"There is no love sincerer than the love of food."

"There is no love sincerer than the love of food."

George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman

One of the things I miss most about Ireland was the ready supply of Irish brown soda bread with every meal or tea.  So, though it isn't paleo, I decided to attempt to make my own to go with my chicken soup tonight.  I found so many recipes online like this one, this one and this one.  I didn't really like any one specifically, so I cherry-picked a little from each and this is what I came up with.

IRISH BROWN SODA BREAD

3 cups whole wheat flour

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 1/2 to 2 cups buttermilk

2 tbsp butter, melted

1 tbsp molasses

1 1/2 tsp finely ground sea salt

1 tsp baking soda

Preheat oven to 375ºF.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Whisk both flours, salt and baking soda together in a medium bowl.  Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients.

Mix 1 1/2 cups buttermilk, melted butter and molasses together.  Pour into the well of dry ingredients.

Use a fork to mix the wet and dry ingredients until it becomes difficult, then begin mixing with your hands.  You will need to start slowly adding the last 1/2 cup buttermilk, 1 tsp at a time.  Once most of the flour is pulled together, dump the dough out onto the counter and knead a few times until it forms a ball.  It will still feel fairly dry, and will be flaking off in places.

Place the dough ball on the parchment-lined baking sheet and score dough with a sharp, serrated knife in a cross pattern.

Bake at 375ºF for about 40 minutes, until the outside has browned lightly, and tapping results in a somewhat hollow sound.

Let cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to finish cooling, unless you want to eat it warm!  Consume with IRISH butter (Kerrygold, found in most grocery stores) and IRISH jam (probably found online, though I got mine in Ireland).

**This bread can also be made without the molasses and it still tastes good, just less rich, and you may want to cut the salt to only 1 tsp.

Thankful Thursday: "It looked like an old painting, but real..."

"It looked like an old painting, but real – everything achingly idyllic in the morning light – 

and I thought about how wonderfully strange it would be 

to live in a place where almost everything had been built by the dead."

John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

This week I am thankful that I was able to take a trip to Dublin, Ireland with my friend AB last week.  I had a wonderful time, saw many beautiful things and places, learned so much about the history and culture of Ireland, had a few interesting encounters, and cannot wait to go back and share it with AC and SC.  I am thankful that I have returned safely to my family, and that the travel itself was unexceptional, though I did return with the flu.  However, I am thankful right now that it seems to be almost over.

What are you thankful for this week?  Leave a comment, then check out:

Top Ten Tuesday: "...a picture of Dublin so complete..."

"I want to give a picture of Dublin so complete 

that if the city suddenly disappeared from the earth 

it could be reconstructed out of my book."

James Joyce, 1918

This Tuesday I am traveling on the second leg of my trip back from Ireland to home and I wanted to feature ten things I now know about Dublin/Ireland, that hopefully others can find helpful in future travels.

1.  Coffee on the menu does not mean coffee beans, it means espresso beans.  If you want something akin to coffee, they will make you an "americano," which is espresso and water.  Also, many people drink tea with meals (and tea time), and most restaurants and shops have whole leaf tea as well as bagged.

2.  You can get delicious homemade Irish brown soda bread with everything and at almost every restaurant and pub.

3.  People generally walk on the left side, just like driving, but not everyone, and it can cause chaos trying to do it "right."

4. People almost never wait until the green signal appears to cross, but dart out into the road as long as there is just enough space to clear an approaching vehicle.  However, they generally do all cross at the crosswalks.

5.  The small, winding roads that go through smaller towns are as narrow and fear-inducing as they appear to be on television.

6.  The Dublin Bus is a great way to travel around the city, and even to some of the more distant suburbs, but having a bus app that works without internet access is a must.  I really liked Dublin Buster Lite.

7.  There is so much incredible literary talent coming from Ireland, past and present, that extends beyond the well-known authors of James Joyce, W.B. Yeats, and Jonathan Swift.  The Dublin Writers Museum did an excellent job of presenting the cannon of Irish authors.

8.  Most of the major national museums are free to get into, and a number of the other museums and galleries offer discounts for students and children.

9.  Even if the temperature is the same as the day before, it can feel much colder if the wind is blowing, necessitating extra layers, gloves and scarves.

10.  Ireland became the Republic of Ireland much more recently than I realized, and I feel an odd kinship to the Irish people I did not expect, now knowing more about their struggles.  It actually sparked within me an interest in delving into specific details about the American Revolution, because I really only know the basic facts that are taught in history textbooks.

Plus a tip about tipping: it is almost never done in Ireland, and servers/waitstaff will give the oddest looks if told to add a gratuity amount to the total bill, or to keep the change.

I had a wonderful time in Dublin, but did not get a chance to see everything I really wanted to.  It is a city literally filled with rich culture, and a week was only long enough to pique my interest (though definitely long enough to miss AC and SC).  I cannot wait to one day bring them along and share new experiences in Dublin, and this is one of the few places I think I could eventually see myself wanting to move to (along with Whistler, Canada).

Have you traveled anywhere interesting recently?  Leave a comment, then check out some more Top Ten Tuesday posts here:

"...come to this hallowed place Where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon..."

Tomorrow morning I leave to spend a week in Dublin, Ireland with my friend AB, so the blog might be quiet (though I am working on convincing AC to write a guest post - we shall see).  I hope to have a wonderful time seeing a new city, experiencing a different culture, and having time to relax, laze about and just read.

In honor of the trip, I wanted to share a poem I like from WB Yeats, an Irish poet and playwright, that I felt was fitting, both for my journey to Ireland, and for my traveling companion.  Hope you enjoy it!

"The Municipal Gallery Revisited"

William Butler Yeats, New Poems (1938)

I
AROUND me the images of thirty years:
An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side;
Casement upon trial, half hidden by the bars,
Guarded; Griffith staring in hysterical pride;
Kevin O'Higgins' countenance that wears
A gentle questioning look that cannot hide
A soul incapable of remorse or rest;
A revolutionary soldier kneeling to be blessed;

II
An Abbot or Archbishop with an upraised hand
Blessing the Tricolour.  'This is not,' I say,
'The dead Ireland of my youth, but an Ireland
The poets have imagined, terrible and gay.'
Before a woman's portrait suddenly I stand,
Beautiful and gentle in her Venetian way.
I met her all but fifty years ago
For twenty minutes in some studio.

III
Heart-smitten with emotion I Sink down,
My heart recovering with covered eyes;
Wherever I had looked I had looked upon
My permanent or impermanent images:
Augusta Gregory's son; her sister's son,
Hugh Lane, 'onlie begetter' of all these;
Hazel Lavery living and dying, that tale
As though some ballad-singer had sung it all;

IV
Mancini's portrait of Augusta Gregory,
'Greatest since Rembrandt,' according to John Synge;
A great ebullient portrait certainly;
But where is the brush that could show anything
Of all that pride and that humility?
And I am in despair that time may bring
Approved patterns of women or of men
But not that selfsame excellence again.

V
My mediaeval knees lack health until they bend,
But in that woman, in that household where
Honour had lived so long, all lacking found.
Childless I thought, 'My children may find here
Deep-rooted things,' but never foresaw its end,
And now that end has come I have not wept;
No fox can foul the lair the badger swept --

VI
(An image out of Spenser and the common tongue).
John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought
All that we did, all that we said or sang
Must come from contact with the soil, from that
Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong.
We three alone in modern times had brought
Everything down to that sole test again,
Dream of the noble and the beggar-man.

VII
And here's John Synge himself, that rooted man,
'Forgetting human words,' a grave deep face.
You that would judge me, do not judge alone
This book or that, come to this hallowed place
Where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon;
Ireland's history in their lineaments trace;
Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends.

**Blessings to you all for 2013!  Please leave a comment and share your own favorite Irish poems, authors, quotes or sayings.