A Relic From a Time Past

A Relic From a Time Past irish cuisine & ot her stories

edited & compiled by Sarah Rocco

a relic from a time past

A Relic From a Time Past

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irish cuisine & other stories

a relic from a time past

A Relic From a Time Past irish cuisine & other stories

edited & compiled by Sarah Rocco

PENGUIN BOOKS NEW YORK 2013

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irish cuisine & other stories

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PENGUIN BOOKS Published by the Penguin Group Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. Penguin Books, Ltd, 80 Strand, London, WC2R 0RI, England Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria, 3124, Australia Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2 Penguin Books India (P) Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India Penguin Books (NZ) Ltd, 'Cnr Rosedale And Airborne Roads, Albany, Auckland 10, New Zealand Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee, Avenue, Rosebank, Joahnnesburg 2196, South Africa Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC24 0RI, England

First published in the United States of America

by Penguin Books 2013 11 13 15 16 19 21 39 23 12 18 Copyright © Sarah Rocco, 2013 All rights reserved Photography and imagery are by the author.

Preface: collaborated on with Mairead, and Ruth & Gary.

Page 11: The Stolen Child by W. B. Yeats used with permission of W. W. Norton & Company.

Pages 17–32, 20–32, 35–43, 47–51: The Seduction of Water by Carol Goodman used with permission of Ballantine Books.

Printed in the United States of America Designed & typeset by Sarah Rocco Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or over other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN–13: 978–0–149–17364–3

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to Sara: my design buddy, my inspiration, my friend— even if you spell your name wrong.

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irish desserts & otherpreface stories

• There is an Irish saying: “If wars were fought with words, Ireland would rule the world.”

The written and spoken word is revered in Ireland. A deft use of language is renowned Irish virtue. Those who can string words together romantically, forming lyrical sentences are revered. Many of the literary geniuses of the world have hailed from Ireland. Joyce, Yeats, and Swift, are but a few.

The ancient order of Celtic poets’ verses, stories, and proverbs were handed down orally through the generations. And much advice is held in their soft words, easing the harshness of the vital, life lessons they carry.

Throughout this cookbook, you will find the mystical tale (in 3 parts) of a Selkie captured from the sea, and a faery, both common mythical creatures in Irish culture.

The Selkie, a shape shifting faery living in the cold waters off the coast of the Shetland and Orkney Islands in the United Kingdom, reveals to us the power of our connection to our homeland and the homeland of our ancestors. Somewhere in our past, the land of our ancestors calls to us, and we too, know the feeling of longing for home.

Irish Soda Bread, a traditional product of a poor country, was made with only the most basic of ingredients: flour, baking soda (used as a leavening agent instead of yeast), soured milk to moisten and activate the soda, and salt. Before baking, a cross was cut on the top with a knife, to ward off the • devil and protect the household.

a relic from a time past réamhrá

• Tá Gaeilge ag rá: “Má bhí throid cogaí le focail a bheadh Éire riail an domhan.”

Is é an focal scríofa agus labhartha revered in Éirinn. Tá úsáid deft teanga cáil bhua Gaeilge.

Iad siúd ar féidir leo focail a teaghrán le chéile romantically a bheidh ina abairtí lyrical iad revered. Go leor de na geniuses liteartha an domhain a bheith hailed as Éirinn. Joyce Yeats agus Swift iad ach cúpla.

Tugadh an t-ordú ársa Ceilteach filí véarsaí scéalta seanfhocail agus síos ó bhéal trí na glúine. Agus is é comhairle i bhfad ar siúl ina gcuid focal bog easing an harshness na ceachtanna saoil ríthábhachtach a dhéanann siad.

Ar fud an cookbook a bheidh tú ag teacht ar an scéal mystical (i 3 chuid) de Selkie gabhadh ón bhfarraige agus a Sí an dá créatúir mythical coitianta ó chultúr na hÉireann.

An Selkie cruth aistriú Sí ina gcónaí sna huiscí fuar amach ó chósta na Inse Shealtainn agus Orc sa Ríocht Aontaithe Nochtann dúinn an chumhacht ár nasc chuig ár dtír dhúchais agus an tír dhúchais ár sinsear. Áit éigin in ár am atá caite , glaonna ar an talamh ár sinsear dúinn agus tá a fhios againn freisin an mothú fonn abhaile.

Arán Soda Ghaeilge ar a táirge traidisiúnta tír bhocht gan ach an chuid is mó bunúsacha na gcomhábhar : plúr , sóid aráin (a úsáidtear mar ghníomhaire deascaidh ionad giosta) soured bainne a moisten agus lena ngníomhaíochtaítear an Soda agus salann. Sula bácáil bhí tras gearrtha ar an barr le scian • chun bharda as an diabhal agus a chosaint ar an teaghlach.

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preface

From the earliest times, bread making was an integral part of daily life in almost every home. Families lived in isolated farmhouses where most kitchens had only open hearths, not ovens, so the breads that developed were baked on griddles or in large three-legged black iron pots over fragrant turf fires. This method resulted in a loaf that was tender and dense, with a slight sour tang and a hard crust. Being quite perishable, it was made every 2–3 days and eaten with the main meal, not as dessert.

Woven within the stories are variations of recipes for Irish Soda Bread; between chapters you will find variations of recipes for Irish Bread Pudding, both mirroring the ties that exist in Irish culture between cooking and storytelling. These recipes represent the variations in our past as well as our similarities.

This book is presented in an English/Irish format representing the continuous melding of cultures and traditions.

Slan agus beannacht leat.

réamhrá

Ón am is luaithe, bhí a dhéanamh arán mar chuid lárnach den saol laethúil i mbeagnach gach baile. Teaghlaigh cónaí i tithe feirme scoite amach nuair nach raibh ach dtinteáin nach bhfuil oscailte, oighinn chuid is mó cistiní, mar sin bhí bhácáilte arán a fhorbairt ar na griddles nó i bpotaí iarainn dubh trílegged mór thar tinte móna cumhra. An modh seo mar thoradh ar builín go raibh tairisceana agus dlúth, le tang géar beag agus screamh crua. Bheith go leor meatacha, a rinneadh é gach 2-3 lá agus a ithe leis an béile is mó, ní mar milseog.

Uigí laistigh de go bhfuil na scéalta athruithe ar oidis do Arán Sóid na hÉireann; idir caibidlí gheobhaidh tú athruithe ar oidis do Pudding Arán na hÉireann, idir mirroring na ceangail atá ann i gcultúr na hÉireann idir chócaireacht agus scéalaíocht. Is ionann na oidis ar na héagsúlachtaí inár am atá caite chomh maith lenár cosúlachtaí.

Tá an leabhar seo i láthair i bhformáid Béarla / Gaeilge a ionadaíonn do na melding leanúnach cultúir agus traidisiúin.

Goodbye and farewell.

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irish desserts & other stories

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a relic from a time past

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table of contents the selkie’s daughter

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the broken pearl

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the net of tears

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irish bread pudding sauces

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tam lin

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recipe index

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credits

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Graphic?

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Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we’ve hid our faery vats, Full of berrys And of reddest stolen cherries.

Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And anxious in its sleep.

Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

W.B. Yeats

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SELKIE Illustration?

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irish desserts & other stories

• IRISH BREAD PUDDING ¼ C butter 1 French bread baguette ½ C raisins ¼ C Irish whiskey 1 ¾ C milk 1 C sugar 1 Tbsp vanilla 1 can evaporated milk 2 eggs 1 Tbsp sugar 1 tsp cinnamon • HOW TO Preheat oven to 350° F. Brush melted butter on French bread.

Bake bread at 350° for 10 minutes.

Cut bread.

Combine raisins & whiskey in bowl.

Cover & let stand 10 minutes.

Combine milk, sugar, vanilla, eggs.

Stir with a whisk.

Add bread cubes and raisin mixture.

Sprinkle sugar & cinnamon.

Bake at 350° for 35 minutes.

Serve with Caramel-Whiskey Sauce.

• CAR AMEL-WHISKEY SAUCE 1 ½ C sugar ⅔ C water ¼ C butter ¼ C cream cheese (Neufchâtel) ¼ C Irish whiskey ¼ C milk

a relic from a time past

• PUDDING AR ÁN HÉIREANN ¼ C im 1 Baguette arán Fraincis ½ C rísíní ¼ C uisce beatha na hÉireann 1 ¾ C bainne 1 C siúcra 1 Tbsp fanaile 1 is féidir le galaithe bainne 2 uibheacha 1 Tbsp siúcra 1 tsp cainéil a chur leis • CONAS A Teas suas oigheann go 350° F. Scuab im leáite ar arán Fraincis Bhácáil arán 350° feadh 10 nóiméad Gearrtha arán Le chéile rísíní & fuisce i mbabhla Chlúdach & lig seasamh 10 nóiméad Le chéile bainne, siúcra, fanaile, uibheacha Corraigh le whisk Cuir ciúbanna arán agus raisin meascán Sprinkle siúcra & cainéil Bhácáil ag 350° feadh 35 nóiméad Sheirbheáil leis Sauce Carmel-Fuisce

• ANLANN FUISCE CAR AMAL 1 ½ siúcra ⅔ C uisce ¼ C im ¼ C uachtair (Neufchâtel) ¼ C uisce beatha hÉireann ¼ C bainne

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the selkie’s daughter

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n a time before the rivers were drowned by the sea, in a land between the sun and the moon. In this land, where our people came from, the fishermen told a story about a man who fell in love with one of the seal women, selkies the people called them, seals that once a year could shed their skin and become women. And no one ever knew which they had been first, seal or woman, which is part of their mystery.

When you looked into the seal’s eyes you could see the human being looking out, but when you heard the woman singing you could hear the sound of the sea in her voice.

BROWN SODA BREAD 53

AR ÁN SÓIDE DONN

4 C whole-wheat flour 1/2 C white flour 1 1/4 tsp baking soda 1 1/2 tsp salt 2 C buttermilk

4 C plúr cruithneachta uile 1/2 C plúr bán 1 1/4 tsp sóid aráin 1 1/2 tsp salann 2 C bláthach

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And so it happened that on that one day a farmer went down to the sea to collect seashells for his garden paths. He wanted the path to his house to glow in the moonlight like broken pearls. That’s what he was thinking about when he looked up and saw, sunning herself on a rock, a girl with skin like crushed pearls and hair as dark as coal. The dark-haired girl with pearl skin sang like something you might hear in a dream, sweeter than anything you’d hear in a theater or Carnegie Hall even. And so the farmer fell in love with the dark-haired girl and decided he wanted her for a wife, but when he tried to get closer to the rock where she sat, she heard him and dived into the water.

The farmer stood on the shore watching for the girl, sure that she couldn’t stay in the water for long. Then he saw, out beyond the breakers, a sleek dark head appear. But she wasn’t a girl anymore, she was a Seal.

The farmer stood for a long time looking at the ocean thinking over what he had seen, or what he thought he had seen, but at last he remembered he had cows to milk and chickens to feed and so he turned his back to the ocean and went on home. But he couldn’t forget the dark-haired girl and her beautiful voice.

He was so lovesick for the selkie girl that he was unable to sleep and the sound of the ocean, which he’d heard since the day he was born, began to grate on his nerves. It seemed there was always sand in his bed no matter how many times he’d shake out his sheets and even with all the windows open he’d feel as if he were suffocating inside his cottage.

Things went on like this until the farmer began to neglect his fields. His cows went unmilked and his hens wandered into his neighbors’ yards looking for

a relic from a time past

food. In desperation, he sought out the help of an old wise woman who lived in a cottage on a cliff above the sea. The minute she laid eyes on the farmer she knew by his shrunken pupils and the way his ribs stood out under his threadbare shirt like the hull of a staved-in boat, and how his hair was tangled like a mass of seaweed, what his problem was.

“How long has it been since you saw the selkie?” she asked him, sitting him down by the fire and giving him a cup of bitter-tasting tea.

“It’ll be a year tomorrow,” he told her, “to the day. I remember because it was the first day of spring.”

The old woman smiled. “As if you needed that to remember,” she scolded, but she didn’t tell him to forget the selkie. Instead she told him to finish his tea, which would make him sleep.

“Then tomorrow, go back to BUTTER MILK SCONES the rock where you saw her. You 2 C all-purpose flour must swim out to the rock, being 5 Tbsp sugar careful she doesn’t hear you. By 3 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp baking soda her side you’ll see a rolled-up 1/2 C chilled butter skin that you must snatch away 1 C buttermilk 1 Tbsp heavy cream from her. Once you have her skin 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon she’ll have no choice but to follow you home.”

SCÓNAÍ BLÁTHACH “And she will stay, be my wife?”

2 C plúr uile-críche “She’ll stay and be your wife.”

5 Tbsp siúcra “And bear my children?"

3 tsp púdar bácála 1/2 tsp sóid aráin “She will bear your children.”

1/2 C im fuaraithe “And she might, one day, grow 1 C bláthach to love me?”

1 Tbsp uachtar trom 1/4 tsp talamh cainéil The old woman shrugged, but whether to say she didn’t know

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or that he asked too much, the farmer never knew.

Already the tea was dragging his eyelids down and making his arms and legs heavy. He staggered from the old woman’s hut and only made it home because it was all downhill from where she lived to his front door.

He didn’t even bother finding his bed but fell asleep on a rug in front of the fire.

When he awoke he saw by the angle of the light coming through the window that he’d nearly overslept the day–he felt as if he’d been asleep for a year–but then he heard above the roar of the ocean a voice singing. Her voice.

He ran toward the sea, remembering at the last minute to creep quietly down to the edge and slip into the water making as little noise as possible. Fortunately, the slap of the waves of the encroaching tide masked his clumsy thrashing in the water as he approached the rock. He saw the dark-haired girl and there beside her a bundle–her skin–sleek and shiny in the light of the setting sun, like a coal burning slowly from within.

As soon as he laid his hand on the skin the dark-haired girl turned and gave him a look that froze his blood.

Her eyes, fringed by coal-dark lashes, were the pale green of sea foam. He opened his mouth and swallowed so much seawater he would have sunk to the bottom of the ocean right then if he hadn’t clutched the skin to his chest. It acted like a life preserver; it was that buoyant. He turned and swam back to shore trying to forget the look the girl had given him. She’d change her mind about him, he thought, once she got used to him.

It was harder getting to shore than he’d figured. A sudden wind had risen that whipped the waves into

a relic from a time past

a frenzy. Although the skin kept him afloat it also seemed to be pulling him out to sea. The current that wrapped around his legs seemed to have muscle to it, like a giant eel squeezing the life breath out of him.

By the time he dragged himself out onto the sand, he was too weak to stand. He’d imagined himself holding the skin up before the girl like a proud conqueror, but instead he clutched the soft fur to his face like a baby mouthing his blanket for comfort. The skin still felt warm to the touch–as if it had absorbed the sun into its very fiber. When he looked up he saw the darkhaired girl sitting a few feet above him where the sand rose to a crest above the shoreline.

Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her long hair fell around her legs like a curtain to hide her nakedness. Her sea-green eyes watched him impassively.

BAR MBR ACK 54 Waiting to see if I’m drowned or 1 C flour not, he thought. When she saw 3/4 C sugar that he wasn’t dead, she got up 2 C mixed dried fruit 1 tsp baking powder and walked away from the ocean 1 egg toward his house. It was he, after 1 Tbsp mixed spice all, who followed her home.

1 pot of hot Irish Tea For a time things seemed all right with the farmer and his BAR MBR ACK 54 selkie bride. She bore him five 1 C plúr children: a girl first and then four 3/4 C siúcra sons, all with dark hair and pale 2 C torthaí triomaithe measctha 1 tsp púdar bácála green eyes. She learned to cook 1 ubh and clean and tend the farmer’s 1 Tbsp spíosra measctha animals and garden. Everything 1 pota tae te hÉireann she touched became beautiful.

She hung shells and pieces of sea

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glass in the windows in such a way that they made music when the wind blew. Her voice could calm a mare in foal and coax the sheep to stand still for shearing.

The only thing she couldn’t learn to do was to knit or tat lace or mend the fishing nets. No matter how hard the village women tried to teach her she couldn’t make a single knot. She couldn’t even learn to braid her daughter’s hair or tie the ribbon on her own dress.

In fact, the women noticed that when she came into the knitting circle they all dropped their stitches and the sweaters they were working on unraveled at the hems. Soon the women made up errands to send her on to keep her out of the circle and since the knitting circle was the time the women shared their stories and gossip she was, in the course of things, excluded.

She didn’t seem to mind.

She could be heard singing to herself over her chores. Her singing was so beautiful that strangers would stand on the road to listen to her. Sometimes, though, the songs would grow so sad that people in the village would find themselves weeping for no reason and they would be unable to sleep at night. This was especially true on two days of the year: the vernal and the autumnal equinox. On those days her song–and it seemed indeed to be one song, which she started at the break of day and left off only when the sun had sunk into the sea–was so achingly sad no one was able to get any work done at all. Porridge was burned, fishing nets were lost, thumbs were hammered, cheese spoiled, ink spilled, and sweaters unraveled into heaps of greasy wool.

After a few years of this the villagers asked the farmer to prohibit his wife from singing on those days.

a relic from a time past

“I might as well ask the earth not to turn,” he told them. “For spring not to follow winter and winter not to follow fall.”

This is the answer he gave year after year, but when their oldest child was ten years old, he grew tired of the looks the women gave him and the things the men said behind his back about not knowing how to control his womenfolk.

“It’s for your own good,” he told his wife. “Your singing only makes you sadder. And then you don’t sleep. Think about the children. Do you want them infected with your sadness?”

The look she gave him then was the same look she gave him from the rock that day he took her skin from her. He hadn’t seen that look from her since and when he did it was as if his mouth filled up with seawater and he felt himFRECKLED BREAD self sinking. But she did as he said 1 potato and never said a word. On that 1 1/2 C water 5 C all-purpose flour first day of spring she stayed in2 packages dry yeast side the house and never so much 1/3 C sugar as opened her mouth. She took 2 eggs 1/2 C butter the chimes from the windows and 1 C raisins closed the flue in the chimney so she couldn’t hear the wind whisAR ÁN BRICÍNEACH tling through it. She scolded her 1 prátaí daughter for chanting a rhyme 1 1/2 C uisce 5 C plúr uile-críche while skipping rope. She’d never 2 pacáistí giosta tirim scolded her for anything before.

1/3 C siúcra The day after the equinox the 2 uibheacha 1/2 C im farmer thought that things would 1 C rísíní go back to normal, but they didn’t.

She went about her chores like a

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thing made of stone. She made the porridge, but she burned it. The animals shied away at her touch. When she looked at her children it was as if she were looking through clear water.

Things went on like this through the summer. The farmer hoped at first that she would change, but when she didn’t he hardened his heart against her. It was the girl who followed her mother when she left the house at night. She’d find her mother curled in a ball between the cows in the barn or wedged between the rocks on the shore, trying to find a place where she could cheat the sleeplessness that seemed to be always upon her now. As the nights grew cooler she saw her mother shivering in her thin nightdress out in the open and she thought that if things went on like this her mother would freeze to death.

It was a night in September–the night before the autumnal equinox–that the temperature, as if in anticipation of the planet’s tilt away from the sun, dropped so low that the girl could see her mother’s breath turn into ice on the rocks around her. The heavy mist from the sea was turning to crystals in her mother’s hair, so heavy that she could hear the strands chiming in the cold sea breeze. If she didn’t do something her mother would be frozen solid by the morning.

She ran back to the house and opened the blanket chest but the farmer had already heaped the extra quilts on his sons’ beds. Her hands scraped against the bottom of the trunk, scrabbling over the rough wood until her fingers bled from the splinters. She dug her nails into the wood just to feel the pain and then, to her surprise, the bottom pried loose and her hands sunk into something warm and silky soft.

a relic from a time past

She thought it was something alive.

Even when she lifted the heavy fur up and saw that it was an animal skin she still couldn’t believe it was a dead thing. The skin pulsed with warmth and glowed like a burning coal. She held it to her cheek and smelled the ocean in it. She heard the ocean in it trapped in each bristling hair, the way a shell holds the sound of the ocean deep in its whorls.

She wrapped the fur around her shoulders and ran to where her mother lay between the rocks above the beach. Instead of weighing her down, the shawl of fur seemed to float on the wind behind her back and buoy up her steps.

When she found her mother she thought she was too late, that her mother had already frozen to death.

A fog was rolling in from the sea and as it touched her mother’s POTATO BREAD 55 skin it froze in a fine skein of 1 C flour ice so that her mother seemed 6 potatoes to be caught in a net strung out 1 egg 1 bunch of scallions of crystal beads. But then she 2 Tbsp of Irish butter noticed that her mother’s breath 1 C milk was crystallizing too and she 1 pinch of salt knew her mother was still alive.

She lay the fur over her mother AR ÁN PR ÁTA 55 and crawled in under it, wedging 1 C plúr herself between her mother and 6 prátaí the rocks. Instantly she felt her 1 ubh mother’s skin grow warm; the net 1 bunch scailliúin 2 Tbsp im hÉireann of ice melted and soaked into the 1 C bainne soft, heavy fur.

1 gráinnín salainn The mother and daughter slept together on the beach beneath the

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cloak of fur, but even as they slept, the girl could feel her mother’s fingers in her hair, stroking away her fear.

In the morning, when the selkie’s daughter awoke she was alone on the beach. She’d heard her mother’s voice in her sleep thanking her for returning her skin. “Now I can go back to the sea where I belong and where I have five selkie children, just as I have five human children on the land, whom you must watch over now. You mustn’t weep for me but instead, whenever you miss me, come stand at the water’s edge and listen for my voice in the surf. And on the first day of spring each year, and the last day of summer, you’ll see me as you know me now, a woman in a woman’s skin.”

The girl went back to her father’s house, determined to keep her promise to her mother even though every step she took away from the sea felt heavy, as if her feet were caught in a net that was dragging her out with the ebb tide. Even her hair, which had frozen in the night seemed to drag her down. But still she went home and lit the stove and made the porridge and when her brothers awoke she explained to them that although their mother was gone, she would take care of them now, and that twice a year she would take them to see their mother again.

It wasn’t until later, when she still felt the weight of ice in her hair, that she looked in the mirror and saw her mother’s parting gift. She remembered her mother’s hands stroking her hair through the night. Her mother–who couldn’t knit a stitch, or tat lace, or even tie a knot–had woven a wreath of sea foam frozen into bright stone: caught in its net, a single green tear the color of the sea.

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irish desserts & other stories

• IRISH CREAM BREAD PUDDING 14 C of ¾" cubed French bread 6 oz. bittersweet chocolate chips 6 oz. white chocolate chips 4 eggs ½ C & 4 Tbsp sugar 2 tsp vanilla 2 C heavy whipping cream ½ C milk

• HOW TO Combine bread cubes with white & dark chocolate chips.

Beat eggs, sugar, & vanilla.

Gradually add 1 ½ C whipping cream & whole milk.

Add mixture to bread, stir to combine.

Set aside, let mixture sit for 30 min.

Drizzle remaining ½ C of whipping cream over bread pudding mixture.

Sprinkle remaining 2 Tbsp of sugar.

Bake for 1 hour at 350 °F. Cool, drizzle with sauce, serve warm.

• IRISH CREAM SAUCE 2 C heavy whipping cream 6 Tbsp Bailey’s Irish Cream ¼ C granulated sugar ½ tsp vanilla extract 2 tsp cornstarch 2 tsp water

a relic from a time past

• MARÓG AR ÁN UACHTAR HÉIREANN 14 C de ¾" arán cubed Fraincis 6 oz. sceallóga seacláide milis agus searbh 6 oz. sceallóga seacláid bhán 4 uibheacha ½ C & 4 Tbsp siúcra 2 tsp vanilla 2 C uachtar whipping trom ½ C bainne

• CONAS A Chomhcheangail ciúbanna arán le sliseanna seacláide bán & dorcha.

Buille ubh, siúcra, & vanilla.

De réir a chéile a chur 1 ½ C whipping uachtar & bainne gan bhearradh.

Cuir meascán le arán, stir le chéile.

Leataobh ligean meascán suí 30 nóiméad.

Ceobhrán fágtha ½ C de whipping uachtar thar meascán maróg arán.

Sprinkle fágtha 2 Tbsp siúcra.

Bácáil feadh 1 uair an 350 °F. Fuarú, ceobhrán le anlann sheirbheáil te.

• ANLANN UACHTAR HÉIREANN 2 C uachtar whipping trom 6 Tbsp Uachtar hÉireann Bailey ¼ C siúcra gráinnithe ½ tsp sliocht vanilla 2 tsp cornstarch 2 tsp uisce

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the broken pearl

O

nce there was a great serpent who lay at the bottom of the ocean in the land of Tirra Glynn and in his mouth he held a pearl that was the soul of the world. But the king Connnachar desired the pearl for himself and he dived under the sea and stole if from the serpent. Before he could swim to the shore, though, the pearl shattered into a million pieces. All around him the water glowed white with the shards of the pearl and when he dragged himself onto the sand and looked back at the ocean he saw the glowing slivers in a path that led to the moon. He dipped his hands in the sea’s foam and tried to scoop

BROWN BREAD 4 C whole wheat flour 4 C white bakers flour 3 tsp salt 2 tsp baking soda 3–4 C cultured buttermilk

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AR ÁN DONN

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4 C plúr cruithneachta ar fad 4 C plúr bán báicéirí 3 tsp salann 2 tsp sóid aráin 3–4 C bláthach saothraithe

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irish cuisine & other stories

up the glittering sand but the pieces of the pearl slid through his fingers.

From that time on the selkies were banished from Tirra Glynn and cursed. We can never return to the sea. Our only means of escape is the drowned river that twice a year flows backward from the sea. But even if we can catch the current and shed our skins where the salt water becomes fresh, we’re still trapped in a skin not our own. We can shed a million skins and still not be ourselves.

As for the Connachar, the shattered pearl had soaked into his skin and formed a carapace around his heart, because that’s what happens when you long for one thing, and one thing only, and then you lose it.

When my mother told me the story about the selkie who leave her children to go back to the sea, I asked her if she ever came back.

“No, but someday the daughter will join her mother under the sea. That's why she wove for her the wreath out of sea foam and dew and her own tears. If the daughter throws the net of tears into the sea it will turn into a path of moonlight that leads back to the land under the sea–to Tirra Glynn.”

It wasn’t until I was older that my mother told me that the net of tears had been stolen from us.

Connachar had taken it to the Palace of the Stars and as long as he kept it there was no returning to the sea.

“You are old enough now to know,” she told me, “and old enough to take care of our brothers when I go.

Promise me you’ll take care of your brothers.” I promised her.

The next day my mother was gone. She slipped away like a breeze moves through a room, leaving

a relic from a time past

emptiness and silence. I knew that my job now, like the selkie’s daughter in the story, was to take care of my brothers, but instead thought of the net of tears that had been stolen from us and lay somewhere n the Palace of the Stars. So I disobeyed my mother’s last wish. I left my brothers to fend for themselves and I went as bondswoman to the Palace of the Stars.

It wasn’t long after I went to the Palace of the Stars that I saw the net of tears on that woman’s throat, the emerald tear hanging between her breasts.

It should not have made me angry. I was used to the carelessness of these women–the way they dropped their clothes where they stood, like a skin they had shed and had no more use for.

Their jewels they left in heaps too, earrings placed on bedside tables where a careless hand in the night brushed BANNOCK 56 them to the floor, diamond rings 2 C all-purpose flour resting in soap dishes and pearls 2 Tbsp white sugar draping the mirror frames. Let 1/2 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp baking soda them lose any one of these pre1/2 tsp salt cious baubles, though, and they 2 Tbsp butter 1 C buttermilk knew who to blame: the selkie 1/2 C dried currants women who cleaned their rooms.

The net of tears was just BANNOCK 56 another glittering bauble to her– 2 C plúr uile-críche something to match a new green 2 Tbsp siúcra bán gown, to draw the men’s eyes to 1/2 tsp púdar bácála 1/2 tsp sóid aráin her breast, and, at the end of the 1/2 tsp salann night, a handful of stones strewn 2 Tbsp im across her dressing table among 1 C bláthach 1/2 C cuiríní triomaithe coins and soiled handkerchiefs. I could have gathered it up in my

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dust cloth and stuck it in my pocket–the diamonds and pearls so lightly woven they weighed hardly more than a handful of sand. I should have taken it then and run–gone to the river and thrown the stones in the deepest water–but instead I told Naoise what I had seen. And Naoise began to plan.

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irish desserts & other stories

• WHITE AND DARK CHOCOLATE BREAD PUDDING 14 C French bread 6 oz. bittersweet chocolate 6 oz. white chocolate 4 eggs ½ C 4 tsp sugar 2 tsp vanilla 2 C whipping cream ½ C milk

• HOW TO Combine bread & chocolates.

Toss to blend.

Beat eggs, sugar, vanilla in bowl.

Beat in cream and milk.

Add together, stir to combine.

Let stand 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Drizzle ½ C cream.

Sprinkle 2 Tbsp sugar.

Bake pudding about 1 hour.

Cool pudding slightly.

Drizzle Irish Cream Sauce.

• IRISH CREAM SAUCE 2 C whipping cream 6 Tbsp Irish cream liqueur ¼ C sugar ½ tsp vanilla 2 tsp cornstarch 2 tsp water

a relic from a time past

• MARÓG AR ÁN BÁN AGUS DORCHA SEACLÁIDE 14 C arán Fraincis 6 oz. seacláide milis agus searbh 6 oz. seacláid bhán 4 uibheacha ½ siúcra 2 tsp vanilla 2 C whipping uachtar ½ C bainne

• CONAS A Chomhcheangail arán & seacláidí.

Toss a chumasc.

Beat uibheacha, siúcra, quiet i mbabhla.

Beat uachtar agus bainne i.

Cuir le chéile, stir le chéile.

Lig seasamh 30 nóiméad.

Preheat oigheann go 350 °F. Ceobhrán ½ C uachtar.

Sprinkle 2 Tbsp siúcra.

Bhácáil maróg thart ar 1 uair an chloig.

Maróg Cool beagán.

Ceobhrán Anlann uachtar na hÉireann.

• ANLANN UACHTAR NA HÉIREANN 2 C whipping uachtar 6 Tbsp Uachtar licéar na hÉireann ¼ C siúcra ½ tsp vanilla 2 tsp cornstarch 2 tsp uisce

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the net of tears

I

owed it to Naoise to help him steal the net of tears.

It was my fault he’d been changed into what he was. I could have stopped it. When a man is cast under the enchantment, a selkie can save him. All she has to do is shed her skin and throw it over him. But once she’s done this she can never make the trip up the drowned river, never escape her own imprisonment.

These are the rules the enchantment holds us to. These are our choices: to be one thing or another. When Naoise and his brothers started to change I could have helped them. One by one I watched as they were transformed into speechless beasts–lost to me OAT SODA BREAD 1/4 stick butter 2 C rolled oats 2 1/4 C all-purpose flour 1 3/4 tsp baking soda 1 1/4 tsp sea salt 1 3/4 C buttermilk 1 C mixed seeds

56

AR ÁN COIRCE SODA 56 1/4 im bata 2 C coirce rollta 2 1/4 C plúr uile-críche 1 3/4 tsp sóid aráin 1 1/4 tsp farraige salann 1 3/4 C bláthach 1 C síolta measctha

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forever–and did nothing. I chose my freedom over theirs. Now Naoise was the last. I saw the signs, the stoop in his back the wings had begun to grow, the hard black glitter in his eyes replacing what was once human. He believed the net of tears would save us all.

How could I say no?

By the time I decided to help Naoise steal the net of tears it was back in the hands of Connachar.

“But how can we get it from Connacher?” I asked Naoise. “He’s not as careless as the woman.”

“He’s careless in different ways,” Naoise told me.

“He’s careless in how he looks at you.”

Naoise turned away from me as he said this, pretending to check the corridor for listeners, but I knew it was because he was ashamed to look at me. I tried to harden my heart against him, but with his back to me I could see the wings forming under his shoulders blades, the skin straining over the new bone, the bone pushing to break free. Naoise would turn into one of the winged creatures soon and then there’d be no saving him.

“And that’s how you want me to get the net of tears from him?” I asked him, giving him one more chance to take it back. But when Naoise turned to me I saw in his eyes that the animal growing inside him had already taken over. He touched his finger to my breastbone, his nail digging like a talon at my skin. Beneath the bone I felt the flutter of gills, the animal I had been calling to, the animal he would become.

“He won’t be able to resist seeing you wear it,” he said. “It’s you it’s made for.”

I could say that what I did was for Naoise, or that I did it for my people, but that would be a lie. That

a relic from a time past

watery stirring beneath my skin awakened something in me. At first I thought it was the net of tears I longed for. I knew it would look better on me than on the Connachar woman–that it was made for me. In my dreams I felt the pearls and diamonds against my skin like the coolness of dew, the spray of the ocean. I imagined the weight of the emerald against my breastbone and the absence of it began to feel like an ache– like all the things I had already lost. I burned at night and awoke from these dreams, parched and gasping for air. Only the coolness of those stones could douse this fire. And then I began to dream of his hands laying the stones upon me and I knew it was the hands I longed for as much as the stones.

The first time he put the jewels on me he placed them around my neck. I knew that wasn’t how they were meant SIX-SEED SODA BREAD 57 to be worn, but I saw the way his 2 1/2 Tbsp sunflower, pumpkin, eyes glowed at the sight of me and sesame,poppy, & flax seeds when I looked at myself in the 1 tsp fennel seeds 1 3/4 C flour mirror I liked how the pearls en2 C all-purpose flour circled my throat and the green 2 tsp baking soda 1 tsp sea salt teardrop trembled with my breath.

1 3/4 C buttermilk “Look how it matches your eyes,” he said, standing behind SÉ-SÍL AR ÁN SODA 57 me as I sat before the mirror, “as 2 1/2 Tbsp lus na gréine, puimcín, thought it were made for you.” sesame, poipín, & lín síolta And his hands circled my throat, 1 tsp síolta finéal 1 3/4 C plúr pressing lightly, but I could feel 2 C plúr uile-críche the strength in them. The pearls 2 tsp sóid aráin and diamonds shook as if afraid 1 tsp farraige salann 1 3/4 C bláthach for me. I closed my eyes and heard the roar of the ocean.

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I thought of the mother who wove this as her parting gift to her daughter. I thought of my mother who went too quickly to think of leave-taking present, leaving only burdens.

I forced my eyes open. My throat was bare but I could see a ring of glistening moisture where the stones had lain–a remnant of the dew and ocean from whence they came–and I could see, in the mirror’s reflection, Connachar returning the crown to its hiding place.

When I told Naoise where the net of tears was kept he promised that he would take them to the place where the salt water turns to fresh and rope them into the river so that the net would spread a path of pearls that will lead us back to the sea. The spell would be broken and the net of Connachar’s power would dissolve.

I first realized that something had gone wrong when I heard that not just the net of tears but all the jewels that the woman in the green dress had worn were gone. Naoise had said nothing about taking those.

I waited and waited but nothing changed. The selkies were still enslaved within their skins, our men still bowed under the weight of their wings. Connachar still called me to his rooms each night only now instead of laying the jewels around my neck he laid his bare hangs on my skin and looked into my eyes as if he would scour the truth out of me. One night he told me that Naoise had been caught and sent to the prison at the bend in the river. He watched my eyes, while he told me what had been done to him, how his wings had been severed from his body.

a relic from a time past

“And the jewels,” I asked, forcing my voice to be cold, “were they recovered?”

“All but the necklace with the green stone. The one you used to wear. But don’t worry, my men will find it and when they do you’ll wear it again.”

Where the river turns from salt to fresh the selkie shed her skin. It is here that the conqueror has his prison. Our men are here–fathers, sons, brothers, sweethearts–behind the high walls. The river runs beneath the stone walls and it’s possible to slip between the bars and swim to the pool of tears where the men come to see one last glimpse of their women. It’s dangerous, though, because the salt tide from the sea comes and goes here and if a selkie is caught inside the prison when the tide flows back she will drown.

I took the chance to see Naoise one last time.

SIMPLE SODA BREAD He was waiting by the pool, 3 2/3 C all-purpose flour bent over the water, so that when 1 tsp kosher salt I surfaced I came through his 1 tsp baking soda 1 1/2 C buttermilk reflection. For a moment he must have thought he was still looking at himself, then he smiled, and then he frowned.

“You shouldn’t have come here, AR ÁN SODA SIMPLÍ Deidre, it’s not safe.”

3 2/3 C plúr uile-críche “When did you ever care about 1 tsp salann kosher safe,” I said, laughing at him, but 1 tsp sóid aráin 1 1/2 C bláthach then, seeing how his back bowed over as if by some unbearable weight I relented and held his hand. “You didn’t think about

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safe when you stole Connachar’s jewels.”

“Shh.” He touched a finger to his lips and looked behind him into the shadows. When he turned I saw the scars between his shoulder blades where the knife had severed his wings.

“I did it for us–to release us from this prison–besides, they weren’t his to begin with. He stole them from others.”

I sighed and was frightened to hear the sound echo off the walls of the dungeon. It multiplied, as if the walls had absorbed all the sadness they had ever seen and were sighing back. But then I saw the other forms in the water–my sisters–come to see their men one last time, and I realized the sighs come from them.

“A lot of good it did. He has his jewels and you are here.”

He bent all the way down to the water then, as if to press his lips to the river and drink, but instead he whispered in my ear.

“Not all. I saved the best. The net of tears–the net that must be broken to free us. I hid it . . .”

But as he spoke I felt a tug at my legs and a chill, like ice, moving through the water. The tide was retreating. If I didn’t leave now I would be trapped here.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, to stay here with Naoise, better than living on dry land without him. I felt the river coaxing me to stay . . . to drown.

“Go,” Naoise said, “you must go,” and he leaned forward and pushed me away, whispering one last word in my ear. I could see through the water his back turned to me. I could see the long scars where his wings had been and, frightened, I kicked off from the slimy rock and dived deep. My tears drowned in the river, their

a relic from a time past

salt flowing back to the sea. I didn’t care then if I ever found the grate and made it out into the light and onto land. I went deeper and deeper until my hands scarped something hard–the bars–and then other hands were pulling me through.

I opened my eyes and what I saw, there beneath the river, frightened me. My sisters, the selkies, were struggling in the ebb tide; long blue tentacles of salt water pulling at them, flaying their skin. I watched as the skin of one selkie was shredded into long strips and something white and raw kicked free and swam upstream. But another one was ripped in half by the struggle and her poor mutilated body sank to the bottom of the river.

I didn’t have the leisure, though, to pity my sister, because soon I was caught in the same struggle. No one had told IRISH WHISKEY BREAD me it would feel like this–to shed 1 C raisins one’s skin. And worse than the 1 C Irish whiskey sharp salt fingers digging into my 1 C all-purpose flour 1 C whole wheat flour skin was the awful cold of the 1 tsp baking soda freshwater river waiting to claim ¾ tsp salt 4 Tbsp butter me. A cold born of the glaciers ¾ C buttermilk to the north. It would be better, I thought, to die here and be eaten AR ÁN FUISCE GAEILGE by fish, than to lay in that cold.

1 C rísíní And as I saw others around me 1 C fuisce Gaeilge sink to the bottom I knew they 1 C plúr uile-críche 1 C plúr cruithneachta ar fad had given in to that wish.

1 tsp sóid aráin But then I remembered what 3/4 tsp salann Naoise had told me at the end. He 4 Tbsp im 3/4 C bláthach had told me where to find the net of tears. How could I take that

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knowledge to the bottom of the river?

So I struggled against the tide and kicked free into the ice cold water and blinding sunlight. I barely had strength left to crawl up onto the riverbank. Naked.

Alone. My sister–the few who had survived–had come up on the opposite riverbank. I was alone in a world of mud and ice and for a long time I lay there wishing I had died beneath the river.

I lay in the mud a long time, staring up at the cliffs rising above. When I’d come up the river a mist had lain on the water but now that mist had risen and traveled up into the mountains. The hills closest to me were green and covered with dense forest. The next layer of mountains was blue but I knew they too were covered with the never-ending trees that stood like sentinels guarding the river. Above the blue was a layer of pearl, like a silk slip dropped over a rumpled bed.

Something white glinted in its folds–like a diamond earring caught on the cloth–and that’s what finally drew me to my feet–to see what it was.

My legs felt like two knives thrust into my hip sockets; the mud sucked at my feet. I had shed my skin but still felt trapped in a body not my own. But I stood there trying to tread the horizon until the colors began to change in the distance. What I thought at first were clouds were more mountains. They went on forever!

How many steps would I have to take on this dry land before the river would take me back? What I thought at first was a diamond earring–and then a mirage–was a white palace, its columns rising from the sea of trees like a ship cresting the waves. That’s where I had to go. The Palace of Two Moons. That’s where Naoise had hidden the net of tears.

a relic from a time past

43

And so I took one step, and then another, towards the Palace of Two Moons, every step burning the soles of my feet–the skin there new and raw–so unsteady on my new legs I had to touch the tree trunks on either side of me for balance. At first the trees frightened me, they seemed to close in around me, closer with every step I took into the forest–but then I could hear them whispering to me. Their shade cooled me, their pollen drifted down over me and clothed my nakedness.

Looking up at the sunlight slanting down between their boughs was like being at the bottom of the ocean looking up toward the stars. The wind that moved their branches was like the currents we follow at ebb tide.

I saw why Naoise thought he had come home. This forest was like the sea beneath our Tirra Glynn, where we lived OATMEAL SODA BREAD before the serpent’s pearl was 4 C all-purpose flour broken into a million shards. I 1/3 C old fashioned oats remembered then what had hap2 Tbsp sugar 1 tsp baking soda pened to Connachar, how the sliv4 Tbsp butter ers of pearl had worked their way 1 ½ tsp salt 1 ¾ C buttermilk beneath his skin and gathered 1 egg around his heart. Looking down I saw the green silt breeding on my AR ÁN SODA MIN CHOIRCE skin, spinning itself into silk.

4 C plúr uile-críche By the time I walked out of 1/3 C coirce aimseartha d’aois the woods I was clothed in an em2 Tbsp siúcra 1 tsp sóid aráin erald gown, light as the wind that 4 Tbsp im moves through the trees, green as 1 1/2 tsp salann the sea.

1 3/4 C bláthach 1 ubh

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irish irishcuisine sauces & other stories

44

irish bread pudding sauces CARAMEL-WHISKEY SAUCE

INGREDIENTS

1. Combine sugar & water in saucepan.

1 1/2 C sugar

2. Cook mixture until sugar dissolves, stirring constantly.

2/3 C water

3. Cook an additional 15 min or until golden (do not stir).

4. Remove from heat.

5. Add butter & cream cheese, stirring constantly with whise (will bubble).

6. Cool slightly, stir in whiskey & milk.

IRISH CREAM SAUCE 1. Bring cream, liqueur, sugar, & vanilla to boil in a saucepan.

2. Stir frequently.

3. Mix cornstarch and 2 tsp water in a separate small bowl.

4. Whisk (Step 3) into cream mixture.

5. Boil until the sauce thickens.

6. Cool, cover, & refrigerate, 2 hours.

1/4 C butter

1/4 C cream cheese

1/4 C whiskey

1/4 C milk

INGREDIENTS

2 C whipping cream 6 Tbsp Irish cream liqueur 1/4 C sugar 2 tsp cornstarch 1/2 tsp vanilla 1/2 tsp water

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irish desserts & other stories

• IRISH LIQUEUR BREAD & BUTTER PUDDING RECIPE 2 oz. butter 10 slices white bread 2 oz. raisins 1 tsp nutmeg 12 oz. milk 2 oz. heavy cream 2 eggs 1 oz. sugar 1 tsp vanilla 6 Tbsp Baileys liqueur

• HOW TO Preheat the oven 355 F Grease pie dish with butter.

Spread butter on bread.

Cover pie dish with bread, butter side up.

Sprinkle ½ raisins over bread.

Sprinkle nutmeg.

Repeat until dish is fi lled.

Sprinkle remaining raisins on top.

Heat milk cream.

Beat eggs, ¾ sugar, vanilla, & liqueur.

Pour milk over eggs, continue beating.

Pour all egg mixture over bread.

•

Push the bread into the liquid.

Sprinkle sugar over surface.

Let sit for 30 mins.

Bake 40–45 mins at 355°F.

a relic from a time past

• LICÉAR AR ÁN NA HÉIREANN & OIDEAS MARÓG IME 2 oz. im 10 slices arán bán 2 oz. rísíní 1 tsp nutmeg 12 oz. bainne 2 oz. uachtar trom 2 eggs uibheacha 1 oz. siúcra 1 tsp vanilla 6 Tbsp Baileys licéar

• CONAS A Preheat the oven 355 F Grease pie dish with butter.

Spread butter on bread.

Cover pie dish with bread, butter side up.

Sprinkle ½ raisins over bread.

Sprinkle nutmeg.

Repeat until dish is fi lled.

Sprinkle remaining raisins on top.

Heat milk cream.

Beat eggs, ¾ sugar, vanilla, & liqueur.

Pour milk over eggs, continue beating.

Pour all egg mixture over bread.

•

Push the bread into the liquid.

Sprinkle sugar over surface.

Let sit for 30 mins.

Bake 40–45 mins at 355°F.

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a relic from a time past

47

tam lin

T

his was a story my gran told me. She was always saying that if we were bad, if we didn’t mind the nuns at school or learn our catechism, the fairies would come and take us away. She said the fairies were fallen angels who weren’t bad enough to be devils but not good enough to stay angels. They liked to steal children so they wouldn’t be lonely, but they could only take you if you’d done something bad.

I thought hat must have been what happened to my brother Sean who’d died when he was four and I was two but when I asked Ma what Sean had done to be taken she slapped me. It was the only time she ever hit SPOTTED DOG BREAD

3 2⁄3 C all-purpose flour 1 tsp baking soda 1 tsp salt 1 Tbsp granulated sugar 2⁄3 C raisins 1 egg 1 2⁄3 C buttermilk

60

CHONAIC AR ÁN MADR AÍ 60 3 2/3 C plúr uile-críche 1 tsp sóid aráin 1 tsp salann 1 Tbsp siúcra gránaithe 2/3 C rísíní 1 ubh 1 2/3 C bláthach

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me. Now Dad . . . but that’s another story.

Anyway. My gran still told these stories about being stolen by the fairies and one was about a boy named Tam Lin. My gran said this Tam Lin was a good boy mostly except he didn’t always mind his parents or the nuns at school and sometimes went out exploring in the woods when he should’ve been at school. One day he was out in the woods hunting and he got so tired that he laid himself down under a tree and fell to sleep.

I liked to imagine that part. Falling asleep under a tree. I liked to go into Inwood Park, way back where nobody went. A park ranger once told me that the trees in Inwood Park are the only trees on Manhattan Island that have never been cut. A virgin forest he called it, which seemed kind of funny for a city park where people did all sorts of things that weren’t exactly virgin like. Anyway. I always thought it would be an adventure to stay all night in the park, but I’d been afraid to fall asleep there.

This Tam Lin fellow, though, one day he was in the woods and he found this old well. He was thirsty so he drank from the well and then he fell asleep. When he woke up he was surrounded by fairies. The queen of the fairies was this old lady who was beautiful but kind of scary looking because her hair was white and she was dressed all in green. She told Tam Lin that the well belonged to fairies and because he had drunk from it he belonged to the fairies now. She aid he should be happy because now he’d get to live forever like the fairies. She gave him a white horse and a green suit (because that what fairies wear) and made him go with her.

a relic from a time past

But these fairies had to pay a price for getting to live forever. Every seven years, on Halloween, they had to sacrifice a human being. On the next Halloween, Tam Lin was out riding with the fairies and they passed the well where he’d fallen asleep. He was surprised because he hadn’t seen it since he was kidnapped by the fairies and he knew that he was back in the mortal world. He was just thinking that he’d make a break for it and head for home when one of the other riders got the same idea and broke from the pack. Right away all the fairies fell on the boy in a heap and when they were done all that was left was a pile of bones picked clean.

So you can bet Tam Lin was pretty scared and decided not to try getting away until he had a plan. Four more Halloweens went by and Tam Lin wouldn’t think of anyWHEATEN BREAD thing. He saw that the fairy queen 1 C all-purpose flour was getting tired of him and he 2 Tbsp sugar 1 packet yeast knew he’d be the next to go if he 1/2 tsp baking soda didn’t come up with something.

1 C buttermilk Then, on the sixth Halloween, he 1/4 C water 3 Tbsp butter kind of straggled behind the other 2 C whole wheat flour riders and when he passed the well he saw a girl standing there.

AR ÁN CRUITHNEACHTA She looked like she’d just seen a 1 C plúr uile-críche ghost, which you could say she 2 Tbsp siúcra had. A whole troop of them.

1 giosta data 1/2 tsp sóid aráin Tam Lin got off his horse and 1 C bláthach went over to the girl. On his way 1/4 C uisce he saw a rose and picked it for 3 Tbsp im 2 C plúr cruithneachta ar fad her–figuring she’d be less afraid if he gave her a present. He pricked

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his finger on the thorns, though, and cried out. He was pretty embarrassed that the girl saw him hurt himself, but then she got our her handkerchief and wrapped it around Tam Lin’s hand and made a fuss over him. You see, that’s how she knew he wasn’t really a fairy. Because he bled.

“Come with me,” the girl said, when she’d stopped his bleeding.

But Tam Lin heard the fairy horses returning and knew the fairy queen would kill both of them.

“I can’t,” he told her, “but if you come back here next Halloween maybe you can save me.” Then he told her to bring holy water from the church and dirt from her garden. “When you see me ride past you must pull me from my horse and hold me tight no matter what happens. Then I’ll be free of the fairies and we can get married. But if you don’t save me, the fairies will kill me because it’ll be seven years I’ve been with them.”

The girl looked doubtful, but she said she’d wait for Tam Lin and be at the well next Halloween and then Tam Lin had to go.

The following Halloween, the girl–Margaret–was there at the well and when she saw Tam Lin she pulled him from his horse and held him so tight he half thought she’d choke him. The fairy queen was furious when she saw Tam Lin and the girl.

“Let him go,” she said, “and I’ll give you all the silver in the world.”

“No,” the girl said. “I’ll hold on to my Tam Lin.” “Oh,” says the fairy queen, “that’s Tam Lin you’re holding, is it?”

And when the girl looked she saw she was holding a huge snake–or was it holding her! Still she didn’t let go.

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The fairy queen was so mad then that she tore her white hair from her head and screamed, “I’ll teach you!” and she turned Tam Lin into a burning brand that singed the girl’s skin. Still she held on till she could smell her own skin burning. Then she took out the bottle of holy water she’d brought and sprinkled it in the well and she threw the burning brand in after and there, instead of the burning brand, was Tam Lin, naked, because the clothes had burned right off him.

So Margaret pulled him out of the well and gave him her cloak. She sprinkled the dirt from her garden in a circle around them and even though the fairy queen screamed and raged there wasn’t a thing she could do. Tam Lin and Margaret went back to her castle (she was a princess) and . . . well, you can imagine the rest.

IRISH WHISKEY BUTTER

61

9 Tbsp butter 3 tsp Irish whiskey 1 Tbsp sugar

IM FUISCE GAEILGE 61 9 Tbsp im 3 tsp fuisce Gaeilge 1 Tbsp siúcra

irish cuisine & other stories

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RECIPE INDEX

• Recipe #1–Brown Soda Bread • Recipe #2–Buttermilk Scones • Recipe #3–Barmbrack • Recipe #4–Freckled Bread • Recipe #5–Potato Bread • Recipe #6–Brown Bread • Recipe #7–Bannock 29 • Recipe #8–Oat Soda Bread 33 • Recipe #9–Six Seed Soda Bread 35 • Recipe #10–Simple Soda Bread 37 • Recipe #12–Irish Whiskey Soda Bread • Recipe #13–Oatmeal Soda Bread • Recipe #14–Spotted Dog Soda Bread • Recipe #15–Wheaten Bread • Recipe #16–Irish Whiskey Sauce

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recipe index • BROWN SODA BREAD

treoir oideas 17

• AR ÁN SODA BROWN

17

Preheat oven to 400 °F.

Oigheann teas réamh dtí 400 °F.

Mix dry ingredients in bowl.

Measc comhábhair tirim i mbabhla.

Stir in enough buttermilk until dough is fairly soft.

Corraigh i go leor bláthach go dtí go bhfuil taos taos bog go cothrom.

Knead lightly until smooth underneath.

Knead go héadrom go dtí thíos go réidh.

Form into a circle, 1 1/2" thick.

Foirm isteach i gciorcal, 1 1/2" tiubh.

Place on baking sheet.

Cuir ar bhileog bácáil.

Mark cross in top with floured knife.

Déan thrasnú barr le scian floured.

Bake 45 minutes.

Bake 45 nóiméad.

Fully cooked bread sounds hollow.

Fuaimeanna arán Críochnaithe log.

• BUTTER MILK SCONES

19

• BLÁTHACH SCÓNAÍ

19

Whisk flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, & salt in large bowl.

Whisk plúr, siúcra, púdar bácála, sóid aráin, & salann i mbabhla mór.

Work in butter with fingertips until mixture is crumbly.

Obair i im le fingertips dtí go bhfuil meascán crumbly.

Add buttermilk.

Cuir bláthach.

Stir until ingredients are moistened.

Corraigh dtí go comhábhair thaisrítear.

Knead about 8 times.

→

Knead thart ar 8 n-uaire.

→

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Divide dough in half.

Roinn taos i leath.

Pat dough into circles about 3/4" thick.

Pat taos i ciorcail thart ar 3/4" tiubh.

Cut each circle into 6 wedges.

Gearr gach ciorcal i 6 dingeacha.

Arrange wedges about 1/2" apart.

Socraigh dingeacha thart 1/2" óna chéile.

Combine cream, cinnamon, & remaining sugar.

Chomhcheangail uachtar, cainéal, & siúcra atá fágtha.

Stir until well blended.

Corraigh go dtí go maith chumasc.

Brush tops of wedges with mixture.

Bairr Scuab de dingeacha le meascán.

Bake 12–15 minutes at 425 °F.

Bake 12–15 nóiméad ag 425 °F.

• BAR MBR ACK

21

• BARMBR ACK

21

Soak fruit overnight in tea.

Soak torthaí thar oíche i tae.

Add sugar and egg to fruit mix.

Cuir siúcra agus ubh le meascán torthaí.

Sift in remaining dry ingredients.

Sift i fágtha comhábhair tirim.

Mix gently.

Measc go réidh.

Bake in 7" round baking tin at 350 °F for 80 minutes.

Bake i 7" stáin bácála bhabhta ag 350 °F ar feadh 80 nóiméad.

Cool on wire rack.

Fuaraigh ar raca sreang.

Serve with hot tea.

Freastal le tae te.

• FRECKLED BREAD

23

• AR ÁN BRICÍNEACH

23

Boil potato in water for 20–30 minutes.

Boil prátaí uisce feadh 20–30 nóiméad.

Reserve 1 C of water (120°–130°)

Cúlchiste 1 C d'uisce (120°–130°)

Let potato cool before mashing.

Lig prátaí fionnuar roimh mashing.

Pour 1 1/2 C flour in mixing bowl, add potato, yeast, sugar, & salt.

Doirt 1 1/2 C plúr i mbabhla mheascadh, cuir prátaí, giosta, siúcra, & salann.

Pour in 1 C of potato water.

Doirt i 1 C d'uisce prátaí.

Beat until batter is smooth.

Beat go dtí go bhfuil fuidreamh mín.

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55

Let dough rise: 1–1 1/2 hours.

Lig ardú taos: 1–1 1/2 uair an chloig.

Stir batter, add eggs, butter, & raisins.

Corraigh fuidrimh, ubh, im, & rísíní.

Stir to mix thoroughly.

Corraigh a mheascadh go maith.

Add flour, 1/2 C at a time, to make soft balls of dough.

Cuir plúr, 1/2 C ag an am, a dhéanamh liathróidí boga de taos.

Knead dough until it becomes smooth, 10 minutes.

Taos knead go dtí go mbeidh sé réidh, 10 nóiméad.

Divide into 4 pieces.

Roinn i 4 píosaí.

Let rise 5 minutes before shaping.

Lig ardú 5 nóiméad roimh a mhúnlú.

Roll each piece lengthwise into a cylinder, 2" in diameter.

Roll gach píosa bhfad isteach i sorcóir, 2" ar trastomhas.

Repeat with second piece, place 2 pieces side by side.

Déan leis an dara píosa, áit 2 píosaí taobh le taobh.

Let rise to edge of pans, 45 minutes.

Lig ardú ar imeall pannaí, 45 nóiméad.

Bake at 375 °F for 20 minutes.

Bhácáil ag 375 °F ar feadh 20 nóiméad.

Cool on wire rack.

Fuaraigh ar raca sreang.

• POTATO BREAD

25

• AR ÁN PR ÁTA

25

Peel, boil, and mash potatoes.

Craiceann, boil, agus braichlis prátaí.

Finely chop scallions, add to large bowl.

Gearrtha scailliúin, a chur le babhla.

Add in potatoes, 1/2 the flour & butter.

Cuir i prátaí, 1/2 an plúr & im.

Mix with wooden spoon.

Measc le spúnóg adhmaid.

Blend egg & milk together.

Cumaisc ubh agus bainne le chéile.

Add mixture to bind potatoes together.

Cuir seo le prátaí ceangal le chéile.

Add a pinch of salt to taste.

Cuir gráinnín salann chun blas.

Roll out mixture to about 1" thick.

Rolladh amach meascán thart 1" tiubh.

Cut out 10" circle of dough.

Gearr amach 10" ciorcal de taos.

Divide circle into 8 slices.

→

Roinn ciorcal i 8 slices.

→

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Place each slice on a hot pan for 3–4 minutes on each side.

Cuir gach slice ar uile te do 3–4 nóiméad ar gach taobh.

Serve hot with butter on top.

Freastal te le im ar an mbarr.

• BROWN BREAD

29

• AR ÁN DONN

29

Mix dry ingredients in bowl.

Measc comhábhair tirim i babhla.

Add buttermilk.

Cuir bláthach.

Work mixture until dough is soft.

Meascán Obair go dtí go bhfuil taos bog.

Knead dough into circular shape (3").

Taos knead i cruth ciorclach (3").

Bake for 20 minutes at 475 °F.

Bhácáil ar feadh 20 nóiméad ag 475 °F.

Bake for 20 minutes at 400 °F.

Bhácáil ar feadh 20 nóiméad ag 400 °F.

Fully cooked bread sounds hollow.

Fuaimeanna arán cócaráilte log.

• BANNOCK

31

• BANNOCK

30

Combine flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, & salt.

Chomhcheangail plúr, siúcra, sóid aráin, púdar bácála, & salann.

Cut butter into flour mixture.

Gearr im i meascán plúr.

Add buttermilk until dough is soft.

Cuir bláthach go dtí go bhfuil taos bog.

Stir in currants.

Corraigh i cuiríní.

Knead dough for 5 min., until smooth.

Taos knead feadh 5 nóim., dtí réidh.

Form dough into a 7" round.

Foirm taos isteach i 7 "bhabhta.

Cut 1/2" deep cross side to side.

Gearr 1/2" taobh tras domhain go taobh.

Score with cross 1/2" deep on the top.

Scór le tras 1/2"domhain ar an mbarr.

Bake in a preheated 375 °F for 40 min.

Bhácáil i 375 °F le haghaidh 40 nóim.

• OAT SODA BREAD Preheat oven to 400 °F.

35

• COIRCE AR ÁN SÓIDE Oigheann teas réamh dtí 400 °F.

35

a relic from a time past

57

Sift flours, baking soda, & salt into large bowl.

Plúir, sóid aráin, salann agus scagadh isteach i mbabhla mór.

Make a well in the flour and pour in the buttermilk.

Déan go maith i plúr agus doirt an bláthach.

Stir until everything becomes doughy.

Corraigh go dtí go mbeidh gach rud taos.

Knead for 30 seconds, until dough is slightly flattened ball.

Knead ar feadh 30 soicind, go dtí go bhfuil taos beagán leacaithe liathróid.

Ease the dough evenly into baking pan.

Maolú an taos go cothrom i pan bácáil.

Brush top and sides with buttermilk.

Barr Scuab agus taobh le bláthach.

Sprinkle with mixed seeds, 2 Tbsp.

Sprinkle le síolta measctha, 2 Tbsp.

Slice slashes across top of dough.

Slaiseanna Slice thar barr de taos.

Bake for 30 minutes.

Bhácáil ar feadh 30 nóiméad.

Move rack and bread up a level, bake for another 20 minutes.

Bog raca agus arán suas ar leibhéal, bhácáil do eile 20 nóiméad.

Cooked bread sounds hollow.

Fuaimeanna arán cócaráilte log.

Let cool on wire rack.

Lig fuarú ar raca sreang.

Serve with salted butter.

Freastal le im saillte.

• SIX SEED SODA BREAD

37

• SIX SEED SODA BREAD

37

Preheat oven to 400 °F.

Oigheann teas réamh dtí 400 °F.

Combine all the seeds in small bowl.

Chur le chéile gach síolta i mbabhla beag.

Sift flours, baking soda, & salt into a small bowl.

Plúir, sóid aráin, salann & scagadh isteach i mbabhla beag.

Stir in all but 2 Tbsp of seeds.

Corraigh i ngach ach 2 Tbsp de síolta.

Make well in flour, pour in the buttermilk, stir until the dough just comes together.

Déan go maith i plúr, Doirt an bláthach, stir go dtí go dtiocfaidh an taos díreach le chéile.

Knead lightly into a loose ball, 1 min.

Knead éadrom liathróid scaoilte, 1 nóim.

Mark dough with deep crosses across top, cutting 2/3 through the loaf. →

Marcáil taos le crosa domhain ar fud barr, gearradh 2/3 tríd an builín. →

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Brush with buttermilk.

Scuab le bláthach.

Sprinkle remaining seeds.

Scaip síolta fágtha.

• SIMPLE SODA BREAD

39

• AR ÁN SODA SIMPLÍ

Preheat oven to 425 °F.

Oigheann teas réamh dtí 425 °F.

Whisk together the flour, salt, and baking soda.

Whisk le chéile plúr, salann, aran sóid aráin.

Make well in center, pour in buttermilk.

Déan go maith i lár, doirt i bláthach.

Stir gently.

Corraigh go réidh.

Knead dough a few times.

Taos knead cúpla uair.

Form into an 8" circle.

Foirm isteach i gciorcal 8".

Cut a cross into top of dough.

Gearr tras i barr an taos.

Bake for 25–30 minutes.

Bhácáil do 25-30 nóiméad.

Cool on wire rack.

Fuaraigh ar raca sreang.

Serve with jam and butter.

Freastal le subh agus im.

• IRISH WHISKEY SODA BREAD 41

39

• AR ÁN SODA FUISCE GAEILGE

41

Preheat oven to 375 °F.

Oigheann teas réamh dtí 375 °F.

Combine raisins & whiskey in pan.

Chomhcheangail rísíní & fuisce i pan.

Place over heat, bring to a simmer.

Cuir breis teas, thabhairt a suanbhruith.

Once it reaches a simmer, remove from heat, cover, & steep for 1 hour.

Nuair a sroicheann suanbhruith, bhaint teas, chlúdach, & géar 1 uair an chloig.

When finished, drain raisins, reserve whiskey for butter.

Nuair a chríochnaigh, rísíní draein, uisce beatha cúltaca le haghaidh im.

Whisk flours, baking soda, & salt.

Whisk plúir, sóid aráin, & salann.

Blend butter into flour mixture until coarse crumbs are formed.

Cumaisc im i meascán plúr go dtí go blúiríní garbh atá déanta.

Stir in the whiskey-soaked raisins.

Corraigh i rísíní fuisce-soaked.

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59

Stir in the buttermilk until dry ingredients are moistened and dough comes together.

Corraigh sa bláthach go dtí go comhábhair tirim a thaisrítear agus a thagann taos le chéile.

Knead lightly until dough is smooth.

Knead go héadrom dtí bhfuil taos réidh.

Pat dough into a 6" circle.

Pat taos isteach i 6" ciorcal.

Score top of dough ½" deep.

Barr scór de taos ½" domhain.

Bake for 30 minutes.

Bhácáil ar feadh 30 nóiméad.

Cool on wire rack.

Fuaraigh ar raca sreang.

• OATMEAL SODA BREAD

43

• OATMEAL SODA BREAD

43

Preheat oven to 450 °F.

Oigheann teas Réamh dtí 450 °F.

Place oats in a food processor until finely ground.

Cuir coirce i próiseálaí bia go dtí talamh mín.

Whisk together oats, flour, baking soda, sugar, & salt.

Whisk le chéile coirce, plúr, sóid aráin, siúcra, & salann.

Stir buttermilk and egg together.

Corraigh bláthach agus ubh le chéile.

Make a well in the middle of the flour mixture, pour in buttermilk & eggs.

Déan go maith i lár an meascán plúr, Doirt i bláthach & uibheacha.

Gently fold surrounding flour over buttermilk with wooden spoon.

Go réidh huaire an plúr máguaird thar an bláthach le spúnóg adhmaid.

Continue to gently fold until just combined.

Leanúint ar aghaidh a fhilleadh go réidh go dtí le chéile go díreach.

Knead 1 or 2 times only, form into a mound shape.

Knead 1 nó 2 uair amháin, an fhoirm i gcruth dumha.

Score center of the dough in a cross shape, 11/2" deep cuts.

Scór lár an taos i cruth tras, 1 1/2" nuair a gearradh domhain.

Bake for 15 minutes at 450 °F

Bake ar feadh 15 nóiméad ag 450 °F

Bake for 25 minutes at 400 °F.

Bácáil ar feadh 25 nóiméad ag 400 °F.

If bread sounds hollow, it's done.

Má fuaimeanna sé log, tá sé déanta.

Let sit for 10 minutes.

→

Lig suí ar feadh 10 nóiméad.

→

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Remove bread from pan and cool on wire rack for 15 minutes.

Bain arán ó uile agus lig cool breise ar raca sreang ar feadh 15 nóiméad.

Serve with jam & butter.

Freastal le subh & im.

• SPOTTED DOG BREAD

47

• CHONAIC AR ÁN MADR A

47

Preheat oven to 425 °F

Oigheann teas réamh dtí 425 °F

Sift flour, baking soda, & salt into a large bowl.

Sift plúr, sóid aráin, salann agus isteach i mbabhla mór.

Stir in sugar & dried fruit.

Corraigh i siúcra & torthaí triomaithe.

Beat together egg & buttermilk.

Beat le chéile ubh agus bláthach.

Make a well in the center of dry ingredients, pour in most of the buttermilk mixture.

Déan go maith i lár tirim comhábhair, Doirt sa chuid is mó de na meascán bláthach.

Hand mix all ingredients, dough should be soft, but not too wet & sticky.

Hand meascán chóir comhábhair léir, taos bheith bog, ach ní ró-fliuch & bata.

Pat dough into a round, 2 ½" high.

Pat taos i babhta, 2 ½" ard.

Cut a deep cross in it.

Gearr tras domhain i sé.

Bake for 10 minutes.

Bhácáil ar feadh 10 nóiméad.

Decrease temperature to 400 °F bake for another 30–35 minutes.

Teocht laghdú go 400 °F bhácáil do eile 30–35 nóiméad.

Cooked bread sounds hallow.

Fuaimeanna arán cócaráilte hallow.

Cool on a wire rack.

Fuarú ar raca sreang.

• WHEATEN BREAD

49

• CRUITHNEACHTA AR ÁN

49

Combine all-purpose flour, sugar, undissolved yeast, salt, & baking soda.

Chomhcheangail plúr uile-críche sin, siúcra, giosta, salann, & sóid aráin.

Heat buttermilk, water, & butter until warm (120–130 °F); will curdle.

Teaas buttermilk, uisce, & im go dtí go te (120–130 °F); beidh meascán curdle.

Stir liquids into dry ingredients.

Leachtanna stir comhábhair tirim.

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61

Stir in enough whole wheat flour to make stiff dough.

Corraigh i go leor plúr cruithneachta ar fad a dhéanamh taos righin.

Form into smooth 5" ball.

Foirm isteach go réidh 5" liathróid.

Place in pan, cover, let rise until dough doubles in size, 30–60 minutes.

Áit i pan, a chlúdach, lig ardú go dtí go doubles taos i méid, 30–60 nóiméad.

Make a "X" (1/2" deep) on top of dough.

Déan "X" (1/2"domhain) ar bharr an taos.

Bake at 375°F for 35–40 minutes.

Bake ag 375 °F le 35–40 nóiméad.

Remove from pan; cool on wire rack.

Bain as uile; fuarú ar raca sreang.

• IRISH WHISKEY BUTTER

51

• IRISH WHISKEY BUTTER

51

Combine raisins & whiskey in pan.

Chomhcheangail rísíní & fuisce i uile.

Place over heat & bring to simmer.

Cuir breis teas & thabhairt suanbhruith.

Once it reaches a simmer, remove from heat, cover, and steep for at 1 hour.

Nuair sroicheann sé suanbhruith, bhaint teas, chlúdach, & géar feadh 1 chloig.

Drain raisins & reserve the whiskey to use in the whiskey butter.

Drain rísíní agus cúlchiste an fuisce a úsáid sa im fuisce.

Microwave whiskey & sugar for 20 sec.

Fuisce micreathonn & siúcra 20 soic.

Cool to room temperature.

Fuaraigh dtí teocht an tseomra.

Place softened butter in bowl, beat in whiskey mixture a little at a time, until completely incorporated.

Áit softened im i mbabhla, buille i meascán fuisce beag ag an am, go dtí go ionchorpraithe go hiomlán.

Store in the refrigerator.

Stóráil sa chuisneoir.

62

irish cuisine & other stories

a relic from a time past

credits recipes & preface compiled from:

Allen, Rachel. “Spotted Dog Soda Bread.” Parade.

“Authentic Irish Soda Bread.” Food: Home of the Home Cook.

Edwards, Bridget. “Simple Irish Soda Bread.” Bake at 350.

“History of Irish Soda Bread.” Abigail's Bakery.

“Irish Bannock.” Allrecipes.com.

“Irish Whiskey Soda Bread with Irish Whiskey Butter.” Brown Eyed Baker.

Lemm, Elaine. “Irish Liqueur Bread and Butter Pudding Recipe.” About.com: British & Irish Food.

Mairead. “Irishisms.” Irish American Mom. Ruth & Gary. “The Mysterious Selkie.” Celtic Myth Podshow News.

Shannon. “Irish Cream Bread Pudding.” The Curvy Carrot.

Swanson, Heidi. “Oat Soda Bread Recipe.” 101 Cookbooks: A Recipe Journal.

Warner, Cathy. “Traditional Irish Breads.” Bread Experience.

Weber, Jenna. “Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with Irish Oatmeal Soda Bread.” PBS.

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ABOUT THE TYPE The main text of this book was set in Minion. Designed by Robert Slimbach in 1990 for Adobe Systems, Minion's comfortable, practical readability has made it a constant choice for both print and on screen display. It was inspired by classical, old style typefaces of the late Renaissance: a period of elegant, beautiful, and highly readable type designs. The version in this book, Minion Pro, is an updated design of this typeface.

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