Nettles.

They sting.

Yeah, me and nettles haven’t exactly been fast friends over the past few years, but that is changing. If you will allow me to get a bit metaphorical, I will explain.

When I first moved to Ireland, I didn’t know what to expect. I was head over heels in love and braying-like-a-donkey-excited to embark on this new chapter of my life. As anyone who knows me personally will attest, my most profound challenge after relocating to Ireland was obviously not “marrying a farmer.”  It’s pretty easy to be married to my husband, no matter how rough things have gotten, we’ve managed to stay in love (no small feat). No, the hardest part was something I naively never anticipated: losing the stubborn identity that went along with a career that, for better or worse, defined me.

It’s not like I had a six-figure job, nor was I the president or CEO of a Fortune 500 company. When I moved to Ireland, I was working in the wacky world of advertising, producing television commercials that shlepped global beauty, fashion and food brands. The work often involved collaborating with talented directors and took me around the world. Before that, I was at the Rosie O’Donnell Show in NYC. But, don’t get too excited; I was very young and merely a serf who spent a whole lotta time buying Christmas pressies on behalf of Ms. O’Donnell. Memories of maniacally running around the west village in search of rare redcoat army figures for Tom Hanks, or toy shopping for Cruise-Kidman clan will forever more be imprinting on my brain.

Still, I was passionate about my work because I got to be creative and work with people who inspired me on a daily basis. The work was very social and there was always something new on the horizon. Of course, this was before the recession when clients still had bottomless pockets of money to be spent on hefty advertising budgets (yes, somewhat Mad Men-esque despite being the noughties).  I lived, breathed, ate, and drank work. I was so consumed by it that there was room for little else in my life (ahem, like farmers). Sure, at times, I would become keenly aware that I needed more balance. And, those days became more frequent as Richard and I became serious about our relationship.

When we decided it would be best for me to be the one to move, I genuinely assumed I would still be able to work as a producer. If not for the agency I had been with for 5 years, then in a freelance capacity in Ireland. I was excited to experience new opportunities.

Suffice to say, those options didn’t really pan out. I became a mommy. CEO and chief nappy changer of the house. When Geoffrey was still a baby, I designed a line of infant one-pieces that fell through when I discovered my BABY EIRE branding was not acceptable in Ireland (There are still 300 of them sitting in the attic, if you want one). I worked on one television series, and also some small food-related production projects on a gratis basis. I help out on the farm. I am paid a small salary to write a country living column in a national newspaper. I am trying to restore a period thatched farm, whose potential is not seen as clearly to others than to I. I have done a handful of cookery demonstrations at events around the country. I started this blog, which has evolved into so much more than I anticipated…but, as much as I am committed, a blog alone is not a career.

Which brings me to why I’ll never forget my first nettle sting. I was working in the garden. My first garden ever, I might add. Somehow summer Sundays had always been for shopping at Sephora or sitting by a pool, not gardening. Anyway, I accidentally brushed up against a nettle. What the hell was a nettle anyway? The sting was painful, but didn’t warrant my reaction. I swore at that blasted nettle. I damned it.

Then, oddly, I began to cry.
One of those horrendous heaving cries.
I cried about the hurt of the damn nettle sting.
I cried for my father.
I cried about the bloody Irish weather.
I cried that Geoffrey would never play Little League.
I even cried about not getting Rosie her tuna fish on poppyseed bagel anymore.
I cried the kind of cry that keeps your cheeks a slappy shade of red for the rest of the day.
Then, I rang Richard and screamed at him for the nettle abuse.
Nettles were just one more reason why we should move to America in my mind.
America, my imaginary land of opportunity, where I could have fulfilling work again. Where I could be me.
It was ridiculous.

Yes, life had a bit of a sting to it at the time.

This is why me and nettles haven’t been on the greatest terms. But, this is changing. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been bravely experimenting with nettles. We’ve had a few good natters, the two of us. We’ve made a deal: if I wear gloves and blanch them in hot water, they won’t make me cry. In fact, I discovered that if you put them in hot water for long enough, you will create a most flavourful and completing cup of tea, especially with a tiny drip of honey. Perfect for the wintery weather we can’t seem to shake here.

I’m now embarking on a special new film project, Food Island. I get to take everything I’ve come to learn here on my food-and-farming-filled Irish adventure, and combine it with those good old production skills. For me, this feels like a match made in heaven. Next week, two wonderful friends will arrive from America; one a producer and one a cinematographer. We will be journeying around the country as I direct a short film about Ireland’s exciting new food culture. Not quite a new career, but definitely a good start.

That sting is history.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: American, farm, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, foodies, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Irish country living, Irish food photography, love, Marrying an Irishman, mint, nettles, Rosemary, stinging nettles, tea

We spent Sunday afternoon at the local Steeplechase

a horse race dripping in history

which is run from one point

to another point

over fences and hills

in the raw Irish countryside…

We were in awe of the young, powerful thoroughbreds

crashing over fences woven with willow branches

…leaving dust in their wake,

and struck by such stunning beauty in the strength and condition of maiden horses

As for the spectators,

there were some very serious betters

with some serious bookmakers at their disposal…

Onlookers of the canine variety were welcomed as well.

We admired colourful jockeys

gathered together before each race,

and spotted the lone female rider

all dressed in white.

Cups of hot whiskey

with lemon, sugar and cloves

were sipped by many

for warming protection

from the brisk, stirring wind

that accompanied the afternoon sun.

Unforgettable.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos by Imen McDonnell 2012.

Tags: country life, farm, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, foodies, Horse, hot whiskey, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, irish farmer, Irish food photography, married an irishman, Point to Point, Racing, steeplechase

It’s official. I’ve lost the plot.  Or, as one might say in Ireland: I’ve gone mad as a brush, a bit doolally, cracked as a cricket, bonkers, a bit touched…. and, in all likelihood--away with the fairies.

You see, the cake pictured above is not your average-ordinary cake. It is NOT a gorgeous vanilla sponge slathered with tangy Meyer lemon icing, nor is it a secret red velvet covered in velvety cream cheese frosting. No, no, no. It is a cake made out of four layers of homemade bread, filled with savoury, creamy goodness and spackled with chilled mayonnaise. Oh, and by savoury, creamy goodness, I mean stick to the ribs, wholesome, rich, Irish-style sandwich fillings. {Ahem, mad as a bag of cats}

I’ve had a notion for quite some time that I needed to share a post about the beauty of Irish Sandwichery with you. I suppose I am taking a bit of liberty with the term Irish Sandwichery, but I believe it serves it well. The art of the Irish sandwich or “roll” is a craft to be reckoned with.

However, it did take me a bit of time to adjust to sandwiches in Ireland. I say this because sandwiches were kind of my ‘thang’ for a long time. I felt intimately close with sandwiches as they comforted me on days when I worked through lunch (more often than not) crunching production numbers or screening through buckets of directors.

I treasured my weekly stiletto sprints to the deli to choose my special sandwich, grab a bag of chips (crisps) and a spritzy lemonade before heading back to my office. I had a bit of a system in place, whereby I would alternate rare roast beef with cheddar on a braided roll with corned beef and Swiss on Kaiser. The odd day I would splash out for chicken salad with grapes and almonds on croissant.  If it was cold out, perhaps a gooey tuna melt and some soup too. Chicken and stuffing had not yet entered my universe.

It is possible that my sandwich affinity started when I was a small girl. I remember my mother making up platters of tuna sandwiches or fluffer-nutters for us when I was still young enough to run around topless on a hot summer sprinkler kind of day. We would eat sandwich after sandwich washed down with tumblers of Country Time lemonade. The picture of health.

So, when I saw my first sandwich board at a popular Irish café, I was stumped. Egg mayonnaise? Ham and salad? Cheese and Onion? Chicken and Stuffing? Tuna and Sweetcorn? Ploughman’s? Bacon and Boiled Egg? Not one turkey pastrami on rye. Wha? Despite the obvious carbtasticness of Chicken and Stuffing, I went for it. And, umm, never looked back.

I have tried each and every one of these traditional Irish sandwich fillings and they are all some kind of wonderful. We often have just sandwiches for evening tea on the farm. Now, these are not the only choices you will find in Ireland, but without a doubt, you will find most of these options in every deli, grocery store, filling station, pubs and casual cafes around this fair country. (*Oh, and for early morning sandwich lovers, try the famous Irish breakfast roll: sausage, rasher, egg, hash brown, puddings, onion, butter and sauce on baguette)

For this post, I really wanted to celebrate Irish sandwich fillings and was trying to think of how to go about it when I was struck by a tasty memory of eating a cake made out of sandwiches years ago. Growing up in the Midwestern part of the USA, you will find plenty of Scandinavian influence in cooking and baking. I distinctly remember a friend’s Scandi mother making these massive sandwich cakes from time to time, and online research tells me that they were likely called Smörgåstårta.

And, so it was decided: I would make a sandwich cake layered with Irish-style fillings. Serendipity!

First, using Rachel Allen’s recipe, I baked my bread layers in springform baking tins, just like you would a sweet layer cake.

Then, I made up the fillings; I chose to do three fillings, which makes it a gorgeous tower of a cake, but to be honest, a bit too much trouble to cut into. If you decide to make this, I would go with two thick layers for the ease of it. I went with tuna + sweetcorn, cheese + onion, and chicken + stuffing (with a bit of rocket). I “iced” the cake with chilled mayonnaise and adorned the top with wild garlic flowers and sorrel leaves.

And, for the big reveal…..sloppy, creamy, oozy, bready, messy, scrumptious savoury cake heaven.

Really lovely treat to bring to an afternoon lunch, garden party or pot luck. Choose your own favourite flavours and decorative toppers. You can also do this using bread rounds from the bakery or store.

Slan Abhaile

Imen x

Photos & Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012. Wild Garlic & Sorrel foraged by Geoffrey McDonnell. With thanks to the Irish Twitter squad for helping me with the mad Irish expressions.

Tags: American, cake, Cheese and Onion, Chicken and Stuffing, farm, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, irish food, Irish food photography, love, love in Ireland, Marrying an Irishman, Midwest, Sandwich, smörgåstårta, Sorrel, Tuna and Sweetcorn, wild garlic

Yip, I’ll admit it.  I was once a bona fide corned beef-n-cabbage, green beer sipping girl. Each St. Patrick’s Day, without fail, me and a posse of friends would head out to at least one Irish pub each year on the 17^th of March, and happily belly up to a hot paper plate of corned beef and watery cabbage with a side order of green tainted lager…or two {hic}.

It was a ritual, never gave much thought as to why we would do such a thing, we just did….and ohhh, was it fun. Fast forward to life in Ireland where the closest thing to corned beef is that chunk of spiced beef found in the supermarkets at Christmas time or another option resembling something very close to SPAM. My first truly Irish St. Patrick’s Day celebration at the farm probably confirmed my father in law’s suspicions that I was mad when I asked if he had ever eaten corned beef on St. Paddy’s Day. And, while I have come to grips with no longer enjoying corned beef served out of a Nesco on the Day, I have yet to work through the 5 stages of grieving my beloved corned beef and swiss on rye for lunch.

Nowadays, Paddy’s parties are a bit more civilized for myself and our family. We tend to go to the local afternoon parade and then come home and have our “tea” (tea = supper on the farm); a picnic of whatever cold cuts, cheeses, spreads, vegetables I’ve picked up from the farmer’s market along with a quick baked loaf of brown soda bread and a little dessert. I’ve written a piece for the Dean & Deluca Gourmet Food Blog about that first St. Patrick’s Day experience and also what delicious Irish eats we’ll have this year, have a look and see.

This weekend we also celebrate another holiday in Ireland: Mother’s Day! Yes, Mother’s Day is in March, not May on the craggy green isle. Therefore, I am entitled to two special days, in theory. Not so much on paper or in real life, but the option is there if ever a certain farmer would like to be generous {cough cough}.

One of the best parts about Spring in Ireland has to be fresh rhubarb. Rhubarb compote, rhubarb ice cream, rhubarb clafoutis, rhubarb cake, rhubarb muffins, rhubarb crumble and a personal favourite, my very special rhubarb pudding. This recipe for rhubarb pudding came about by happenstance a few years back when I realized I didn’t have oatmeal for my spring rhubarb-berry crumble to bring to the farm for Easter dinner. I had made the oaty version for Mother’s Day the first year I was here and everyone really loved it, especially Grandma whose compliments were ever so heartwarming. I was asked to bring it again for Easter that year, but that morning I suddenly realized we didn’t have the oats to make the crumbly part so I sub’d flour and came out with a cakey, cobbly, crispy on top, cray cray good rhubarb…umm, pudding.  I brought it to dinner and we ate it for dessert with dollops of vanilla yogurt and everyone said it was even better than the crumble. {yippee!}

I submitted my recipe which I named “Farmhouse Spring Pudding” to Sweet Paul magazine’s “Happy Dish” competition last month and he chose it for his Spring 2012 issue, which is online now! I am still pinching myself. I love, love, love reading Sweet Paul; his motto is “ chasing the sweet things in life” and the magazine always lives up to that….beautifully designed and filled with easy + elegant recipes, fun + stylish crafts, entertaining ideas, shopping tips and more.  Pour yourself a cup of tea and give it a good browse when you have some time. Here is a link to the recipe (mag photo and styling by Sweet Paul) and another link to the NY Times Diner’s Journal who also enjoyed reading about my “rhubarb cake”! Give it a go when your rhubarb roosts and let me know how you like it =)

Have a Happy St. Patrick’s & Mother’s Day!

Slan Abhaile,

Imen xx

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: American, Dean and DeLuca, farm, farmer, food, foodie, foodies, I Married An Irish Farmer, ireland, Irish, Irish food photography, married a farmer, Mother's Day, Spring Farmhouse Pudding, St. Patrick's Day, St. Patrick's Day recipes, Sweet Paul magazine

Pan, soda, cobb, bloomer, brown, batch, granary, rolled, basket, milk……all names of beautiful breads that you will find in any Irish market or bakery on any given day, and all names of breads that totally eluded me upon moving to Ireland.

Milk bread in particular sounded appealing to me. I stumbled upon a loaf a couple years back and gave it a try, loved it, asked some friends if they knew what it was (no), then somehow forgot all about it. This dairy-based bread came up in conversation at the farm the other day when I was discussing an email that I received from an American blog reader who had spent considerable time in Ireland.  She wondered if I had a recipe for “plain old sliced white pan” which I will post very soon (promise!), but in the meantime, I had discovered the farm recipe for old-fashioned milk bread and couldn’t wait to give it a try.

After getting a jug of fresh morning milk from the dairy, I made a cup of coffee and measured all of my ingredients. I made the recipe two ways: First using plain (all-purpose) flour and secondly, using strong (bread) flour. The plain flour will make a softer/cakey almost tea bread and strong flour creates an airier, sandwich-style texture. The milk creates a very rich flavour and texture, and both versions are wonderful.

After combining the flour with butter then adding the salt, sugar and yeast, I added the fresh warm milk. Once it was all mixed, I began to knead the dough which became incredibly velvety and smooth.

Ten minutes later I rolled the dough into an oblong shape and popped it into the loaf pan to rise for about 25 minutes (or until it’s just peeping over the top of the pan) Finally, I slid the pan into a hot oven and 30-40 minutes later out came a gorgeous loaf of bread. Just perfect served warm with fresh honey butter and a colourful salad.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos & Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012 (photos are of the plain/cream flour version)

Tags: American, dairy, farm, Farming, flour, food, foodie, foodies, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish baking, Irish country living, Irish food photography, milk bread

At around this time last year, food courtesans from all over Ireland were flocking together in Donegal to celebrate Inishfood, Ireland’s “Glastonbury of Food” as Suzanne Campbell aptly implied. Inishfood was a renegade event organised by the remarkable (and indefatigable!) Donal Doherty of Harry’s Restaurant with Kristin Jensen and Caroline Hennessy of the IFBA and supported/promoted/assisted/accompanied by a myriad of proud Irish artisan food enthusiasts/producers/journalists/bloggers and broadcasters. Even Parisienne Trish Deseine, a Norn-Irelander, who is one of France’s most celebrated food writers, joined us virtually with encouraging + inspiring words that were read over coffee during the welcoming gathering on Saturday morning.

The farmer and I drove from the southwest of Ireland to the stunning northernmost Inishowen Peninsula on a rainy and cold Friday afternoon. In total, the drive took about 5 hours, and even though we did not know exactly what to expect once we were there, there was a feeling that we would be participating in something really special and unforgettable. For the record, ’special and unforgettable’ was a mass understatement.

We arrived at our beautiful riverside B&B at dusk and were greeted by Margaret and William Grant, the charming couple who own Westbrook House. We sat in their cozy kitchen breezily chatting away about farming, inn-keeping, and relations between the north and the south. In that time, I also spied a vintage butter churn on the countertop and explained that I would be doing a butter making demonstration at the festival the following day. Margaret insisted that I take along their churn. It was kismet because I had been looking for that exact style of churn to use in my presentation as a reference and wasn’t having luck sourcing it. Talk about Irish hospitality!

They showed us to our comfortable bedroom; all the rooms were named after a child in their family and we had one of the daughter’s rooms whose name was written on the door, but I cannot recall it at the moment. What I do remember is that this was my first time staying in an Irish B&B and it couldn’t have been a better experience.

After we freshened up a bit, we were collected and taken to Linsfort Castle for some “to be revealed” evening festivities. We were dropped at the entrance of the large country house with a group of others and then were escorted down a torch lit sandy lane to Darren Bradley’s cottage on the sea. As it was still winter, there was a damp chill in the air, but once we joined the group huddled around Darren’s handcrafted outdoor brick oven with pizzas popping out every 5 minutes, we were fine and toasty. When we were handed a bottle of Irish craft beer and a slice of hot pizza creatively topped with black pudding, potato and rosemary, we were officially all warmed up…have a look: (and listen to that lovely Northern Ireland dialect!)

After plenty of chat and cheer at the pizza and beer party, we gathered inside Linsfort Castle where traditional Irish folk stories and music were shared in front of a blazing hearth fire. We all gobbled down bowls of hot venison stew and sipped on more craft brews. I kept pinching myself to see if it was all for real because I felt so transported to a magical place that when I looked around the room it was hard not to imagine that we were all characters playing out scenes in a beautiful Irish arthouse film.

The next day, everyone gathered at Harry’s in Bridgend where a series of food demos and chat took place with the group happily sharing the same love and enthusiasm for Irish food and the idea of Ireland: The Food Island. Sally McKenna, of The Bridgestone Guides, Mag Kirwin of Goatsbridge Trout Farm, David Tiernan of Glebebretha Cheese, Ella McSweeney from Ear to the Ground, Craft butchers, Ed Hick, Pat Whelan, Jack McCarthy, TJ Crowe of Crowes farm, Seanean and Collin from L Mulligan Grocer in Dublin to name just a few. A plethora of blogger friends, new and not so new, mingled around a smorgasbord of food for everyone to sample, it was an Irish food paradise.

That evening, we enjoyed an unbelievable “no menu” meal at Harrys. Shared serving platters which were continuously delivered to our communal style tables were adorned with food all sourced within minutes from the restaurant. During the night, I had a conversation with Zack Gallagher of The Irish Food Guide. He encouraged me to use dulse (he recommended pepper dulse) to flavor my farm butter. I went home thinking about doing just that and like so many other brilliant suggestions, it took me a bit to get there. Last week, I finally got my hands on some dulse and decided to make butter with it. The flavour knocked our socks off. Spicy, salty…this seaweed adds a dimension of flavour to the butter that you can’t quite put your finger on, but brings enormous satisfaction and makes you want more (umami?).

I brought my dulse butter to the table of a photo shoot that I took part in last week at the stunning Village at Lyons in County Kildare. The shoot was for a feature on food and rural living that will be published in the exciting new Irish glossy Irish Country Magazine coming out on 29^th March. Here’s a fun snap from the day (from bottom right to left, Ella McSweeney, Pat Whelan, Yvonne Kerr (deputy editor), me, Lorna Sixsmith)

You can learn how to make your own butter with my DIY editorial here; afterwards, just finely chop up a handful of softened dulse and massage into your butter. You won’t be disappointed.

Inishfood will return again this year over the May 18-20th weekend, and we already have the Westbrook House booked!

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Dulse butter photo by Imen McDonnell 2012. Irish Country Magazine photo taken on location by food stylist,  Sharon Hearne-Smith.

Tags: butter, Crowes Farm, Darren Bradley, Donegal, Dulse, Ella McSweeney, farmhouse butter, Farming, food, foodie, Goatsbridge Trout Farm, Harry's Bar, I Married An Irish Farmer, IFBA, Imen McDonnell, Inishfood, Inishowen, ireland, Irish, Irish Food Guide, Irish food photography, L. Mulligan Grocer, Pat Whelan, Seaweed, Suzanne Campbell, The Bridgestone Guides

I’m not gonna lie. Making marmalade this weekend nearly killed me. It also came very close to destroying our beloved kitchen in a single swoop of a sugar boil over. What started as a fun, sweet smelling adventure….even Zen-like at times, turned into a study in wrong utensils, burnt orange peels, arms and fingers, and a massive citrus manicure that would make bathtub shriveled hands look as smooth as a baby’s bottom to boot. So, no, no, no, a Lady Marmalade, I am not.

It was a good lesson. This blog has received a few nice foodie mentions lately, which are wonderfully cherished & remarkable given that I am still only learning the ropes in the kitchen. And, while I’m having a great time getting acquainted with a food culture that is very exciting to learn and share, it can still feel very unfamiliar to me at times.

When I lived in America, I would marvel at the pretty marmalade packaging at my local co-op, but never really indulged. At the time, there was not the same variety of flavours…a couple of brands peddling your straight-up orange marmalade is what was mostly on offer. Then, I moved to Ireland and I couldn’t believe my eyes when I first walked down the jam & preserves aisle at the supermarket or at our local Milk Market.  I was fascinated by so many versions of marmalade: whiskey marmalade, bitter orange marmalade, thick cut, fine cut, chips style, lime, grapefruit, tangerine, orange and ginger…the list goes on.

I presumed marmalade making was a traditional preserving skill that would be easy and fun to try in the kitchen. After all, I had made Peggy’s Gooseberry Jam without fail. But, marmalade is a different beast, it takes an extraordinary amount of patience. For the cooking of the oranges, for the cutting of the peel, for the waiting of the set. I suppose there is still a part of me that craves quick and convenient, even though my life is anything but!

A staple in cupboards across the country, marmalade is the perfect accompaniment to a slice of toasted bread for breakfast, a new tradition that I have come to enjoy. In fact, the principal at Geoffrey’s school told me that long ago children were given marmalade in the morning to brighten their moods. I could understand, marmalade is like sunshine in the morning.

Since this is the time of year for Seville oranges and I had just received my Mrs. Beeton’s Household Management book in the post, I decided to give it a go. I found the oranges in Superquinn. It was very exciting. I had never seen a bag of oranges labeled “for cooking only.” They cooked for two hours in a large pan of water covered with a plate. The following day, it was time to slice and ream out the oranges. Luckily, I had a reamer, but it still was an awful mess. I guessed the peel would take roughly thirty minutes to complete. Three hours later, I was still trimming. I had started out cutting the peel thin, and kept going increasingly thinner and thinner until paper thin, as I obsessed about all the advice I received on making sure the peel wasn’t too thick.  After an hour, my hands were already sore and raw and I was nearly ready to throw in the towel despite having a kilo of oranges left to ream and peel.

I was making two versions, straight up marmalade and marmalade with cardamom so I divided everything up into two saucepans, which seemed to be large enough. I brought them both up to a fast boil and planned to keep them at a low rolling boil until the setting point. After about fifteen minutes, I tested the consistency with a plate. Watery. Five more minutes, syrupy. Six more minutes and a happy dance later, the cardamom version had set so I turned it off to cool. 15 minutes down the road and the other batch still had not set. It was boiling over and turning very dark. I had to keep turning it down. I burned myself more than once.

Thankfully, I ended up with six pots of delicious orange-cardamom marmalade. The rest of the marmalade never did set, and is bitter and burnt to the taste. I still don’t know what went wrong. I also managed to make two jars of Seville orange curd with three reserved oranges which turned out absolutely delicious, so will share the recipe here.

Seville Orange Curd

Combine the grated zest of 3 Seville oranges & juice of one lemon,

125g butter and 250g sugar in Bain Marie over simmering hot water until completely melted.

Slowly stir in 2 whipped eggs, stirring constantly until mixture is thick on back of wooden spoon (15 mins or so)

careful not too have the heat too high or your eggs will scramble.

Put into jars and let cool

Refrigerate and eat within a week

I am sure in a year’s time the memories of sweat, burns and tears will have faded….

….and I will try, try, try my marmalade again.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: American, cardamom, farm, farmer, food, foodies, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish food photography, irish foodies, lady marmalade, marmalade, milk market, orange curd, Seville oranges

Happy New Year! You might have noticed a few wee changes here….what better time for new beginnings than the first week of the year, right?

In the spirit of fresh new starts, I’ve decided to make a small change to the title of this blog and from this day forward she will now be emblazoned: “farmette” {at I Married An Irish Farmer}. The farmer and I gave it some thought and came to the conclusion that it was time for a change…and in his words “We all know you married an Irish farmer now….isn’t that old news?” He’s right.

So, here’s the new news…

1. I have basically (umm, finally) settled into my role as ‘chief farmette’ here at the farm.

Plus…

2. The little weekly column that I write is entitled “Tales of A Modern Farmette” and @ModernFarmette is also my handle on the ‘ould Twitterbox, so now everything will be all nice and tidy.  We likey nice-y and tidy.

And…

3. The word “farmette” makes me smile. Nuff said.

For now, the web address will stay the same so you don’t have to remember a new one, eventually it will move to a new address and I will make sure that process is seamless.

I have also added two new pages on the right hand side:  “Settling In” and “Traditional Skills”. Both quick links to past blog posts with “Settling In” being a sort of pre-food round up of funny posts about adapting to my new life in the countryside, and “Traditional Skills”, a place for all those time-honoured skills that I have learned over the past 2 years, such as butter and cheese making, apple pressing, jam, bread, and honeybee posts. I will be adding new material to both pages as time goes on.

Roight. Enough with the housekeeping, swiftly moving on…

I had planned on starting off the year with theeee most wickedly decadent cake + pudding post, inspired by one too many viewings of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette over the holiday break, but decided to go with a healthier start…for a week or so anyway.

Baked porridge oats for brekky is one of the little farmer’s firm favourites. He loves it with brown sugar + massive amounts of cinnamon and Grandad’s honey. This morning we used Highbank Orchard Syrup, a boiled down apple syrup in place of the honey. Let’s just say it went over better than a new Phineas and Ferb episode. I discovered this gorgeous new product at Savour Kilkenny in October, and we will definitely keep a stock of it in the larder from here on out as it is perfect in porridge on a cold winter’s morning.

My {Quick and Easy} Baked Irish Porridge Oats

Ingredients

1 cup of Irish porridge oats (We love Kilbeggan Organic* best, now also available in the USA at Dean & Deluca in store and online)

2 cups of water or milk + 2-3 tablespoons milk

1 tsp boiled apple syrup or 2 tsp of honey

1-3 tsp cinnamon

2 tbsp brown sugar

Method

Bring the porridge oats and water or milk to a boil in a saucepan. Turn down heat and let simmer for 3-4 minutes stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Mix in a few tablespoons of milk, a teaspoon of Highbank Orchard Syrup (or any boiled apple syrup) and cinnamon to taste. Pour into an ovenproof ceramic baking dish, sprinkle top with 2 tbsp of brown sugar and place into 425f/210c oven* for 20 minutes or until brown sugar has bubbled and hardened on top slightly. Serve immediately.

*alternatively, if you have an oven with an overhead grill place under at 200c for 10-15 minutes

*Since posting, I rec’d an email that Kilbeggan Oats are now available in Stateside at Dean & DeLuca!

You can also use the coarser steel cut oats; just soak them in water overnight beforehand so they get nice and soft when cooked/baked in the morning.

Cheers to a wonderful 2012! If you have a spare moment, would love to hear your thoughts on “farmette” and other changes to the blog…you can leave a reply below.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen x

Photo and styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: 2012, American, country life, Dean and DeLuca, farm, farmer, farmette, Farming, food, foodies, Highbank Orchard Syrup, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Irish, Irish country living, irish porridge, Kilbeggan oats, Marie Antoinette, Modern Farmette, New Year

This morning I wondered out loud on Twitter if a Toad-In-The-Hole is essentially the same as a Pig-In-A-Blanket? I then meandered into the kitchen and using a recipe I learned from The Butcher, baked up a mini tray of the very same Toads-In-The-Holes that were in question for my little farmer. When I logged back into the Twitterverse, I was dumbfounded by the flood of spirited responses to my porky little enquiry!

No one was having it. Even fellow Americans told me that Pigs-In-A-Blanket were hot dogs wrapped in Pillsbury crescent rolls, certainly not a sausage inside of a Yorkshire pudding. {I must admit, I do recall my dear Aunt R making the most delicious dogs in crescents and finger jellos for us kids after a long day of slip-n-sliding in the sun}

Still, I always thought that a Pig-In-A-Blanket was a sausage wrapped inside of pancake. I had the best intentions….thought I was on the right track, you know, pork popping out of some sort of doughy batter….similar right?

Nope. I stood firmly corrected. Here’s a snippet:

@ModernFarmette blasphemer! Err.. Ok that’s a bit strong, I’m very fond of toad in the hole. It’s not the same thing.

@ModernFarmette pigs in blankets are sausages wrapped in bacon here! Toad in hole is sausages in a lg Yorkshire pudding yummy comfort food

@ModernFarmette Nope – toad in the hole is sausage in a yorkshire pudding batter. Pigs in Blankets are in pastry (aren’t they???)

@ModernFarmette wiki doesn’t agree they are the same en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toad_in_t… vs en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pigs_in_a…

@ModernFarmette They’re different – with a toad, you pour over a pancake-type batter in a dish that puffs up all around the sausages.

@ModernFarmette toad in a hole, I believe, is the same as egg in a hole #dontquotemeonthat

@modernfarmette So really it’s more like a pig in a hole.

@ModernFarmette totally different! Toad in the hole is sausage baked in Yorkshire batter

@ModernFarmette are pigs in blankets sausies wrapped in puff pastry? Toad in the hole are sausies in Yorkshire pudd batter. And delish.

@ModernFarmette Pigs in blankets are sausages wrapped in bacon

@ModernFarmette I learned this Christmas that the pigs are sausages wrapped in bacon and baked, toads are sausages in Yorkshire pudding!

@ModernFarmette pig in a blanket is sausage in pastry, toad is sausage in Yorkshire pud basically, near the same but both delish!

@ModernFarmette Pig in a blanket is like a sausage roll? Toad in the hole is sausages baked in a dish w/Yorkshire pudding type mixture.

@ModernFarmette we had them but they were hot dogs wrapped in crescent rolls. Yummers.

I didn’t really want to end the year with a Sausage Toad-In-The-Hole, but, as you can see, I simply could not resist.

A Toad In The Hole

Serves 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups or 188g of all purpose flour

1 scant teaspoon Kosher salt

Pinch of freshly ground black pepper

3 eggs, beaten

1 1/2 cup or 375ml milk

2 Tbsp melted butter

1 Tbsp vegetable oil

1 lb or 450g  (4 medium sized)  Irish or English sausage made with pork and breadcrumbs or good quality pork or beef sausage links (in casings)

Method

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour with the salt and a pinch of pepper. Make a well in the center of the flour. Pour in the eggs, milk, and melted butter into the well and whisk into the flour until smooth. Cover and let stand 30 minutes.

Coat the bottom and sides of an 8×12 or 9×9 casserole dish or a 4 hole pudding tin (for individual minis) with vegetable oil. Place a rack in the bottom third of the oven. Put the empty dish on the rack. Preheat the oven with the dish in it to 425°F.

While the oven is coming to temperature, heat a tablespoon of vegetable oil in a skillet on medium high. Add the sausages and brown them on at least a couple sides.

When the sausages have browned, and the dish in the oven hot, pull the oven rack out a bit (or out alltogether), put the sausages in the casserole dish or pudding tin, and pour the batter over the sausages. Cook for about 20-30 minutes or until the batter is risen and golden.

Serve at once.

*For Yank-style, I add 1/8 cup of sugar to the dry ingredients and then drench in Maple syrup immediately upon removal from the oven.

Thank you for putting up with all of my farmy foibles and experiments in Irish food this year…..it brings me real pleasure to share.

Happy New Year To One And All!

Slan Abhaile,

Imen x

Photo and styling by Imen McDonnell 2011

Tags: American, country life, farm, Farming, food, foodie, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Irish, Irish food photography, irish foodies, James Whelan Butchers, modernfarmette, toad in a hole, twitter

Richard’s favourite Christmas dessert is a massive. sloppy meringue covered with loads of cream and fresh fruit. Pavlova, roulade…anything of the like, and he goes crazy for it. I finally got around to attempting meringues this week as a holiday treat ‘just for him’

{20. 12.11 text message conversation}

Farmer: Did you make them yet?

Me: Make what? I am whipping the meringues right now, can’t talk

Farmer: Yes, meringues

Me: Yes, meringues! Speak tonite

Farmer: Did they turn out good?

Me: You can try one tonite *nearly drops phone into bowl of stiff peaks of egg whites*

Farmer: Right so x *back to feeding cattle*

Me: x

They worked. A few cracks, but oh… so… softly-crunchy-melt-in-your-mouth-delicious.
He told me that if that is all he got for Christmas, he’d be one satisfied farmer.

Here’s the recipe. Very simple….just don’t overwhip and if you have a fan oven start at 140 and turn down to 130.

Farmer’s Meringue

Makes 4 Large “Farmer Size” or 8 Small Meringue Nests

2 Large eggs

4 oz/110 g caster (superfine) sugar

Preheat oven to 300F/150C /Gas Mark 2

Place the egg whites in a large bowl and, using an electric hand whisk on a low speed, begin whisking. Continue for about

2 minutes, until the whites are foamy, then switch the speed to medium and carry on whisking for 1 more minute.

Now turn the speed to high and continue whisking until the egg whites reach the stiff-peak stage.

Next, whisk the sugar in on fast speed, a little at a time (about a dessertspoon), until you have a stiff and glossy mixture.

Spoon 8 heaped dessertspoons of the mixture on to your baking sheet lined with parchment paper, spacing them evenly.

Then, using the back of the spoon or a small palette knife, hollow out the centres.

Don’t worry if they are not all the same shape – random and rocky is just right.

Next, place the baking sheet on the centre shelf of the oven, immediately reduce the heat to gas mark 1, 275°F (140°C) and leave them for 30 minutes.

After that, turn the oven off and leave the meringues to dry out in the warmth of the oven until it is completely cold (usually about 4 hours).

Serve topped with cream and fresh fruit or berries!

The winner of the beautiful book, A Taste of Cork, is Annetje Roodenburg!  Congratulations Annetje and thanks again to everyone else who left a lovely comment here. Annetje, please email me at imen.producer@ireland.com with your mailing/postal address.

Nollaig Shona Duit,

Imen

Photos and Styling by Imen McDonnell 2011 {Shot with Loftus lens Hipstamatic}

Tags: A Taste of Cork, American, christmas, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, holiday, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Martha Stewart, meringue, Nollaig Shona Duit, pavlova, roulade