One of the best bits about the holidays for me is all the baking and confections of the season. It’s the one time of year where you are likely to throw caution to the wind, indulge in all the festive sweets that your heart desires and chalk it up to holiday spirit. I personally think that is A-OK. That is, until the first day of the New Year when I can’t seem to fit into my stretchy yoga pants.

Over the weekend, my little baking assistant and I made magnificent mince pies. I discovered that these savory/sweet tiny tarts are perfect for little hands to help out with, and Geoffrey had loads of fun rolling then cutting out circles of pastry and spooning the mincemeat into each little case to be topped off with a star. Later we packaged the pies up all pretty and brought them across the road to share with family. They went down a treat and Geoffrey was delighted with himself.

I must say, mince pies in Ireland are so perfectly dainty and elegant looking. Even if you don’t like mincemeat, it’s impossibe to not pick up a parcel of these eye-catching pies delicately sprinkled with powdery icing sugar. They just seem to jump out at you when you’re browsing the market, oozing the essence of Christmas.

The beauty of mince pies came as a surprise to me, however, as, unless I am mistaken, you would be hard pressed to find mince pies trimming the aisles of every supermarket  in America at this time of year. (or any time of year, really) Remarkably, my grandmother made mincemeat pie for Thanksgiving every year as a part of her trinity of classic tarts: apple, pumpkin and mincemeat. Still, I do not recall witnessing a mince pie at a friend’s home nor a bakery or grocery store in the States. I remember as a child, we considered mincemeat pie extremely old-fashioned because only the adults took a slice for dessert. In our naïveté, we also thought it very strange that people would eat a ‘meat’ pie after a massive meaty meal.

At the weekend, my wee assistant and I will be hitting the kitchen again and attempting to make meringues for the first time. The recipe looks uncomplicated, but I’ve been told that either you can make them or not. I’m hoping for the former. Wish us luck!

Now, for more exciting holiday pressie news!  We put all the butchery course entries into a big milk pail and the farmer drew a name last evening. And, the winner of last week’s holiday giveaway is…drum roll please….Kristin Jensen! Congratulations Kristin, leave it to my farmer to pull another expat out of the mix! You will be joining me on 21st Feb at 6:30 and we will butcher the night away! Will be sending more details via email soon. Thanks so much to everyone for leaving a comment, even if you didn’t win a place on the course, I would encourage you to still sign up…it will be an excellent opportunity to learn about butchering techniques and where our meat comes from!

For my second lovely Christmas giveaway, I am very excited to announce that I have a stunning book from The History Press Ireland up for grabs. A Taste of Cork, A Gourmand’s Tour of its Food and Landscape by Seán Monaghan and Andrew Gleasure captures Cork’s rich and diverse landscape and presents it in a whole new light, combining the spectacular scenery with the artisan gourmet food producers who are so much a part of the culture. The book features Ummera Smoked Products, Cork’s English Market, Ardrahan Farmhouse Cheese and Lullaby Milk, McCarthys of Kanturk and many, many more sensational artisan food producers and beautiful Cork scenery. Leave a comment to be included in the draw. I will ship internationally!

Irish Mince Pies

For the homemade mincemeat

1lb sultanas

1lb beef suet (or a shredded veg suet)

8 oz mixed peel

2 oranges, juice and rind

6 tbsp brandy or cognac

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp mixed spice

1/2 tsp ground ginger

1lb raisins

2lb brown sugar

1lb cooking apples

2 lemons, juice and rind

1 tsp nutmeg

1/2 tsp ground cloves

In a large bowl, mix together all the dried fruit, suet, sugar and spices. Grate the apples and add in along with juice and zest from oranges and lemons.  Add brandy. Leave for 24 hours, then put into pots and seal.  (makes 8-10 jam jars)

For the pastry

200g/7oz plain flour, sifted

40g/1½oz caster sugar

75g/2¾oz ground almonds

125g/4½oz unsalted butter, diced

1 large free-range egg, beaten

milk, to glaze

Lightly butter a 12-hole pie/shallow muffin tin. Tip the mincemeat into a bowl and stir so that the liquid is evenly distributed.

Place the flour, sugar, almonds and butter in a food processor and process briefly until resembling breadcrumbs, then slowly add the egg. (Or rub the butter into the dry ingredients by hand and stir in egg)

Bring the mixture together with your hands, wrap in clingfilm and chill for an hour or so.

Thinly roll out the pastry on a floured surface. Cut out 12 circles with a fluted pastry cutter, large enough to fill the base of the prepared tin. Press gently into each hole, then fill with spoonfuls (as you like) of the mincemeat.

Cut out another 12 slightly smaller discs and 12 smaller stars and use to cover the mincemeat. Press the edges together to seal. Brush lightly with milk. Chill for about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 200C/400F/Gas 6.

Bake the pies for 20-25 minutes until golden brown. Remove to a wire rack and serve warm with lashings of brandy butter.

Happy Holidays!

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos & Styling by Imen McDonnell 2011

Tags: A Taste of Cork, American, christmas, farm, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, History Press, holidays, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish food photography, James Whelan Butchers, mince pies, mincemeat

I love gingerbread at this time of the year. Not the cookies. Not the houses. The kind of gingerbread which is more like a cake or a loaf. The kind of gingerbread that you slather deep and thick with homemade butter. Sweet, but not too sweet…more like a tea cake. In my producing days, a post production house in London once sent me a holiday gift of Grasmere gingerbread and the memory of that flavour still lingers on. In fact, it has persuaded me to bake at least one batch of gingerbread for the holidays each year here at the farm.

Since I was doing a charity butter-making demo last evening in Tipperary, I decided it would be festive to bake up some gingerbread to bring along to share with the audience. Once I had the honey-rum butter made, it could be lashed onto squares of gingerbread and passed around the audience. The response was overwhelming. The recipe requested. I was going to post about mince pies today, but they will have to politely wait their turn until next week.

In other news, I am crazy thrilled to announce the first of 3 holiday giveaways that I am doing on the blog this year. Weeee, I feel like Oprah! Giving is far superior than receiving at Christmas, such a wonderful feeling.

So, first up, with a million thanks to Pat Whelan, and following on in the spirit of celebrating Tipperary Food, is a FIRST CLASS BUTCHERY COURSE at James Whelan Butchers in Clonmel, County Tipperary on 21st of February at 6:30PM.  You will join myself and 10 other students to learn all about the meat, where it comes from, how and when it is used along with a range of hands-on butchery skills. James Whelan butchers are fully trained skillful professionals, well-versed in all aspects of cutting meat and the aging process. An in-depth insight into the techniques of cutting beef, lamb, pork and bacon will be covered on the evening.

During our summer in America, I was inspired by so many brilliant artisan butchery classes on offer around the USA that I really wished I could have participated in….now here’s my chance, and yours! Leave a comment below and I will be drawing a name next week.

My Holiday Gingerbread

350g/2 1/3 cups plain flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda/baking soda

3-4 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp allspice

8 globes preserved stem ginger in syrup, drained and chopped

125g/ 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened, plus extra for greasing

100g/ 1/2 cup light muscovado sugar (brown sugar can substitute)

50g caster sugar

225g/ 3/4 cup golden syrup {there really is no substitute for this recipe}

1 organic egg, beaten

75ml/3 oz milk

Grease and line a loaf tin with non-stick baking paper. Preheat the oven to 160°C (320F)/fan140°C/gas 3. Sift together the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda, ground ginger and allspice. Set aside. Chop 4 globes of the ginger and add to the flour mixture. Finely slice the remainder and set aside.

Melt the butter, sugar(s) and golden syrup in a small pan. Set aside to cool slightly (this should take about 15 minutes)

Beat the egg and milk together. Stir the cooled syrup into the dry ingredients, followed by the egg and milk and beat well. Spoon into the tin and arrange the remaining ginger overlapping on top. Bake for about 1 1/4 hours until just firm to the touch. Cool on a wire rack.

Enjoy warm with lashings of butter and a cup of tea, coffee or a big glass of cold milk.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell

Tags: butchery course, farm, Farming, food, foodie, foodies, Grasmere, holidays, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish food photography, James Whelan Butchers, London, love, Oprah, Pat Whelan

A couple of weeks ago, Richard asked me if I’d help out with herding a group of cattle. The cows were going from a paddock about three kilometers up the road back down to the home farmyard. He just needed someone to block off one of the lanes along the route until he passed through with the girls.  Of course, I said no problem. I was delighted to give him a hand.

He explained that all I had to do was simply drive up to the crossroad near the graveyard and park the car three-quarters across the lane so that traffic would not be able to get through. He instructed that if someone came along, I would just need alert the driver to the fact that cattle would be crossing soon. No bother. Easy enough.

I swiftly pulled my hair into two braided pigtails, slipped on my lovely new wedge-heeled wellies brought back from NYC, grabbed my rain slicker and off I went out the door with a big smile on my face.

The minute I arrived at the crossroads, it started bucketing down rain. That was okay because until I suspected the cows were coming I could sit in the toasty car and page through my new Make Bake Love cookbook in search of something lovely and sweet to bake for tea that evening.

However, within minutes, cars started approaching from front and back. I was popping in and out of the car and letting drivers know what was going on. No sooner was I back in the car when a new vehicle would drive up again.

For some reason, every single person that I spoke to seemed to stare at me in disbelief as I shared the reason why I was blocking the road. I knew it was an inconvenience, and I was making apologies, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the look on their faces actually had anything to do with the cow-crossing situation.

Did I look suspect wearing my elevated wellies? My bright, flower patterned jacket? Perhaps the mere fact that I probably over-explained things a bit {as we Yanks tend to do} seemed peculiar. I’ll never know, but I suddenly felt very self-conscious as I stood there in the rain waiting on the cows with cars piled behind me on the road.

Finally, I could hear hipping and hollering from down the way. They were coming! We waited. And waited. Hipping and hollering carried on, but still no sight of them. I glanced back at the waiting drivers. I was soaked to the skin. Then, after fifteen more minutes, I began to hear the loud clicking and clacking of hooves and I spotted Richard, running fast and leading the girls who were following behind him like lightning. It was quite a sight to behold.

And just like that, the cows passed, the cars peeled out of sight, and I was on my way back home.

I believe I’ve advanced one step closer to becoming a cowgirl.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell

Tags: American, farm, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, foodies, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, irish foodies, Kilcolman, love, marriage

You know the how. The where. The who. I would like to share the why behind this blog. It’s time. I’m gonna get down, dirty and frankly, a little emo here so if you can’t hang, scroll down to the cake recipe and eat cake. That’s what I’d do.

I have been writing here for just over two years. If you have been following along, this wasn’t always an entirely food-related blog. I did like to blather on about food..here and there…but as deliciously indulgent as those posts were, it wasn’t initially the gist of it.

My focus was on the humorous, quirky treasures that are part and parcel to marrying an Irish farmer and navigating a new life in the Irish countryside. Part comedy and part scan of my life through two lenses: city + country/American + Irish and seeing bits of colour in the everyday routine of Irish country living that others might miss along the way. Eventually, I turned to traditional Irish cookery and baking, a delicious way to explore and embrace my newly adopted culture…..either that, or a damn good excuse to enjoy sinful delights like this or this on a regular basis.

BUT, it didn’t start that way either.

Rewind to confession (well, we are in Ireland): My first blog post was a complete rant.

A full-blown, sad, depressed, lonely, mofo angry, soliloquy of my life that evening. My husband was still not home at 9:30pm, pretty standard at the time. It was my 5^th day spent inside alone with our little boy while it bucketed rain outside and made the windows so blurry you couldn’t see out. It was probably the 10^th night we had eaten supper without daddy. Once Geoffrey was in bed, I opened my computer and began typing…well, pounding, on my keyboard. IT IS 9:30PM AND MY FARMER IS STILL NOT HOME. ALONE AGAIN. THIS IS WHAT IT IS REALLY LIKE. I AM MILES AWAY FROM CIVILIZATION. IT IS NOT IDYLLIC. I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS. &%£%@$&!!!. Then I deleted it. Then I cried. No, not cried. I bawled. My brains out. Like a little girl who lost a puppy. I hurt.

Suddenly, I had realised that somehow in 4 fast years, life as I knew it had completely vanished.

Poof. Gone. Forgetaboutit.

Life 2005-2009

• Full of absolute confidence and adulation, I left a flourishing career, loads of friends, family, my dear kitty, my cute convertible and a lovely walk-up. Yep. Picked up sticks, moved to Ireland and married the love of my life.
• Morphed into a mummy in a new country without said family and friends.
• Designed and self-built a home on the farm (note: do not attempt this)
• My father became unexpectedly ill and within three months he died.
• I died.
• Then started this blog.

Yes, I died. A lot. Moving abroad, marriage, motherhood, building house were definitely challenging, but losing my father nearly killed me. And that fateful night at the computer, the weight of it all hit me like a ton of bricks.

Roughly one year earlier, on September 13^th, 2008, my dear dad left this world. I held him in my arms with my head resting on his chest as he took his very last breath.

I don’t remember much that happened in the year after that except that my in-laws were very kind and they whisked myself and Geoffrey off to Spain with them for two weeks immediately after we returned from the States so that we wouldn’t be alone so much. Richard had taken 6-8 weeks away from the farm to be with us that summer and he would be working very long hours upon our return. The only other memory is of soaking Richard’s neck with tears each and every night for at least 8 months as I unsuccessfully tried to go to sleep. I couldn’t stop ‘hearing’ my father’s last breath. And I couldn’t stop thinking about every last detail of that summer. Nor did I want to.

We had arrived stateside on June 10^th. I knew my dad had not been feeling well. He had been undergoing tests of every size, shape and acronym. The next day, he had a follow-up appointment with a specialist and I accompanied him. He had undergone a small procedure on his kidney and when we sat down in the examination room the doctor informed him that it had went as planned.

Then, the doctor put an X-ray up on the wall which lit up like an Irish country night sky all filled with starry constellations. I stood up in front of my father and quietly asked the doctor, “what are all those pretty bright spots?” He gravely replied, “You’re going to stay here all summer, right?”  I stood there staring at those stars for what seemed like an eternity while tears silently ran down my cheeks and my throat throbbed like I had swallowed a large boulder.

Two days later we were escorted into an oddly luxurious chemo suite.

Three weeks after, I moved into his hospital room with him as he fought infection.

Radiation.

Surgery.

Chemo.

Emergency Room.

Home.

Hospice and the “Comfort Kit”

Last breath.

In the two weeks before he died, I began a feeding frenzy. Looking back, I am sure it didn’t help matters. But, my dad was going to die and I wanted him to eat all the foods he loved before it was over. Plus, my denial/fix-it mind kept telling me he needed more food. Needed to put on weight. It was ridiculous. I begged him for requests. I fulfilled each of them and then some. Lasagne, pizza, ice cream, kneecaps from Jerry’s Bakery, German Chocolate Cake. I fed him with a spoon. I remember he was exceptionally pleased with his chocolate cake even though he could only manage a bite, maybe two.

There is so much to tell about my father. And, so much to tell about that last summer. Maybe I will share more as time goes on. But for now, I want you to know that this is why I began writing here. I needed an outlet. To share the good. To leave the sad behind. Even if I didn’t know it at the time, this diary gave me one more reason to carry on, to look at the positives and laugh a little, to have company when the farm kidnapped my husband for 16 hour days….to adjust to all the crazy changes life can throw your way in such a short period of time.

But most of all, it has helped me to heal and to come back to life.

Thank you for being on this journey with me.

Now, have a slice of my dad’s cake.

It will make you smile. I promise.

Dad’s German Chocolate Cake

Makes one 3-layer 9 inch cake

Ingredients

1/2 cup water

4 (1 ounce) squares semisweet chocolate

1 cup butter, softened

2 cups white sugar

4 egg yolks

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup buttermilk

2 1/2 cups cake flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

4 egg whites

Filling/Frosting

1 cup white sugar

1 cup evaporated milk

1/2 cup butter

3 egg yolks, beaten

1 1/3 cups flaked coconut

1 cup chopped pecans

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease and flour 3 – 9 inch round pans. Sift together the flour, baking soda and salt. Set aside. In a small saucepan, heat water and 4 ounces chocolate until melted. Remove from heat and allow to cool.

2. In a large bowl, cream 1 cup butter and 2 cups sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in 4 egg yolks one at a time. Blend in the melted chocolate mixture and vanilla. Beat in the flour mixture alternately with the buttermilk, mixing just until incorporated.

3. In a large glass or metal mixing bowl, beat egg whites until stiff peaks form. Fold 1/3 of the whites into the batter, then quickly fold in remaining whites until no streaks remain.

4. Pour into 3 – 9 inch pans Bake in the preheated oven for 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Allow to cool for 10 minutes in the pan, then turn out onto wire rack.

5. To make the Filling: In a saucepan combine 1 cup sugar, evaporated milk, ½ cup butter, and 3 egg yolks. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly until thickened. Remove from heat. Stir in coconut, pecans and vanilla. Cool until thick enough to spread.

6. Spread filling between layers and on top of cake.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos & Styling by Imen McDonnell. Dedicated to Alfred M. Wozney 1935-2008

Also, a special thank you to Damien Mulley for encouraging me to share.

Tags: chocolate cake, dad, Farming, food, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish

A few weeks ago, I blogged about one of my favorite autumn traditions in America: sipping apple cider and nibbling on cider doughnuts at the local apple orchard or pumpkin patch. Some of you may have already seen + heard me carrying on via Twitter or Instagram sharing our happy success with, “Rosie”, our charming new fruit press, and the first batches of pressed cider here at the farm this week. And, yes, we sipped cider with doughnuts by the turf fire immediately! Now all is good in the world.

Some excellent questions popped up during my initial exploration into cider making, a fellow blogger asked, “So, what is the difference between apple cider and apple juice anyway?” Of course, my farmer questioned how/if we could make batches of boozy cider with our apples and new press. {In case you were wondering, YES, WE CAN!}

The truth is, fresh cold-pressed apple juice is nearly the same as apple cider. It can be made any time of year when apples are available, but is most commonly pressed in the autumn when apples are plentiful. Cider and juice are both made in the same way, but the difference is that apple juice is pressed and strained through a thinner mesh than cider. Cider tends to be cloudier and darker in colour than juice and has a more tart and raw flavour than the juice. Also, the bottom line is, depending on the quality of apples, which vary from year to year, the taste, sweetness and consistency of apple juice and cider can vary widely.

Alcoholic cider or perry (pear-based cider), an institution in Ireland, UK and France, is made by fermenting the juice after pressing, either by a naturally occurring fermentation or by adding a yeast strain.  This type of cider is one of my favorite drinks here on the isle, something that was new to me when I first arrived in Ireland & which I took an affinity towards….rather quicky. Fermented alcohol cider, such as Bulmers or Strongbow have dry, complex flavours and are not sweet. Perfection. I have also just learned of a new craft cider in Ireland called Stonewell which we will be sampling soon.

Thankfully, this type of cider libation has also been making a comeback stateside. In doing my cider research, I discovered that during the 18^th century, hard cider was actually the drink of the people, from farmers to fighting men, and deservedly so as President John Adams himself drank a tankard of cider every day. Children drank a less potent version, called ciderkin.

However, when the Germans arrived in America, beer fell more into favour and after the prohibition, cider was virtually nonexistent. Now, with wonderful artisanal ciderys cropping up across the country such as Bellwether and Tieton, the cider tradition is swiftly being reborn in America.

Whether a warm mug of autumn apple cider or a cold glass of dry {alcoholic} cider suits your fancy, I say long live apple cider!

I am thrilled to announce that we will be packing up “Rosie” and heading to Kilkenny at the weekend to press cider at Savour Kilkenny, a fabulous food festival in it’s fifth year running. Please come along and sample a taste of sweet cider with me in the Forgotten Skills tent on Parade Plaza from 11:30AM on Saturday. I’d love to see you there! There is an amazing schedule of events at the festival including food demos by Donal Skehan, Catherine Fulvio and Edward Hayden. The Great Irish Food Debate, a panel discussion about whether or not ‘Irish Cuisine’ exists will take place during the Food Camp on Friday, and reknowned American food writer/food historian and founder of Saveur magazine, Colman Andrews, will be weighing in. Not to be missed!  www.savourkilkenny.com

So, here’s how we made our apple cider:

Procure a mix of apple varieties. Apple juice tastes much better if sweet, tart and fragrant apples are mixed together. We used the two types of apples that we currently have in the small farm orchard: Bramley and Pippin varieties. Yields can vary widely, but as a general guide, 20 lb/10kg apples will yield a gallon/4 litres of juice.  Wash the apples by running cold water over them and removing any dirt or other contaminants. Remove any obviously rotted or discolored parts of the apple. Be cautious when using apples that have been picked up from the ground after falling from the tree as these will require extra cleaning to remove possible contaminants. Never use “ground apples” from an area where livestock graze.

Chop and mash the apples. For larger quantities, an apple chopper is the easiest method. For smaller quantities, you may use a food processor, meat grinder, or just cut the apples into very small cubes. I used our food processor. Do not worry about stems, seeds or peels–they can all be included in the mash. (I originally cored all the apples, a waste of time!) 

Insert a mesh bag into the fruit press. Our model came with a two bags. Bags with larger diameters are used for cider, while a smaller mesh will product a more juice-like product. Place a large pot under the spout of the fruit press to catch the juice as it is pressed.

Fill the fruit press with apple mash. Add 1 tbsp. lemon juice, if desired, to help reduce oxidation ofthe apple juice. Apples and apple juice, will react with oxygen and produce a brownish color. Lemon juice will lessen but will not eliminate this effect.

Tighten the fruit press to begin the flow of juice. Keep tightening the press until the flow of juice comes to a halt, which takes approximately 10 minutes. The pressed mash can be composted, discarded or fed to local wildlife or in our case, resident donkeys, Conor and Cormac.

Pour the apple juice into plastic or glass containers. Drink. If you plan to freeze the juice, fill the containers three-fourths full, to allow room for expansion.

If the apple juice has not been heated, it will keep in a refrigerator for one or two weeks before yeast naturally present in the juice starts the fermentation process.

APPLE CIDER DOUGHNUTS

Makes Approx 20 Doughnuts

1 cup granulated sugar

3 large eggs, at room temperature

1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted

¼ cup buttermilk

½ cup apple cider

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

4 cups all-purpose flour

4 teaspoons baking powder

2 teaspoons cinnamon

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon allspice

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup sweet apple finely chopped

Topping

1 cup granulated sugar

2 teaspoons cinnamon

Mix 1 cup sugar and 2 teaspoons cinnamon in a brown paper bag. Set aside.

To Make the Doughnuts

• In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat eggs and sugar until thick and creamy
• Add the melted butter
• Combine the milk, cider, and vanilla. Set aside.
• In another bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, and salt
• Alternately add the flour and milk-cider mixture to the eggs, beginning and ending with the flour. Combine thoroughly.
• Fold in the apple
• Turn out the dough onto a large piece of parchment paper.
• Fold the paper to cover the dough and place in freezer for 30 minutes. Dough will be very sticky but will become workable after it firms up in the freezer.
• Roll out firm dough on a lightly floured surface ½-inch thick.
• Cut 2-1/2-inch circles with 1-inch center holes (or use a doughnut cutter). Dough will be soft, which makes light, tender doughnuts when fried.
• Let cut doughnuts rest five minutes on a cookie sheet.
• Heat 3 to 4-inches oil to 360 degrees in a large pot.
• Fry three to four doughnuts at a time for about 1-1/2 minutes per side or until golden brown. (Be sure to maintain the temperature of the oil, lowering or raising stovetop heat accordingly).
• Shake fried doughnuts in the cinnamon sugar mixture.
• EAT IMMEDIATELY WHILE SIPPING WARM APPLE CIDER! (do not take snaps, if you want to see what they look like, here’s a great example)

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos by Imen McDonnell.

Tags: apple, Bellwether, Bulmers, Catherine Fulvio, cider, Colman Andrews, Donal Skehan, doughnuts, ebay, Edward Hayden, Farming, food, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Saveur, Savour Kilkenny, Smitten Kitchen, Strongbow, Tieton

Clockwise from the top: Glebe Brethan Gruyere, Figs {graciously donated by Avoca}, Cooleeney, Cratloe Hill’s Sheeps Milk Cheese, Cashel Blue, Beal Organic Cheddar, St. Tola Goat’s Cheese.

Yes, it is true. I have become a bit obsessed with all things dairy as of late. Butter, raw milk, cheese, cheese and more glorious cheese. I confess, I have become a born-again cheesehead and this is for a perfectly good reason: one of Ireland’s best-kept secrets is that this beautiful “food island” is awash with absolutely amazing artisanal cheeses that you simply cannot ignore.

Of course, I felt it was my obligation to share just a few {which had nothing to do with my luxurious sampling of each and every one of them over wine, figs and crackers for an entire week…no, no, no…not at all} so that you can celebrate this cheesy goodness with me as well.

And while I don’t have any recipes to share with you for this blog post, I hope to do so in the future as my farmer and I are taking a cheese making course here this summer.

So, without further adieu, I invite you to indulge in a few of these special cheeses along with so many more that Ireland has on offer…

Cooleeney is a soft mould ripened cheese, with a beautiful creamy texture and a distinctive aftertaste. This cheese is produced on the Maher farm in the heart of Tipperary where the pastures are rich and are surrounded by damp boggy land an environment which allows the Mahers to produce Cooleeney which, when mature are creamy and oozing with the flavour of one of the finest cheeses.

Glebe Brethan is an artisan cheese made from unpasteurised Montbeliarde cows’ milk at the Tiernan Family Farm, Dunleer, Co. Louth, Ireland. The pedigree cows graze on lush pastures and are fed cereals grown on the farm. It is a gruyere-type cheese made in 45-kilo wheels, which are matured on spruce timbers for 6-18 months. It is carefully hand-turned and salted to form a natural rind, which enhances its unique flavour.

St. Tola Cheese has a unique and distinctive flavour that owes much to the clean fresh environment in which it is produced. The 65 acre organic farm provides herb rich grass and hay for the goats. The St Tola Herd comprises of Saanen, Toggenburg and British Alpine Goats approx 220 in total – a mixture of milkers, kids and pucks. Every year the herd increases by keeping the offspring from the best milkers while retiring goats and their kids are given away as family pets or sent onto Bothar.

Cratloe Hills Sheep’s Cheese was the first Irish ewe’s milk made in modern times. The Fitzgerald family milks their herd of pedigree Friesland ewes from March, after the lambing has finished, until September when the ewes get a much-deserved winter break. The lightly waxed cheese is matured for between 2 – 6 months. The young cheese has a semi-firm texture and a light caramel taste and a slightly dry finish. As the cheese ages, the texture dries slightly and the flavour becomes more robust. Enjoyable with a light wine such as Beaujolais or Chateau Filliol.

Cashel Blue is a semi-soft blue cows’ milk cheese. It is unique, as it is Ireland’s first farmhouse blue cheese. It is all made on the dairy farm of Jane and Louis Grubb nr Cashel in Co. Tipperary Ireland. While some milk is purchased, the majority of the milk comes from the pedigree Friesian dairy herd on the farm. The cheese is made from pasteurised whole milk. It is sold in many speciality outlets in the U.K., United States and Ireland, as well as being listed by most of the British Multiples. Much of the cheese is sold young, while it is firm and crumbly, but for a fuller flavour it is best eaten at about three months of age, when it has a softer texture and more mature flavour.

You can find these cheeses and many more at Sheridan’s Cheesemongers, Fallon & Byrne, Superquinn, Avoca and other shops and restaurants that support local cheese producers in Ireland.

Collins Press has sent me a copy of this lovely new book: Irish Farmhouse Cheeses, A Celebration to share with one lucky reader! Please leave a comment below to be included in the drawing…just tell me why you love Irish cheese, what your favourite Irish cheese is or why you’d love to learn more about these magnificent cheeses. I will happily ship this gem throughout Ireland and abroad.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photography by Imen McDonnell

Tags: Beal cheese, Cashel Blue, cheese, Cooleeney, Cratloe Hills, Farmhouse, food, food island, foodie, Glebe Brethan, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Married an Irish Farmer, St. Tola

Over the summer I had a taste revelation: After 6 years of Irish living, I discovered that my palate for beef had been altered. I had seen it coming the previous summer stateside, but this year, it was settled.

It happened as I was having dinner with friends at one of those very serious steakhouses, of which I would go as far as to label an American beef eater’s institution in a stodgy old men’s club sort of way. Not my style whatsoever, but places like this had always satiated my periodic craving for a good ole juicy, rare-ish New York Strip or Porterhouse chunk of beef.  These hankerings only seemed to escalate after I left the USA, eventually putting a standing appointment with at least one good steakhouse on our calendar each time we make our way across the pond.

As I eagerly carved into my magnificent looking steak topped with a generous dollop of melted butter and then carefully placed a dripping, beautifully fragrant, bite-sized piece into my mouth….BOOM, it hit me. I looked to my friend with a puzzled face and asked, “How does yours taste?” She was too busy squealing in delight over her beefy feast to answer me and I took the hint. It was at that moment that I realized that I preferred the flavor of Irish beef to the standard, USDA, dry-aged, center-cut of Angus beef that lie before me. I was stunned.

To be frank, when I first came to Ireland, I just did not care for the flavor, texture and smell of Irish beef. Of course, initially I put it down to ‘everything in from my home country is better’ a common conviction that many expats sadly fall prey to when upping sticks and moving abroad. You learn swiftly, that things are just different, not necessarily better or worse.

While we are primarily a dairy and poultry farm, we do raise some cattle for our own use here at home. In my first few years in Ireland, each time I tried the beef from the farm or any other place, I remember thinking that the taste was very unusual. Irish beef had a fuller, meatier flavor than what I was accustomed to and this was not appealing to me for a long time. What I didn’t realize until recently is that I was simply used to grain-fed beef, as so many Americans have been, which is very different to the flavour of natural grass-fed beef in Ireland. My tastebuds were accustomed to something else completely.

Recently I had the opportunity to go along with Bord Bia, the Irish Food Board, to a Chef’s Irish Beef Club competition at Chef Sache in Cologne, Germany. I jumped at the chance to get up close and personal with Irish beef and see how chefs in other countries are passionately putting it to use.

It wasn’t surprising to learn about the Chefs’ Irish Beef Club, which is made up of top European chefs who prefer to use beef reared in Ireland because of its quality and value. Still, I wasn’t aware of this group beforehand, and because of my summertime taste revelation, I was especially excited to go along and be a part of this celebration of Irish beef.

Chef Sache is a symposium that showcases top European chefs, many of which are Michelin starred (of the food, not tyre variety).  It is also trade show featuring top-quality food producers and products from around the world, including Bord Bia approved Irish beef.

Bord Bia sponsored a Chefs’ Irish Beef Club competition at the event whereby contestants were required to create a prime Irish beef recipe that would be prepared, served, tasted and judged by a panel of renowned European chefs. The grand prize: A guided tour of Ireland, visiting leading farms and a fabulous dinner at Chapter One in Dublin with Ross Lewis.

I looked on in anticipation as each young chef cooked up something more and more magnificent. My two favorite preparations involved Guinness and turf. The first, and also the judge’s choice, was a Guinness-injected (yes, with a syringe) tenderloin of Irish beef. The second was a massive rib-eye, wrapped in turf and cooked in the sous vide manner, then sautéed in brown butter before serving. Both tasted and looked absolutely amazing.

I may not be a chef, but I am now definitely a full-fledged member of the Irish beef club.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell . Guinness injected beef tenderloin by Christoph Pentzlin

Tags: Bord Bia, Chef Irish Beef Club, Chef Sache, dry-aged beef, food, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish beef, Irish food photography, Married an Irish Farmer, USDA

 I had forgotten. There is simply no better way to rekindle your love for the beauty of Ireland than to entertain visitors from abroad.  This week, we welcomed very special friends from the USA. After an eagerly anticipated farm tour, we each sat down to a warm bowl of Irish stew accompanied by chunky slices of freshly baked brown bread.  In between bites, we mapped out our very ambitious tour of the country. As you do.

The next morning, we got an early start for Kerry, an easy day trip from our neck of the woods. Weaving through the Killarney National Forest and around the Ring of Kerry, many oohs and aahs could be heard from our happy and awestruck passengers sitting beside us in the car. Despite witnessing this beautiful landscape on numerous occasions myself, I too could not resist marveling at the stunning reeks and rugged panoramas unfolding along the way…takes my breath away time and time again.

At one point during our Kerry expedition, the most beautiful grey fawn stepped out onto the road in front of the car. This is something I hadn’t experienced before on that route; luckily we were driving very slow and carefully so she was able to daintily sidestep to the other side of the road, no doubt looking for her mother. Later that evening, a fox with a very large fluffy red tail scurried across the road in the dark, a common sighting for us as well, but to our friends: novel.

Each time we have company from America we often hear comments like “ I love all of the privately owned shops lining the streets of towns and villages, they seem to really know their customers, you just don’t see that anymore back home”. There is also always an affinity towards ”all the wonderful real butcher shops and fishmongers” that aren’t the norm in America anymore. {though they appear to be attempting a comeback thankfully} Ireland always seems to take people back to a time and place where things were just a little more humble and a little less la-di-da.

Despite having sunshine for the first few days of the trip, the Irish rain made its obligatory appearance. Still, our guests were unbothered and delighted to keep touring. When we reached the top of the Cliffs of Moher {pictured above} on an impossibly wet and wild afternoon, it was declared that it was absolutely worth it. The rain and fog had only added to the dramatic and stunning spectacle, and the chill we felt was nothing a hot cup of tea couldn’t remedy.

Subtle differences were noted. Things like the fact that there are no electrical outlets in Irish bathrooms, potatoes of some shape or form are served with every entrée and that coffee is served after dessert not alongside your yummy last course {all of which were unusual to me in the early days as well} were observed, made sense of and hastily shrugged off.

We drove across the country and back again, discussing everything from how the Irish do funerals to matching car registrations with counties and what goodies we might find at Avoca if we have time to stop again. And, a line that was repeated more than once, “We could live here…..”

I know the feeling. 

To my mind, nothing beats a hot bowl of Irish Stew in the autumn/winter…here is my recipe, a hybrid of all the recipes and preparations I’ve enjoyed while living in and travelling around the country. I love adding parsnip and rosemary which is not customary, but adds more depth of flavour.

 Our Irish Stew

 3 tablespoons Olive Oil

1½ kg/ 3lb 5oz Lamb Shoulder Chops or Mutton Neck Chops

3 carrots cut on an angle or a 10 whole baby carrots

10 Baby Onions or 4 medium onions quartered

2 parsnips peeled and cut into quarters

8 potatoes peeled or 10 baby potatoes peeled

Sprigs of rosemary finely chopped

Salt & Pepper

600 ml chicken or lamb stock

Glass of dry white wine

Sprigs of thyme

1 tablespoon chervil (or parsley) chopped

1 tablespoon chives chopped

Preheat oven to 160c/325f

Cut the chops in half, do not remove bones as they add flavor.

Heat oil in large casserole until very hot, toss the meat in the

olive oil until browned, take out of the pan and then cook the

onions, parsnip, rosemary and carrots in the hot oil or fat for

a 2-3 minutes, seasoning with salt and pepper.

Add the meat back into casserole.

Place potatoes into casserole (if using baby potatoes wait 30 minutes into cooking time before putting them into casserole).

Add the stock, wine and thyme and cover.

Simmer gently either in an oven at 160c/325f until meat is tender, about 1 ½-2 hours.

Remove from oven, pour off the cooking liquid and, degrease, season if it needed and pour back over the stew.

Add chopped herbs and serve.

Makes 6-8 generous bowls.

*To degrease the juices, if you do not have a maisgras, add a couple of ice cubes to the strained liquid – the fat should rise up to the top, spoon it off and discard.

Enjoy!

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell

Tags: autumn recipes, Cliffs of Moher, farm, Farming, food, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Irish stew, Kerry, Killarney National Forest, rediscovering Ireland

There was a time, pre-Irish farm life, when the term foraging was designated to sample sales or an early opening at Saks’ Off 5^th on a Saturday morning. Things are much different for me here in the Irish countryside. Foraging has become a weekly part of life it seems, as I pack up our son each weekend to go hunting and gathering for all things edible around the farm and down by the wood along the river when the weather permits.

This weekend we were finally able to pick some wild blackberries, although it was lean around here as the weather hasn’t cooperated much this season. We also spotted quite a few ripened sloes which are a month early, again due to weather conditions.

Last year at about this time, Justin and Jenny Green of the incredible Ballyvolane House were perfecting their Hedgerow Martini, which, of course, sparked my curiosity. A hedgerow martini is basically a combination of fruits and berries picked from the hedge, mixed with gin or vodka and then shaken, not stirred.  This year I thought I’d give it a try myself since we have sloe gin on hand from last season and fresh blackberries as well as loads of elderberries on the tree outside the farm kitchen window.

We have visitors arriving today so hopefully a wild foraged martini will go over a treat before dinner this evening.

We made our way down to our secret foraging location…

And we were delighted to see our first ripe blackberries at last!

Puree some blackberry and elderberry,

then mash them through a sieve,

and pour into the bottom of a jam jar & cover with a handful of ice

Add in your sloe gin, shake and pour into the glass of your choice

garnish with more blackberries and elderberries..maybe a leaf or two

And then, Sláinte!

An Irish Hedgerow Martini

One handful of blackberries

One handful of elderberries

1 tbsp caster sugar

½ cup of sloe gin (to taste and comfort level)

½ cup of ice

1 jam jar

Puree blackberries and elderberries with sugar in a food processer. Push mixture through sieve to remove seeds. Pour into bottom of a jam jar, cover with ice and then sloe gin, then shake and pour into glass of your choosing. Garnish with elderberries and blackberries.

Drink.

PS. You could use any foraged fruits or herbs from your area for this cocktail.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos & styling by Imen McDonnell.

Tags: Ballyvolane, blackberries, elderberries, farm, Farming, food, Food photography, foodie, foraging, gin, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, martini, Saks, sloe

It’s decided. I’m going to greim an piléar (bite the bullet) and learn the Irish language. I mean, if I had moved to any other foreign speaking country I would have to learn the native language, right? So, why not do so here in Ireland where Gaeilge is meant to be Ireland’s first and official language.

But, there are many reasons for which to decide to learn Gaeilge, not the least of which is the fact that our little boy is coming home with more and more Irish homework. And I will admit it: I haven’t a clue as to what these new words mean, how they are pronounced, and I certainly have no idea how to go about helping him with writing or spelling this new arsenal of Irish grammar he is being introduced to each day.

As commander-in-chief on the homework front, I feel obliged to know what in the world this boy is learning and saying to me. Therefore, I feel it’s only right that I learn along with him. This dawned on me the other afternoon when we sat down together with a workbook called Bun Go Barr. He also had this book in Junior Infants last year. To my mind, I figured it had to do with baked buns and chocolate bars. In reality, Bun Go Barr translates to the phrase ‘bottom to top’. Not as much fun, but definitely has more of a learning connotation to it.

As Geoffrey worked on his assignment, I couldn’t help but feel a bit perplexed. Not only did I not understand the words, but I also couldn’t identify some of the images that he was working with, as can be the case occasionally. It is not unusual for him to know be familiar with a line drawing of something like a scone and for that not to register immediately with me as an example of an everyday symbol. (Now if it were a doughnut, I’d catch on straight away)

There have been a few instances like this where I find myself feeling very silly not being able to help simply because there are subtle cultural differences like this. Imagine how awkward it can be when you add in my lack of understanding a lick of Irish. This is why I must learn.

As a foreigner living in a country where you often see words in Irish, but do not know what they mean, you can start to get funny notions in your head about their definition and how they are pronounced. I’ve written about this before, but it happens time and time again. For example, I recently met a lovely young woman named Sile. Luckily, I was informed just a few days before our meeting that her name was the Irish spelling of the name Sheila. Beforehand, I had been referring to her as “SY-LE” like style without the T.  Mortified.

As much as it would be fascinating to go off and do an immersion course in the language, it is not an option for me to get away like that nor is it necessary. I will be learning right here at home using an online learning program, which will teach basic Irish words and conversational skills, including greetings and introductions, simple questions and answers. I will also be learning with Geoffrey and leaning on the rest of our family along the way too.

So, that’s the craic. I will keep you posted on my progress along the way!

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Tags: Farming, Foghlaim na Gaeilge, food, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, Irish food photography