The days of summer are coming to a close, but I am still clinging on…here’s to a few more ice cream dreams.

I first sampled brown bread ice cream at Murphy’s Ice Cream Cafe in Dingle, Co. Kerry. It was 2005 and I was pregnant. As far as I was concerned, it was the next best thing to apple pie. 2 years later, I had it again and truth be told, it’s delicious, bold flavour stood the test of time (and pregnancy taste buds too)

Making ice cream in Ireland goes back to the early 20th Century, when Irish farming families such as ours discovered that by mixing eggs with sugar and cream and popping it into their newly discovered “deep freeze” overnight, you could create a delightful dessert that used ingredients that were always at hand. Over the past few years, R and I have pondered the idea of producing artisan ice cream on the farm as we are both are lovers of this frozen dairy delight, but, alas, there are only so many hours in the day and so many projects we can take on (still, we never say never!)

I discovered this recipe for Brown Bread & Irish Whiskey Ice Cream in Clare Connery’s lovely book, Irish Food & Folklore. I love that the brown bread is carmelised and crunchy which gives it a nice texture (and, of course, the whiskey gives it a kick). After doing further research, I found that there are other popular variations including the classic Brown Bread & Guinness (Murphy’s Ice Cream does an amazing one) and Brown Bread & Bailey’s Irish Cream, both of which are absolutely heavenly.

This very creamy home-made ice cream is remarkably easy to make and tastes better than any scoop of Häagen-Dazs I’ve ever had so go on, give it a try. If you’d like, you can swap out the whiskey for Guinness or Bailey’s for something a little different.

Brown Bread & Irish Whiskey Ice Cream

Preheat over to 240 C/475 F

Prep time: 30 mins. Cooking time: 10 mins. for crumbs

175 g/6 oz day old brown bread crumbs (not soda or wheaten)

125 g/4 oz demerra (brown) sugar

3 eggs

65 g/2.5 oz caster sugar (fine sugar)

75 ml/3 fl oz Irish Whiskey

450 ml/3/4 pint double cream

Fresh mint leaves to decorate

Combine bread crumbs and demerra sugar in a mixing bowl. Spread over a large roasting tray and bake in preheated oven until the sugar has carmelised, usually 10 minutes. Allow to cool completely.

Whisk the eggs and caster sugar together until very thick ( you can use an electric mixer) and pale cream in colour. Fold the carmelised bread crumbs into the eggs followed by the whiskey and double cream, whisking until it holds it’s shape. Pour into a rigid container (stainless steel works well) and freeze overnight.

Cook’s notes: Irish wheaten or soda bread is not suitable for this ice cream as it makes it rather heavy and unappetising. However, any type of brown wholemeal or granary bread is excellent. Freezing is done in the deep freeze and no stirring or churning is required. An ice cream maker is not needed.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

Slan Abhaile

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell. Assisted by Master Geoffrey McDonnell

Tags: brown bread, cream, farm, Farming, food, foodie, Haagen Daz, Ice Cream, ireland, Irish, Irish Whiskey, Murphy's Ice Cream

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter. “You’ve had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?” But answer came there none- And that was scarcely odd, because They’d eaten every one.’  -Lewis Carroll, The Walrus and the Carpenter.

The first time I had an oyster I wanted to try out the “aphrodisiac” quality. Not sure it worked on me, though I must say I did find the flavour and sense of gastronomic adventure very desirable. The native Irish oyster “Ostrea Edulis” can be found throughout the coastal regions of Ireland and would be considered traditional seafood fare dating back to the 13th Century. The best way to enjoy the full flavour of oysters is to eat them raw, served on the half shell to hold their succulent juices. Fresh lemon juice or a drop of Tabasco sauce are often used as condiments and a cold pint of Guinness served on the side makes for a wonderful Summer supper.

Oyster culture is probably one of the most environmentally friendly types of farming as it doesn’t require any entrants to be added from the exterior (neither feed nor medication). It has also an extremely low and often negative carbon footprint. Oysters feed themselves on elements which are naturally found in the seas where they grow. The oyster farmer’s task is to simply accompany the natural growth of oysters by managing stocking densities and thereby naturally influencing shell shape and growth rates.  Irish oysters are coveted and are exported to a huge demand in France as well as the UK, Belgium, Germany and more distant markets such as the Ukraine, China and Japan.

The Galway International Oyster Festival takes place each September and has evolved from very modest beginnings. In September 1954, 34 guests attended the very first “Oyster Festival Banquet”. Now, thousands of people from around the world gather together to eat oysters and drink Guinness each year. The festival takes place this year the 22-26th of September and promises to be filled with loads of fun and frolic.

Perhaps we shall see you there?

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell. Assisted by Master Geoffrey McDonnell.

Tags: Farming, food, foodie, Galway Oyster Festival, Guinness, ireland, irish farmer, oyster farming, Oysters

I know, right? And yes, it tastes as divine as it looks…especially right out of the oven. Mmmmm.

Last week I was graciously given an old Irish cookery and home economics book that was used here in Ireland during the 1940’s and 50’s.  It is called “All in the Cooking, the Colaiste Mhuire book of Household Cookery”. Steeped in tradition and an absolute true gem to add to my cookbook collection, I had been pouring over it’s pages for days looking for the perfect first recipe to feature on my blog.  There are so many fascinating and historical recipes to choose from; from sweet puddings to savory sauces, a muriad of potato preparations to special “invalid cookery” dishes and the list goes on. But when I came upon the gorgeous and aptly titled, “Queen of Puddings” recipe, in all it’s glory….marked up and checked off as if it had been made a dozen times, I instantly {and giddily} decided that this would be the one.

Using meringue in Irish desserts was very common years ago as eggs were easier to come by than other more elaborate ingredients at the time. The same could be said for using jam and other conserves for sweet treats as well. Whatever the reason, this bread-ish pudding is utterly delicious.

I did a little research to see how many of my Irish friends had ever tried this and recieved a smattering of responses, a few who never had and many whom it brought back the fondest childhood memories. One of which, Tom Doorley, former Irish Times food writer and current Irish Daily Mail food columnist, commented via Twitter that this was a favourite of his when he was growing up, his mother had mostly used orange zest, but he prefers the lemon as prescribed in the forthcoming recipe.

Sweet, but also very light in flavour and texture…the perfect dessert to end a lovely Sunday family lunch or to accompany as part of a girly afternoon tea party or picnic.

I have provided the original recipe and also an updated version with oven temps and ml measurements.

Enjoy.

Tags: baking, farm to table, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, ireland, irish foodie, married, Odlums, picnic, queen of puddings, tea party, tom doorley, traditional irish cooking

I’ll never forget the first time I visited the farm and met my future Irish family. R and I had planned a spectacular trip to the Amalfi Coast and decided it would be perfect to meet everyone before we took off on our holiday. I would fly into Ireland first and we would head to Italy from here.

After the grand introductions and formal-ish conversation in the sitting room, I was politely asked if I would like a bite to eat, and despite the fact that I was completely famished, I eloquently replied, “Sure, just a little something would be nice, thank you”.  We made our way into the kitchen where Peggy presented me with a traditional plate of cold salad like the one pictured above.  While I found this to be a slightly unusual offering, it was very charming and welcoming just the same. Since it was about six o’clock in the evening and therefore their traditional “tea” time, it meant that a cold salad or something similar would be entirely apropos on an Irish farm.

This comforting country plate consists of mashed potato salad, egg mayonnaise, sliced boiled ham, vine ripened tomatoes and perhaps a piece or two of warm brown soda bread *. We nibbled away while swapping sentimental stories and having a good laugh or two. Afterward, we shared a warm cup of tea and then retired for the night…the jet lag had prevailed.

*There are variations to this dish. Many people will add spring onion, cucumber, cole slaw or perhaps a bit of freshly sliced fruit.

Enjoy

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell. Assisted by Master Geoffrey McDonnell

Mashed Potato Salad

Ingredients:

6 white potatoes

1  cup mayonnaise

1 cup sour cream

1 tablespoon green onion, finely chopped

1 tablespoon fresh chives finely chopped

1 tsp flat leaf parsely, finely chopped

salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

Place peeled and sliced potatoes in a large pot and boil for 20 minutes, or until tender. When potatoes are cooked, drain and let sit for 5-10 minutes to cool. Once cooled, add in mayonnaise, sour cream, green onion, chives, parsley, salt, and pepper.

Egg Mayonnaise

For the egg filling:

3 eggs

4 tbsp mayonnaise

1 tsp lemon juice

Freshly milled pepper

cayenne pepper

For the mayonnaise:

2 whole egg yolks

1 tsp Dijon mustard or mustard powder

280 ml ground nut oil or vegetable oil

salt pepper

2 tsp lemon juice or white wine vinegar

Preparation

Method for the mayonnaise 1. In a bowl whisk the egg yolks and mustard

2. Start to gradually pour in the oil a drip at a time very gradually, whisking after each go until it becomes think and emulsifies

3. Check the seasoning and add a spoon of lemon juice or white wine vinegar if needed. Method for the egg mayonaise 1. Boil the eggs for 7 minutes in boiling water

2. Remove form the pan refresh allow to cool and peel

3. Lay on a plate and pour over the mayonnaise

4. Finish with a sprinkle of cayenne pepper

Tags: farm to table, Farming, food, foodie, gooseberry, ireland, irish foodie, jam, traditional cooking

To my greatest delight, I have a mother-in-law who cooks absolutely heavenly things…whether it be a tender roast dinner or a sweet apple tart baked on a plate, she never, ever disappoints.  When I popped in for a chat a few days back, she had a large bowl of freshly picked gooseberries on the table that she was “top and tailing”, i.e. removing the top and bottom stems.  I marvelled over these berries as I’d never experienced this fruit before in America. At first glance they appeared to be larger-than-life green grapes or teeny-tiny watermelons. Let’s just say, I hadn’t a clue about the greatness of gooseberry. (pronounced gooze-berry) up until then.

A few days later, a gorgeous jar of gooseberry jam was offered up and as I excitedly packed it into my bag and trotted back to our house, I contemplated how fast I could bake up a dozen scones and slather one, or perhaps even two, with this delicious new treat. An hour later, I pulled out a piping hot tray and searched for a container of Glenilen clotted cream in the fridge. After a bit of a cooldown, I carefully broke apart one golden scone and began spooning the gooseberry greatness atop followed by a sweep of fluffy clotted cream….what ensued after could only be described as pure bliss.

Gooseberry jam is perfectly tangy and sweet at once. I find most preserves to be either too much of one or the other, but for me, this berry indulgence is above reproach.

Here is Peggy’s tried and true recipe:

Gooseberry Jam

1 lb green gooseberries (topped and tailed)

1 lb Sugar

Simmer gently until the fruit is soft (this may take 30 minutes or longer).

Add the sugar and stir over low heat until dissolved.

Return the jam to the heat, bring to a rattling boil and boil steadily for 10 minutes

To test if the jam is ready, place a spoonful on a plate in the refrigerator and allow it to cool slightly. Drag a spoon across the jam and if it leaves a line the jam is ready.

Put the jam in warm, sterilized jars.

Allow to cool, then cover and place jars into the cupboard.

I hope you will enjoy this special Irish conserve as much as I.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photograph by Imen McDonnell. Assisted by Master Geoffrey McDonnell

For years gardening simply eluded me. Try as I might, I just could not get my head around the so-called greatness of gardening. I really thought it was a bunch of hooey…much ado about nothing…something to brag about when you’d nothing more exciting in your life. I certainly didn’t see the benefits of having something that tied you to home and made you get down and work on your hands and knees during those vital weekends off after a horrendous week at work.  Sure, those days were for lounging at the pool, going to the cinema, shopping with your besties; not digging in the dirt all afternoon. Now, don’t get me wrong, I did have potted herbs scattered about the terrace of my high-rise apartment that were tended to when needed. Still, while my basil, thyme and catnip could have quite possibly earned me the grand title of “urban gardener” one would have never put me in with the green-thumb group, that’s for sure.

Five years on, gardening has underhandedly penetrated the passion lobe in my brain with such gusto that I just can’t get enough of it. It is truly astonishing. Ever since we planted our first vegetable garden this Spring {an organic cornucopia of the tried and true: potatoes, cabbage, onions, leeks, and the more colourful: pumpkins, sweet little Paris Market carrots, red and white radishes, lambs lettuce, mache, yellow squash, radicchio and loads of gorgeous fragrant herbs} I have fallen in love and to put it bluntly, I have become a total HOE.

Hoeing has done something for me that I never dreamed possible. You see, working in our garden has replaced something that was nearest and dearest to my heart: my beloved Sunday morning routine. When I first moved here one of the most unsettling bits was that my Sunday ritual became basically unattainable. My previous Sunday’s in the city = getting up around 10AM then meeting a friend for brunch at my favorite bustling café, chatting and pouring over the New York Times Style & Arts sections whilst nibbling on an egg white omelette with warm sourdough bread and sipping the best hand roasted coffee in town. For me, it was a feast for the senses and utterly satisfying on every level of my consciousness. It grounded me. Each Sunday I did this without fail…if I was out of town, I’d improvise, but I would always have the basics: a fabulous café, The NY Times and good coffee.  I lived for it, longed for it and looked forward to it week after week.

Needless to say, I was absolutely crushed to find out that I couldn’t get the New York Times newspaper here in print much less conjure up a fab new friend or a nearby cafe in which to have breakfast. I simply could not get over the fact that I would never be able to obtain a copy of my favorite Sunday paper while living in Ireland! Eventually had to take the plunge and do the inevitable: switch to NYTimes.com, have breakfast at home by myself (hubs in the farmyard + pre-baby) and start drinking instant coffee.  Devastating.

Then, as serendipity would lend itself, it just so happened that the very same feeling of fulfillment drifted back to me as I began hoeing our new garden one fine Sunday morning. That absolute Zen feeling of contentment, joy and security all in one…a feeling that you just want to nurture and hold onto for dear life came flooding back. I fully took stock of this sensation and paused for a moment to take it in. And with that, on a gorgeous day in the Irish countryside, I found my new beloved Sunday routine.

And I am not letting it go.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Much to the delight of my husband, I have chosen potted crab for this week’s post. Inspired by adventures in Dublin last week with my new L.A. comrade Clare K. {of the fabulous and thought-provoking “An American In Ireland” blog} we excitedly found ourselves in Stoneybatter at the newly opened and much anticipated gastropub/craft brewpub: L. Mulligan Grocer along with various other Irish foodies and creative types.

We shared the most divine pot of crab to start, which led to an incredibly tender and succulent rib-eye naughtily smothered with creamy and sweet Kilbeggan Whiskey butter.  A single perfect crunchy latke-like potato cake was nestled right in there as well.  But the crab…oh, the crab–I was enamored.

For days I kept thinking about potted crab and how on earth I’d never experienced it before moving to Ireland. I remember having it in Kenmare at an amazing little place called the Lime Tree however, on a recent visit, potted crab was off the menu and the food simply didn’t translate the same…the cook? the kitchen? don’t know. Avoca’s potted crab is fresh and lovely..but they take the delicate meat out of the sealed container before serving so that it’s all light and fluffy which isn’t really the proper way of serving…at L. Mulligan it was served up properly in the sweet little vintage jar in which it was tenderly preserved. And it was heavenly.

Potted crab calls for clarified butter, which is butter that has been cleansed of the residual milk proteins and liquid. It can be heated to high temps without burning and is magnificent to use for pan-frying fish if you are so inclined. Pouring this layer of clarified butter over potted crab, fish or shrimp is a time-honoured Irish method of short-term preservation from the days before refrigeration.

For me, this is a perfect summer dinner…made with West Cork crab and served with toasted thick sourdough bread or Irish soda loaf. Remove the solid butter seal and it is absolutely light and fulfilling when accompanied by a mixed salad of flavourful greens such as watercress, rocket or mache and a glass of crisp, cold Sauvignon Blanc, Unoaked Chardonnay or Pinot Gris.

Enjoy.

Irish Potted Crab (serves 6)

400 g very fresh crabmeat (West Cork crab is wonderful)

150 unsalted butter

1/2 teaspoon mace

1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds

1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

pinch of salt

about 100 g clarified butter

6 small bay leaves

Pick over the crabmeat to make sure there are no shell fragments.

Warm the butter just enough to melt and stir in crabmeat, fennel seeds, mace, cayenne and a little salt. Taste and adjust seasoning.

Pack the mixture into a single dish or divide equally into six small pots or ramekins. Cover and chill until firm-about an hour.

Heat clarified butter just enough to melt it and pour over the surface of the potted crab to seal it. The amount of butter needed will depend on the size and number of pots. Top with a bay leaf, cover and chill.

Give crab at least 24 hours in the refrigerator to allow flavours to mingle and develop. Serve with toasted, buttered thick bread.

Clarified Butter:

500 g unsalted butter

Melt butter in a heavy pan on low heat. Bring it to the gentlest of simmers and hold at this temperature, without stirring (yes, it will kill you), until all the sediment has fallen to the bottom of the pan and the liquid butter is clear. This will take 30 minutes or more.

Use a fine sieve with a layer of cheesecloth and strain the liquid butter into a bowl or jar, leaving sediment in the pan. Allow butter to cool completely before covering and storing in a cool place.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell. With assistance by Master Geoffrey McDonnell.

The first time someone saluted me on the road it actually startled me. You see, it was one of those pointy, fingertip salutes whereby the person wags their finger a wee bit as if, in my mind, to say, “hey, you shouldn’t do that”.  I immediately checked to make sure I was driving on the right side of the road, which I was (for a change) and then I tried to mentally devise what I could have possibly been doing wrong. Soon another car came racing by and did the same action, which further boosted my anxiety. After 5 more cars and 4 pointy salutes (btw, I was in Tipperary and I rarely see this type of salute in our neck of the woods…we seem to have a lot of hand waves and head nods) I finally arrived at my destination. I immediately described this strange behaviour to my friends and, after a laugh at my expense, they explained that sure, it was merely a polite way to acknowledge you and say hello.

This is rural hospitality. And I am struck by it. Now, it is not to be mixed up with urban hospitality, i.e. scribbling “wash me please” on a dirty car or graciously keeping your head down on the subway. No, saluting and a few other lovely gestures are a true callback to times past…where being a decent and helpful person was simply a selfless act of kindness. Not saying that city dwellers are inhospitable, I won’t generalize-but I can’t claim to have ever been saluted in this way by a driver in L.A., NYC or MPLS. Unless, of course, you consider flipping a certain centrally located finger or sounding a wailing horn the same thing.

Calling in for a cup of tea unannounced is another one of those courteous gestures. Where we live you will always hear of “so and so” calling over to “so and so’s” for a warm cuppa and a chat to catch up on all the latest gossip (funerals, pregnancies, the priest and the weather, for example). Around here it still is nearly as much a ritual as going to church every Sunday. On the other hand, where I come from in the USA, the door doesn’t get answered unless it is known in advance whom the caller may be and what exactly they want with you. It is practically considered to be rude or perhaps even sneaky to pop by unannounced. You’d have to nearly “book in” at least a day in advance and declare your intentions for the visit with someone even as close as your best girlfriend. These are two extremes and at this stage I fall nicely into the middle.

Give me a ring to make sure I am home, and I will be happy to see you.

And if I drive past you on the road, I will salute.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Tags: country, cuppa, farm, hospitality, ireland, irish farmer, LA, marriage, NYC, tea

Photo by Imen McDonnell

The first time I spooned a morsel of this delicious cheesecake into my mouth it was one of those idyllic afternoons in the Irish countryside where the sun was shining and you could see hilly green meadows and trees for what seemed like miles. I like to call these my Merchant & Ivory Irish days.  Those are the ones that make all the other dreadfully gray, rainy days disappear as if they never existed in the first place. A pair of wonderful new aquaintances had invited us to their home for an afternoon of tennis and tea. Something that would not ordinarily be on our agenda, but nonetheless, a lovely invitation which couldn’t have been more perfect given the day before us.

When we arrived we passed through an old gate and drove up a winding lane passing by a coach house filled with beautiful horses and then a small shed with lambs before arriving at the main house where we were greeted by various breeds of roaming chickens and geese, a couple of small black dogs and a tabby cat who looked like he had a permanent smile. We walked into the garden to find several guests all sitting about blankets on the grass sipping cordials out of fine little glasses and nibbling of various sweet things that were setting on a table that was covered with a beautiful multicolored cloth that was blowing in the breeze.

After saying hello and meeting a handful of lovely new people, I made my way to the table and took a slice of what seemed to be a very plain and un-sinister looking tart.  It just happened to be Irish Curd Cheesecake and I just happened to fall in love with it.  Creamy yet textured, a baked lemon-y cheesecake that was absolutely unforgettable.

Fast forward 5 years. While doing my research on traditional Irish cooking and baking, I came across this recipe in a fabulous and indiscreet book called Irish Food and Folklore by Clare Connery. The delicious memories immediately came flooding back. Irish Curd Cheesecake is said to go back to the 18^th century and would often be served with a small glass of sherry or a cup of afternoon tea by the ladies of County Cavan amongst other counties throughout Ireland.

There is an option to add a dash of rosewater to the filling, which I obliged and, while it is very subtle, it adds a nice twist to the lemony flavour. I also used as many local ingredients as possible.

Hope this recipe brightens your day as much as it did ours.

Enjoy.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Irish Curd Cheesecake

Preheat oven to 160 C (325 F)

125 g/4 oz Shortcrust Pastry (your favorite)

Icing Sugar, for dusting

For the Filling:

50 g/ 2 oz softened butter

50 g/ 2 oz caster sugar

rind of 1 large lemon

juice of 1/2 lemon

pinch ground cinnamon

3 eggs, size 2 (large Ireland medium USA), separated

3 tablespoons plain flour

375 g/12 oz cottage cheese-sieved

For the Topping

1 egg, size 2

1 tablespoon caster sugar

25 g/ 1 oz butter, melted

1 tablespoon plain flour

Roll out pastry to 3-4 mm/1/8 inch thick and use to line a 20 cm/8 inch loose-bottomed metal flan tin. Set the tin on a baking sheet.

Cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy, then beat in the lemon rind and juice, cinnamon, egg yolks, flour and cottage cheese. Beat the egg whites untl stiff and fold into mixture. Pour into the pastry case.

Combine all the ingredients for the topping and pour on top of filling. Bake in preheated oven for 1 to 1 1/4 hours until cake is golden in colour, risen and firm to the touch. Leave to cool in the tin before removing. Sprinkle with icing sugar and serve with cream or natural yogurt.

Holidays can be transformative. It dawned on me one morning as I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror: I look different here. Maybe it’s because I suddenly had a tan or maybe it was just one of those “pretty bathrooms” that you find only on holidays that are so awash in golden light that your skin glows and your eyes sparkle like a fairy princess. Still, I have to admit it was slightly disconcerting. I mean I rarely even look at myself in the mirror anymore, there just seems to be far more important matters at stake here between our family and the farm. I began to ponder, have I actually stopped noticing myself?

After living in the Irish countryside for the last five years, basically having only my immediate family and the animals to socialize with, I am beginning to have mixed emotions about all that us girls feel need to do to keep up appearances in this world. For instance, I had been anxiously waiting and waiting to arrive on our holiday in the USA so that I could immediately dart out to the nearest Sephora, Bliss, Nordstrom, Neimans and whatever other bloody store I can nip into in order to stock up on all of my perceived necessary and long overdue beauty supplies.

As it happened, once I had acquired everything, I felt ridiculous.  While I love all of my: potions, creams, infusions, tonics, conditioners treatments, moisturisers, serums, soufflés, glosses, shines, gels, scrubs, spritzers, peels, masques, oils…and the list goes on, the truth is, I simply don’t know what to do with all of this stuff anymore. I’ve never been much of a makeup person, but I’ve always prided myself on slathering and sweeping copious amounts of sweet smelling concoctions on my face and body each morning in addition to indulging in evening home facials and hair treatments. When I lived in America, I had a standing pedicure/manicure appt every week along with frequent trips to my hairdresser and aesthetician each month.  I worked in an image-conscious field so those things seemed absolutely essential.

But, is it all really necessary now? Must I reinstate my previously painstaking routine de beaute’? Suddenly it seems so banal and exhausting. I wonder how I ever managed to get up each day, work out and get ready each morning applying twenty different items and still get to my office on time for work. {alright, so maybe I didn’t always make it “on time”}

Nowadays, being a mummy and living on the farm, I find myself hastily slapping on moisturizer and lipgloss then just braiding my hair to one side or putting in cute pigtails after a quick morning shower. When we have a dinner party or fancy event such as the Annual Milk Producer’s Dance, I go into the city to have my hair/nails/makeup done for the occasion. It makes me feel pretty all over again and is so much more fulfilling than it ever used to be.  I wonder, do I need to do more?  When you live on a farm in the Irish countryside is it okay to cut back just a wee bit?

While on this American holiday, I saw a sappy commercial on the television…the jingle went like this  {orchestral music under} “sometimes when we go to a place where no one knows us, we become who we really are”

Minus all the extras?

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Next week I will featuring my first “Farm Fresh Food” post with a traditional Irish dish and recipe. I hope you will pop by and take a peek!