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.

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

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

Naturally, I had to crack the clotted cream. It was only a matter of time. My reasoning? Well, we do live on a dairy farm for god’s sake. The only question remaining is: what on earth took me so long. After dipping into a tub made by a fellow farmerette at a recent photo shoot, there was no stopping me.  To put it plainly, the flavour and texture of homemade clotted cream is absolute pure ambrosia.

The first time I tasted clotted cream was at a little afternoon tea party that I organised for a dear friend’s engagement. It took place in the very unlikely, but ultimately ohhh sooo perfect, Murray’s Steakhouse “Home of the Silver Butterknife Steak”. Murray’s is a supper club and cocktail lounge in downtown Minneapolis which opened in the 40’s and is so authentically retro that the dining room is darkly lit even during their lunchtime service. As I recall, the main room is adorned in mirrored walls, chandeliers, salmon pink draperies, and wall to wall carpet with art deco patterning. I wanted to plan something really unforgettable, and just knew Rebecca would love a bit of a mad tea party with all of her girls. Murray’s was the only place that offered such a service at the time. Don’t ask me why.

We all showed up in our frocks and sipped tea and champagne, pawed at dainty cucumber sandwiches and gobbled down white scones with clotted cream and jam in the lowly lit room for over two hours. It was not The Plaza, and no one wore white gloves, but it sure was divine.

After I was living in Ireland for a couple of years, I decided it would be nice idea to invite my mother and sister-in-law to an afternoon tea at Adare Manor. We arrived to the 1800’s Neo-Gothic estate and were seated in the tea rooms. From where I was sitting there was a picture window introducing a view of the most tremendous formal gardens behind one shoulder, and an enormous hearth fireplace that seemed so large that one could stand inside of it, beyond the other. A very reserved waiter served us Darjeeling tea with light egg + cress, salmon + crème fraiche, and ham sandwiches along with delicate cakes, scones, and petit fours. We were all spoiled with clotted cream on that day as well.

Today, I am in my very own kitchen with a pinny making clotted cream from scratch. Didn’t see that happening in my lifetime, but must admit, I am delighted with my success. It’s not difficult, but when you make it for the first time, it’s very easy to get the feeling that it’s not working. I also made the mistake of thinking that the cream underneath the crust was the actually clotted cream. It is not. That crusty golden top is just that, pure gold.

Clotted cream is not Irish, but I would venture to say it features on all formal afternoon tea menus across this fine country. It is mostly associated with dairy from the southwestern part of England; and in particular the counties of Cornwall and Devon. In fact, Cornish Clotted Cream is another one of those protected foods (PDO) so long as the cream is from Cornwall.

My clotted cream proudly comes from milk from our happy Irish Dunmoylan cows, but you don’t need a dairy farm to make it from scratch. If you can get unpasteurized, unhomogenised cream from a local dairy that would be ideal, but if not, use double or heavy organic whipping cream.  Don’t ask yourself why you’re making clotted cream, just do it. And bring it to a friend’s house with homemade scones on a sunny afternoon, it’s a slice of heaven.

Homemade Clotted Cream

Preheat oven to 100C/200F

1000ml/4 cups double or heavy cream (unpasteurised is best)

Pour the cream into a heavy bottom shallow pan. I used a stainless steel roasting pan.

Put it in the oven

And, forget about it for 8-10 hours

When it is done, it will have a thick golden crust forming on the top, like this

Take it out of the oven and let it sit in a cool place for 10-12 hours

Remove the “clouted” top with a slatted spoon, put into jar(s) and place in refrigerator for 2-3 hours

The clotted cream will last for 3-4 days

You can use the reserved cream underneath for other purposes if you wish…such as baking scones!

Slather on scones with jam.

{you will thank me}

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos + Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

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

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

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)

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.

So, we went off-farming for a week.

A much needed dalliance;

a celebration of sorts.

With the team at home looking after the cows, chickens and renewables,

they graciously sent us on a journey down to the Costa Del Sol, Spain…

Where there was an endless blue sky

brimming with sun every day.

We feasted on food fresh from the sea

And shared tiny, creamy, gooey, exotic cakes for two each afternoon

And then,  early one morning…

We crossed the Strait of Gilbraltor

over to North Africa

Landing worlds away

in extraordinary Morocco

filled with sights, sounds and colours

that linger on in our senses…….

And,

still make us smile.

We have come home to a busy farm

Spring calving has begun

And, there is a bucket of catching up to do.

Promise a farm fresh post next week, but until then…

The winner(s) of The Slugs and Snails tights are:

Bec Hem and Evin O’Keefe

Thanks to everyone who submitted a lovely comment.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos by Imen McDonnell 2012

The first time I heard the word Blaa, pronounced “Blah”, I was instantly reminded of our good friend, Gregory. Gregory is a talented screenwriter who has a magnificent way with words, yet in conversation, is quite fond of trailing off his sentences with an endearing “blah blah blah” while still managing to be a charming intellectual. When you move to another country, these are just the types of nuances you miss…the little things…..the blah blah blahs.

The Irish Blaa is a gorgeous yeast bread roll which originated in County Waterford, and is anything but blah. It is the only indigenous Irish yeast roll in existence, and is used primarily as a filled sandwich. After trying a Blaa in Dungarvan a few years ago and loving the flavour and texture, I was thrilled to find the recipe in Niamh Shield’s brilliant cookery book, Comfort & Spice. And just so you know, yes, the dough takes its sweet time to be oven ready, and, yes, it is well worth the wait because these rolls are really some kind of wonderful.

I recently learned that the Waterford Blaa is being considered for the status of European Protected Geographical Integrity that will prevent any similar products produced outside of Waterford being given the same name. The Waterford native Blaa differentiates from a regular bap due to the dusting of flour on top before baking. The Blaa is also free of any preservatives, which means many of the reported 12,000 Blaas produced daily are consumed by Waterford City by lunchtime.

If the EU protected status is achieved, each bakery producing Blaas will under go an annual verification process, which will include a thorough traceability of all ingredients and an inspection of the production method involved in producing the Blaa. Furthermore, The Blaa will be only one of five Irish food products enjoying such status.

We used our freshly baked rolls to make baby Blaas sliders for supper last night which brought a smile to everyone sitting ’round the farmtable…

Niamh’s Blaa recipe from Comfort & Spice

Makes 8 Rolls

10g active dried yeast

10g caster (superfine) sugar

500g extra strong white flour, plus more for dusting

10g sea salt

10g unsalted butter

Dissolve the yeast and sugar in 275ml lukewarm water. Ensure that the water is warm, not cold or hot. Leave for 10 minutes. It should get nice and frothy, indicating that the yeast is alive and well.

Sift together the flour and salt, to introduce air. Rub in the butter. Add the wet to the dry ingredients and mix until combined. Knead for about 10 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic. It will go from rough to shiny.

Place in a bowl, cover with cling film, and leave in a warm place for45 minutes. Remove from the bowl and knock back , pushing the air out the dough. Rest for 15 minutes, to give the gluten time to relax; this will make shaping easier.

Divide the dough into eight pieces. Roll each piece into a ball. Rest for five minutes more, covered.

Dust a baking dish with flour and place in the balls, side by side. Dredge with flour. Leave in a warm place for 50 minutes. Nearly there! Preheat oven to 210/410f/gas mark 6.5. Dredge the blaas with flour for a final time and bake for 15-20 minutes.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012