The Gift of the Irish

Every country has a culinary gift to humanity. Mexico has corn tortillas, Italy has pasta, Cuba has black beans and rice, and Morocco has preserved lemon. Israel has falafel, Ukraine has borsht, and let’s not forget Japan’s artistry of sushi. Did you know Peru’s national dish is ceviche? Just thinking about the tart lime juice marrying with peppers as they gently cure spoon-sized pieces of fish for a delicious appetizer makes my mouth water. And where would we be without French baguettes? Such a delicate combination of crusty outer with airy soft inner is the perfect friend to anything from soft cheese to remnants of a hearty stew at the bottom of a bowl that just can’t be wasted. Oh, wait, what about Pho? The pure dish of Vietnam that, after enjoying with chop sticks and slurping of the bowl, makes you feel like you will live to be 100. It’s so good.

And then there’s Ireland and the potato. Where would we be without the potato? For those of you who feel like no meal is complete without a potato, I’m your voice. Hamburgers without fries? Forget it. Pot roast without mashed potatoes? What world are you living in? And, if you’re like me, au gratin potato says, “I’m in heaven” even when paired with cheerios or celery sticks. Considered the most uninteresting food by some, potatoes complete the plate. The Irish were the first to see the value of the potato. In the eighteenth century, Irish farmers recognized their soil quality was made to grow potatoes. Potato crops emerged strong and soon Ireland became associated with their one crop wonder.

My mom was born of Irish immigrants, and my dad’s family (so they say), were once great bakers of Ireland (hence, I love bread). Our family exuded Irish in all ways. We laughed, we hugged, and we loved toasting one another. However, for those who share Irish culture with me, you know that trial and tribulation often seems to threaten joy; which brings me back to the potato.

By the mid 1800’s, Ireland’s single crop of the potato dependence was severely debilitated. Over a seven year period of time, one million people died from starvation due to an infestation of mold that tainted the potato fields; a testament to how important the potato was to the Irish economy. Every aspect of their life was jeopardized. The country was down and out in profound ways. Despite it all, Irish spirit, even when seeped in adversity, was lifted by joy.

And that brings me to St. Patrick’s day, the day everyone likes to be Irish. There’s something so endearing about what it means to be Irish. Fun loving, embracing, warm-hearted, and enduring are all Irish attributes. It’s why we all wear green, after all.

This St. Patrick’s Day, I think about my dad singing the old Irish ballad, “Danny Boy” in his heart stopping acapella. I think about my mom making corned beef and cabbage with potatoes (of course) in a on pot culinary wonder reminding us of our heritage. I’ve continued that tradition each year while I recall my mom’s smile; her eyes framed by delightful wrinkles born from authentic life.

So, I’m excited to share in Irish solidarity. I will be wearing green and have the fixins ready to prepare a dinner which will celebrate my big, extended, and generations-old Irish legacy. I’m already imagining the potatoes with slices of tasty corned beef and cabbage topped with some salt, pepper and hearty slab of Irish butter. As my dad would say as he lifted his glass of scotch to celebrate the moment, Slainte.