Mmmmm. Fresh yogurt. Crunchy granola. Boo Berries.

BUT, before I go into all of that crazy goodness, I’d like to express my GINORMOUS thanks to all that voted for this blog in the Saveur Magazine Best Food Blog Awards. Voting is closed and the winners will be announced on May 3rd. If you voted, it was very generous and kind of you, if you didn’t, I get that too; signing up to vote in a contest is not everyone’s cup-o-tea. I’m just delighted that you take the time to read my funny little country-living/food-loving diary. It’s a labour of love.

I really must say that I am especially grateful to Bord Bia {the Irish food board}, Marie-Claire Digby of the Irish Times, The Irish Farmer’s Journal and Irish Country Mag, along with the amazing food and blogging community in Ireland who shared an overwhelming show of support in getting the word out about this nomination. If there is one thing I have noticed that Ireland does with great pride and enthusiasm, it is supporting the people, places or things they believe in. To receive this gesture of support as an American living in Ireland is something to relish; it is heartwarming and very special to say the least. Plus, it goes a long way in making an oft homesick expat feel right at home, and that is enough of a win for me! Thank you.

I apologise for not having a post up sooner. As luck would have it, we’ve had sketchy internet. I am not going to flannel on about it, because we are lucky that we even have a fast internet connection most of the time. This was not always the case. When I moved here just a few years ago, there was dial-up. The kind where you hear the dial tone and worse-than-nails-on-a-blackboard screeching sounds. Now, we have wi-fi, but the router is located in the cowshed at the upper farmyard because it picks up a better signal from there. Which is brilliant, until rains too much {cough} we don’t get a signal. Yes, it rains fairly often. (see Fair Weather Friend)

So. Homemade yogurt. Something I probably would have never dreamed of attempting, but when you have an Irish dairy on your doorstep and the nearest supermarket is 3/4’s of an hour away, it makes no sense whatsoever NOT to milk it. This post is not groundbreaking. There are already bags of other food blogs + websites featuring DIY yogurt. It’s like a bubbling pot of live bacteria out there. So, I am not going to claim that my version is the best, but I do know that our 6 year old prefers it over fromage frais which is nothing short of monumental. I personally think the trick is vanilla bean. Takes down that tang.

And, besides the cracking taste; other mightly fine reasons for making your own yoghurt are:

1. It’s healthier as it contains no extra preservatives, sugars or additives {i.e. gobbledy-gook}
2. It’s less expensive {even if you’re not farming}
3. It’s friendlier to the environment {no trees will be harmed}

As far as the granola, it’s as simple as A. my go-to gorgeous Kilbeggan Oats roasted with B. my beekeeping father-in-law’s happy honey, and C. a few other nutty & seedy bits and bobs thrown in for good measure. Of course, you can use any brand of oats and honey from the shop or market. Easy peasy.

Sharing these recipes can only mean I’ve formally become “crunchy” right?  Okay, maybe halfsies; I did go out to a fancy city dinner wearing makeup and Michael Kors last week, so perhaps I’m just a partial granola girl.

Either way, I’m down with it.

Are you?

Farmhouse Yoghurt

2 Liters or 1/2 gallon of milk

(I use full fat from our dairy for a delightfully creamy result,

but you can buy organic milk of any fat content from the

market as well)

125 ml/ ½ cup of plain yogurt

(to be used a starter, store-bought & must have “live bacteria

cultures” on label)

1 teaspoon vanilla pod seeds

Stainless steel saucepan

Candy Thermometer

Over low heat, slowly bring the milk up to 77°C/170°F in saucepan with a candy thermometer. Do not allow the milk to boil at any time. Once your milk reaches 77°C/170°F, turn off the heat and bring the temperature back down to 43°C/110°F. Once your milk has reached 43°C/110°F, stir a little bit of the warm milk into the 125 ml/½ cup of plain yogurt.

Pour the milk and yogurt mixture into to the saucepan and gently stir them together. Stir in vanilla seeds.

Now it is time to incubate the yogurt. You will need to keep it at a temperature of about 110°F for the next 4-10 hours. The length of time will depend on how thick and tangy you want your yogurt. The longer it sits at this warm temperature, the firmer and tangier it will get. Check the yogurt at the 4 hour mark for a taste and texture test, if you are pleased you can move onto chilling.

I recommend putting the lid onto the saucepan of yogurt, wrapping it up in towels and placing into an oven which was preheated to 50°C/120°F and then turned off. (You can try to maintain the heat in the oven by leaving the light on, which can generate enough heat to keep the yogurt active, but I find keeping the pan cosy in towels should do the trick). All ovens are not the same so play it by ear. I have also read about using a crock-pot, heating pad or, of course, a yogurt maker as well.

When the desired time is up, place the yogurt in the fridge to chill. After the yogurt is completely chilled, stir. There may be a film over the top, which you can eat or simply remove. Pour yogurt into airtight containers and store. (remember to save some to use as your next starter.) Then poon into a dish, cover in granola & fresh berries and DEVOUR.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen x

Photos and Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: Bord Bia, city, country life, farmette, granola, honey, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, Irish Food Bloggers Association, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Irish Times, Kilbeggan oats, Kinfolk, Michael Kors, yogurt

As I write this, the bread that you see in the above photo is quietly baking away in the oven. It is my brown bread candidate number ….emmm, I’ve lost track.  You see, it is not my first attempt at baking the perfect loaf of brown bread. In fact, it is one of many—today, and in a few more minutes, it will hopefully prove to be my final and triumphant crack at tackling the mystery of spectacular brown bread. This time, I pulled out all the stops. Yes, this loaf is running for the “President of the Brown Bread” here at our house. I’ve compiled recipes from Irish cookery books, bakers, relatives, even the back of a bag of Odlums flour. I’ve put on my imaginary lab coat and horn-rimmed glasses, evaluated my successes and failures and created a strategy. This attempt, I used a combination of farm honey, egg, buttermilk with three flours and baking soda. I also sprinkled the heck out of it with some magic fairy dust just for good measure.

There is a reason for all this madness. I have received no less than forty email requests for the “best brown bread recipe” that I’ve lost count, and it was time for me to do a little research and finally bake up a proper loaf for myself.

Irish brown wheaten bread {aka brown soda bread}, the one that is always served alongside those gorgeous velvety vegetable-based soups at pubs and cafes around the country is, as far as I can see, one of, if not thee most, cherished taste memories that tourists acquire when visiting Ireland. That unique nutty flavor with a crumbly, yet moist texture that plane loads of people long for after they’ve returned to their cosy homes abroad. I would very much like to create that same taste memory for our guests when they stay with us as well.

Don’t get me wrong; I have taken my share of homemade brown bread out of the oven when we have visitors. But, it’s no secret that somehow the morning slice served in our kitchen will not compare to what will be gobbled up later in the day when we are having lunch virtually anywhere else in the country. I must add that I am not afraid of bread making, in fact, I very much enjoy it. Over the last two years I have tried my skills at many styles of bread, and to my delight, have had mostly successes. Still, the perfect loaf of brown soda bread has eluded me.

Of course, I too, have a particular taste memory in mind when it comes to how this perfect bread should be. It can vary from establishment to establishment: some serve it more crumbly and dry, some moist, some adorned with oat flakes, some pale in colour and others more a deep rich brown, some seem grainy, some more firm, but my favourite is more cake-y with a slightly sweet aftertaste which I love. {I won’t drop any names, but that special flavour may or may not have been experienced in County Waterford}

In my attempts this week, I have tested several recipes. All of which are simple and all of which include bread soda, yet have quite a few variations. I have tried stone ground wholemeal flour, coarse ground wholemeal flour, a mix of stoneground wholemeal flour and cream flour, and plain whole meal flour. I’ve added bran. I’ve added wheatgerm. I have used fresh buttermilk and cultured buttermilk. I’ve included and not included black treacle, golden syrup and honey. I’ve sprinkled and not sprinkled.  Egged and not egged.

Only one version has hit the nail right on the head…and, it wasn’t that beautiful hopeful at the top of the page.

Finally….allow me to introduce: The President of Brown Bread in our kitchen.

This is not “my” recipe, it is “a” recipe for Irish Brown Bread using a combination of ingredients that are typical to traditional soda bread recipes, and for me, it has that perfect brown bread flavor and texture.

I am silly shocked and proud as punch that this blog has just been nominated for Saveur Magazine’s Best Regional Cuisine Food Blog of 2012. There is so much to celebrate in traditional Irish food, and as you can probably tell, it makes me very happy to share. Yipppppppeeeeeeee! Here is a link to more information and also where you can vote. The winners will be announced on May 3rd. There are bags of amazing blogs to peruse, so take your time and your appetite and have a good peek. Thank you so much for all of your support and readership! xoxox

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: brown bread, farm, Farming, foodie, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish brown bread, Irish country living, Irish food photography, irish foodies, King Arthur, love, Odlums, Red Mill, Saveur Blog Awards 2012, Saveur magazine, traditional irish food, Waterford, Wise Words

Spring has sprung on the craggy isle and riding along with it the familiar niggling notion that we’d better get sowing and hoeing.  Bit by bit, we’ve put together a garden plan which sounds really clever and grown-up, but basically involves two adult children sitting at a kitchen table scratching heads, scribbling notes, drawing makeshift pictures with crayons, vehemently disagreeing, and then once again concluding that Richard {i.e. stick person with wellies} will plant his potatoes and onions and I {i.e. stick person with a skirt} will carry on with the rest which will undoubtedly be far too many varieties in his “humble opinion”.

We are trying to be sensible and learn from previous years; what’s working {luckily, almost everything especially potatoes}, what to plant where, what didn’t grow {asparagus}, what grew too much for us to eat or store {squash, radishes} and the everlasting conundrum: how to keep the dogs, birds and insects from damaging the beautiful seeds of our labour.

This year, I think I have procured my best selection of seeds yet: among others-salsify, yellow strawberries, boston lettuce, white beets, mustard greens and most exciting for me: artichoke. Plucking the petals of a steamed artichoke and plunging them into a cup of creamy lemon mayonnaise or scooping up zesty dollops of artichoke ramekin using crusty chunks of baguette are two of my favourite summertime sports. Needless to say, I will be over the moon if the artichokes are a success as they are impossible to source in Irish markets.

We have also been trying to decide on adding raised beds or sticking with our tried and true, good old-fashioned ground beds. Lately the running pun is “to raise or not to raise”….which is nobler?

We moved into our own home on the farm in 2007 and planted our first kitchen garden two years later after completing a brilliant organic growing course booked through the Organic Centre and hosted by Jim Cronin at his farm in County Clare. Of course, Richard had some experience with growing his own vegetables when he was younger, but I certainly didn’t, and since the course was based on organic growing I figured it would be a great learning experience for us both.

Jim Cronin is a gentle, salt-of-the-earth farmer who believes in using basic principals for growing, even employing horsepower in lieu of fuel-powered machinery. He has been growing vegetables for over twenty years and his farm is certified to organic standards. He is a fountain of knowledge and a real congenial fella who taught us a lot and sent us home inspired.

The thing is, I distinctly remember Jim advising the class not to bother with raised beds; explaining that they were more cosmetic than anything and that they could potentially attract more pests to the garden, and by pests he meant SLUGS. It is altogether possible that I have recalled this very fact because he mentioned it during the lunch break, specifically when I was shoveling a forkful of his wife’s amazing shredded carrot salad into my mouth. Richard finished my plate.

Still, each time I see or read about a garden with raised beds, I can’t shake the idea that they would be easier to organise and maintain since we are not growing on acres of crops {I promise, we’re not!}. It would also be hard to deny that they might look a bit more attractive than our ground plot.  I decided to ask around for opinions, both professional and personal, to see who exactly was using raised beds, and why or why not?

Generally speaking, nearly everyone I spoke to was in favour of raised beds. Many reasons were given, most commonly: they are easier to weed, they provide better drainage, weeding can be kinder on the back muscles, not having access to good ground soil, living in the city so no other option for urban gardeners, and yes, {cough} because they look nice.

So, all things considered, we’ve decided to go ahead with the raised beds this year. And, since they look relatively easy to construct, I’m thinking I may just roll up my sleeves and do them myself.

Here is a recipe for one of my absolute favourite artichoke indulgences. It is the closest thing to the legendary Loring Cafe Artichoke Ramekin that I have tested.  It is creamy, zesty, garlic-y, artichoke-y heaven. I have many, many fond memories of sitting on the Loring patio sipping glasses of chilled Muscadet and devouring ramekins of this baked artichoke dip on sunny Saturday afternoons with a lively table of friends. Sadly, the original Loring is no longer there, but the Artichoke Ramekin will still live on here on the farm, so long as our artichokes are a success! {note: you can use jarred artichokes for this recipe and some think it’s even better than fresh}

Slan Abhaile,

Imen xx

Photo by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: American, artichoke, artichoke ramekin, farm, Farming, foodies, GIY, growing, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Minneapolis, Muscadet, raised beds, the Loring

I know, I know, yet another sinfully caloric, overly indulgent, sugary, post. Yes, but this time I have an excuse: Kiddos! We made these up on a Saturday morning after a little farmer’s sleepover and they went down a storm.

While my experiments in Irish baking seem to know no bounds, I like to think they are for the greater good as the fruits of my baking are ultimately bestowed upon hungry farmer bellies. While my amazing mother-in-law, Peggy, still prefers to prepare the large daily dinner feast for the men on the farm each afternoon, I contribute by way of baked goods and puddings. A win-win for all. We get to nibble a bit and then share with others. I have become convinced that baking and sharing is the key to a happy life.

These “Ballymaloe Balloons” were originally created by legendary Myrtle Allen of Ballymaloe House. They have since made their way into to both Darina and Rachel Allen’s kitchens + cookery book repertoires. They are quick and easy to make as they don’t include yeast so no need to raise dough, plus you don’t need a deep fryer, you can simply use a frying pan and flip them when golden. Roll em’ in sugar & cinnamon and serve immediately.

I am super excited to announce another fun giveaway, perfectly suited for this wintery time of year. A new Irish brand that I find innovative, creative annnnnnnd practical: Slugs & Snails tights for boys! I stumbled upon these beauties a few months ago and they made me wish I had a baby boy again. Slugs & Snails are a small family run business, which started in 2008 with the birth of their son, Noah. Living in an old house, atop a cold windy hill on the west coast of Ireland, keeping Kat’s newborn baby boy warm was a priority, and tights were the obvious solution, yet she simply couldn’t find any tights designed for little boys.

No stranger to farm living either, Kat and her family bought a farm in 2007 and have raised a pig, chickens and look after their vibrant veggie patch. Couple her country living background with the fact that she has used PacMan ghosts for one of her designs, and I immediately had to order a pair for my nephew-in-law!

Simply said, they ROCK.

PS. Girls can wear em too =)

Leave a comment below to win two free pairs of Slugs & Snails tights for boys, perfect for your baby boy or for a baby shower gift. Kat will ship internationally.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo by Imen. Styling by Geoffrey McDonnell and his sweet little hand 2012.

Tags: American, Balloons, Ballymaloe, boy tights, darina allen, farm, Farming, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Irish country living, irish food, Irish food photography, irish foodies, kids, Myrtle Allen, rachel allen, Slugs & Snails

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

In Ireland, school kids have a longer break during the holiday season. The little farmer was home from school from the 19th of December until the 9th of January. In the States, I believe most children head back to school sometime during the first week of January. This lengthy vacation seems to be justified by having a far shorter summer break, again, opposite of the American school system. {repeat mantra: tis different, not better or worse, tis different, not better or worse….}

The weather was too poor for assisting daddy on the farm, so let’s just say we had a lot of time on our hands here in the house. And too much time on our hands in the house = baking up a storm together (it also means dressing up our Airdale, Teddy, each morning; planning month-long trips to outer space, and building no less than fifty forts and obstacle courses…but, I digress).

Another new baking discovery for me here in Ireland is the beautiful Bakewell tart. Originating in Bakewell, England (thank you for enlightening me, Angharad), it is a firm fixture in bakeries, shops and cafes around this fair country as well.  The Bakewell tart (which would be called a ‘pudding’ if you were in Bakewell itself) is essentially a jam tart filled with a little almond-y (frangipane) cake on top. The story goes back to the 1860’s when a kitchen maid accidentally poured the almond mixture into a jam tart, a winning mistake if I do say so myself!  It’s modest: not too sweet nor gooey, and goes perfect with a cup of tea or coffee in the afternoon.

The first time I enjoyed a slice of Bakewell tart was in the sweet little cafe at Brown Thomas department store. On a Sunday afternoon city-fix with the baby farmer in tow, I collapsed in for a cappuccino. Upon spying a pear almond version of the tart in the pastry case, my nutty sweet tooth could not resist. The waitress brought a slice out topped off with a dollop of whipped vanilla cream and a persimmon on the side. The rest is history.

We decided to make a chocolate version since there are more than a few chocoholics at the farm and I thought it would be a nice treat. We baked a dozen tartelettes, had a little tea party and they were gone in a flash. Here’s the recipe:

Chocolate Bakewell Tart

Serves 4-6

For Pastry

75g/5 tbsp unsalted butter

140g/1 cup plain flour

25g/2.5 tbsp caster sugar

1 egg yolk

2 tbsp water

For the Filling

3 tbsp dark, chocolate grated

150g/2/3 cup butter

150g/2/3 cup caster sugar

75g/2/3 cup self-raising flour

3 eggs, lightly beaten

1 tsp vanilla

150g/3/4 cup ground almonds

grated zest of one lemon

3 tbsp lemon juice

6 heaped tablespoons of raspberry jam

icing sugar

Preheat oven to 220c/425F/gas mark 7

Work the pastry ingredients together to form a dough, and chill inthe fridge for 30 minutes Roll out pastry and use to line a loose-bottomed (springform) flan tin that is 25cm in diameter and 5cm deep (or 10 mini tart tins). Chill again and bake blind for 10 minutes.

For the filling, place the chocolate in a bowl over a pan of hot water then remove from the heat when melted. Cream the butter and sugar together. Fold in the flour, adding the eggs and vanilla extract, melted chocolate, ground almonds and lemon zest. Add lemon juice until the mixture is of a dropping consistency.

Spread the jam over the bottom of the pastry case, then spoon in the chocolate mixture. Bake for 15 minutes at 220c/425f/gas mark 7, then reduce the heat to 180c/350f/gas mark 4 and bake for a further 15 minutes or until the filling is cooked.

Sprinkle with icing sugar if you please.

Serve warm or cold with a big dollop of cream…and a persimmon on the side if you wish =)

I am very excited to announce that I have been asked to share recipes on Irish Abroad, a lovely online community for Irish expats, descendants and persons wishing to travel to Ireland…should be loads of fun!  I chose a classic Victoria Sponge for my first recipe, have a peek here.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos & Styling by Imen and Geoffrey McDonnell 2012

Tags: airedale, American, Bakewell, baking, Brown Thomas, farm, farmette, Farming, foodie, foodies, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish Abroad, Irish food photography, irish foodies, school holidays, tea, Victoria sponge

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

I once compared our crazy marriage to sherry trifle: there are lovely sweet creamy bits, some definite fruity parts and pieces that go down hard.

Trifle is a new holiday tradition for me here in Ireland. I’m afraid the closest we came to trifle at Christmas when I was growing up was probably something involving Jell-o, whipped cream and fruit….unfathomably, the liquor part never caught on at our family gatherings Stateside.

Since I am in charge of the turkey and trifle for this year’s Christmas dinner, I decided to try my hand at whipping up a bowl this afternoon using a combination of both my mother-in-law and sis-and-law’s recipes that we could taste-test before the big event. I need to be positive that it’s juuuuusst right, no? {cough}

Every year my mother-in-law makes what we like to call her “Pioneer’s Trifle”. Pioneer, because as a young girl she took a lifelong vow to abstain from drinking alcohol, which in Ireland earns you the ‘Pioneer‘ title.  And ‘Pioneer’s Trifle’ because:

Me: How would you describe your mother’s trifle?

Farmer: It’s a Pioneer’s Trifle.

Me: Why do you call it that?

Farmer: Because you wouldn’t want to be driving after eating it.

Her trifle is basically a massive jelly (Jell-o) shot with fruit and sponge suspended in it. The sponge has nearly disintegrated from being soaked in lashings of Sherry or Cognac. We spoon it up and serve it with a dollop of cream on top and it goes straight to your head. As far as the pioneer status? Eating alcohol is different than drinking it.

My lovely sis-in-law uses her own mother’s recipe which is a creamy, custardy version sans alcohol with fresh berries. Different, but equally glorious.

The hybrid of the two turned out positively divine. If you wanted less sponge, you could take out one layer. You can also omit the sherry or cognac, but I wouldn’t…

Next Wednesday, the 7th of December, I will be donning my butter apron for a fun holiday butter demo at The Tipperary Food Producers Christmas Cookery Extravaganza, taking place at the Clonmel Park Hotel in Clonmel, County Tipperary. The event features Rachel Allen preparing a variety of delicious dishes including her unique take on traditional Christmas favourites. Clonmel-based wine expert, Gary Gubbins of Red Nose Wine, will be giving guidance on wines to accompany the variety of dishes from the cookery demonstration. Doors open at 7:30PM. Homemade butter makes for a lovely edible Christmas gift! Come along to learn how to make your own and present it in pretty, festive packaging. I’d love to see you there =) xx

Holiday Sherry Trifle

Ingredients

600g/20oz Madeira or sponge cake, halved and cut into thick slices

300g/10oz fresh strawberries

6-8 tbsp sweet sherry or cognac

1.5 pints of prepared raspberry gelatin

500ml/ 2 cups thick custard, ready made or homemade

500ml/ 2 cups double or whipping cream, softly whipped

Handful, toasted, flaked almonds and fresh red currants

Directions

The trifle can be made in one large glass dish or into individual dessert glasses

Line the bottom of the dish or glasses with the cake slices.

Pour over sherry or cognac

Pour over cooled gelatin

Hull the strawberries and then layer evenly over the cake. Press lightly with a fork to release the juices.

Spoon over the custard in a thick layer.

Finish with a thick layer of whipped cream either spooned over or piped on using a piping bag

Decorate with toasted flaked almonds and pearls of red currants

Put in fridge to set for 2-3 hours before serving.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo and Styling by Imen McDonnell 2011

Tags: American, butter, christmas cookery extravaganza, gastronomic duo, holidays, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish food photography, irish foodies, love, pioneer, rachel allen, sherry trifle, tipperary food producers, trifle

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