has been consumed by reports about the murder of an 11-year-old boy, Robert Holohan. Today, they revealed that he died of asphyxiation, and that there was no evidence of sexual assault. The Gardai have rounded up several suspects and have begun questioning.

Well? you might think-- that's all really sad and horrible, but stuff like that happens all the time in America and doesn't get half as much news coverage. True enough. One of the most important differences to note about Ireland and America is that this is only the fourth child murder here in over 40 YEARS. Imagine that: only three other cases of similar violence in FOUR DECADES. Why is that?

My theory, in part, is that American culture, while wonderfully rich and textured and abundant, is rife with violence. A large part of American identity seems to stem from the notion that we--The SuperPower-- could kick anyone's ass at any time; and, in my opinion, that's nothing to be proud of. Rather, it's something to be afraid of.

When a kid is murdered in America, we hear a little about it on the news, think briefly about the child or family involved, and go on about the day. In Ireland, people went to mass to pray for Robert Holohan and his family. The Gardai sent officers to guard the site where Robert's body was found: firstly to make sure the premises weren't disturbed, and secondly to accept the floral tributes that arrived there throughout the evening and into today.

Another thing to help Americans understand the deep level of Irish compassion: in the tsunami disaster, it's estimated that the Republic donated something like 8 million Euro. This country has a population of 3.5 million-- this figure could mean that every single person who lives here donated something. I did, twice: once at church, and once down at Matt Weldon, the pub up the street from where I live.

Q: How can you tell a SuperPower isn't so Super?
A: When the list of "Top Ten Worst Things to Happen in Ireland During 2004" includes the visit
of SuperPower Leader among them.

Po' Bastard's Freakin' Awesome Focaccia

One of the only reasons Po' Bastard's friends continue to stay friends is because of the recipe below:

Ingredients:
-4-4 1/2 cups flour (part whole wheat is OK)
-1/2 c. olive oil
-1 tbsp. salt
-1 packet quick rise yeast
-1 1/3 c. warm water
-sprinkling of cornmeal
-Italian spices of your choice (garlic, basil, oregano, etc.)
-something to decorate the top of the bread

Method:
Dissolve the yeast in the warm water. Stir in the olive oil. Add one cup flour, and stir together until very smooth. Add the salt, stir that in, too; and then, the spices to suit your taste-- stir those in. Add the flour one cupful at a time. Keep mixing together. At some point, you won't be able to stir in the flour anymore; mix the dough with your hands until it doesn't stick to your fingers. Leave it on the counter, cover it with the bowl you were mixing it in, and let it rise for about 45 minutes.

After the dough has risen, sprinkle a cookie sheet with a little cornmeal, and spread the dough into a rough square or circle. Dimple it with your fingers, rub a little more olive oil on top, and then decorate with your toppings,-- like cheese, olives, red onion rings, cloves of roasted garlic, whatever. Bake in the oven at 400 degrees for about 22-25 minutes, until the bread is golden and it sounds hollow when you tap the edge of it with your finger.

Notes:
1. I served this on Christmas Eve with shredded balsamic-marinated chicken and roasted vegetables. We lined up to make our own sandwiches, and it was quite casual and also good. "Very savoury," commented brother-in-law, the Ultimate Vegetarian; and "Really good," said Pregnant Sister.
2. Remember that a partially whole wheat loaf won't rise as much as an entirely white one. They both taste great, though in my opinion, I think an all-white loaf looks very impressive-- partially whole wheat more rustic.
3. This makes a moist and rich pizza crust, just leave out the spices.
4. Remember: this bread is EASY! It makes itself! There's hardly any work involved. Try it!