Yesterday was a red-letter day at Castle Argghhh! Not only did I stir up the Lost Causers, I checked another block, too.
My Rotary club hosts a Saint Patrick's Day Irish Stew dinner as one of our major fundraisers (we don't hold it *on* Saint Paddy's day because it competes with too much else). For the last five years, I've been "the garlic bread guy," responsible for procuring and preparing the bread. This is not difficult, really, just order up 40 loaves of sliced french bread, 10 pounds of butter, a jar of minced garlic, and some garlic salt (w/parsley), and then spend about three hours loading trays, buttering bread, slapping in the oven pulling it out, etc.
Except that the damn space between the ovens (commercial kitchen ovens) and the prep space are rather small when occupied by yours truly, the Incredible Bulk.
In Thomas Cahill's fun little book, "How the Irish Saved Civilization" (read the reviews, they're hilarious, too - the Irish bring out the polarizing filters, wherever they go) he talks about the "red sacrifice" and "green sacrifice" in the context of Christianity in Ireland. The Irish monks, having missed the "red sacrifice" of spreading the gospel out of Rome across Europe and the follow on to that, the Crusades, called their monastic lives (with beer) the "green sacrifice" as they eschewed the company of women (but not beer, some things simply take it too far).
Well, for the last five years I've been making the "red sacrifice" and managed to burn myself every time - last year it was on the last damn sheet pan to come out of the oven. Clearly, it is time for me to move on to other things - as I finally managed to run 42 sheet pans of bread in and out of the oven without burning myself last night. Free at last!
Speaking of free at last... As we continue the ramp-up to St Patrick's Day, we'll come at if from the Northern side.
My Rotary club hosts a Saint Patrick's Day Irish Stew dinner as one of our major fundraisers (we don't hold it *on* Saint Paddy's day because it competes with too much else). For the last five years, I've been "the garlic bread guy," responsible for procuring and preparing the bread. This is not difficult, really, just order up 40 loaves of sliced french bread, 10 pounds of butter, a jar of minced garlic, and some garlic salt (w/parsley), and then spend about three hours loading trays, buttering bread, slapping in the oven pulling it out, etc.
Except that the damn space between the ovens (commercial kitchen ovens) and the prep space are rather small when occupied by yours truly, the Incredible Bulk.
In Thomas Cahill's fun little book, "How the Irish Saved Civilization" (read the reviews, they're hilarious, too - the Irish bring out the polarizing filters, wherever they go) he talks about the "red sacrifice" and "green sacrifice" in the context of Christianity in Ireland. The Irish monks, having missed the "red sacrifice" of spreading the gospel out of Rome across Europe and the follow on to that, the Crusades, called their monastic lives (with beer) the "green sacrifice" as they eschewed the company of women (but not beer, some things simply take it too far).
Well, for the last five years I've been making the "red sacrifice" and managed to burn myself every time - last year it was on the last damn sheet pan to come out of the oven. Clearly, it is time for me to move on to other things - as I finally managed to run 42 sheet pans of bread in and out of the oven without burning myself last night. Free at last!
Speaking of free at last... As we continue the ramp-up to St Patrick's Day, we'll come at if from the Northern side.
Irony of Ironies, you put a post on Northern Ireland and I put up one regarding Ulster mythos heh!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=touKOK_FtfQ
Boys that wore the Green - inspired by the 69th and the New York Fire Zouaves.
(I picked up a while back an entire CD of Kincaid's civil war songs - Boys that wore the Green and Free and Green are my two favorite)
This is a Castle that flies the 69th's flag from the pole on the 21st of July, beneath a burning sun.
Garlic bread at a St. Paddy's Day celebration? What are you part Eye-talian? An idea like that would have got you killed or at least seriously disfigured in any Catholic school.
11B40 - what can I say? Irish soda bread just doesn't go down well with all the germans around here. Leavenworth was heavilly settled by Germans fleeing the 1848 revolution.
But we're famous for our garlic bread.
So, she has some consistency issues.
'Sides, you *want* my garlic bread. Ask SWWBO.
"'Sides, you *want* my garlic bread. Ask SWWBO."
Garlic bread? Is that what you are calling your little soldier nowadays?
*running for cover, popcorn is secured.*
There's only one menu for Saint Paddy's day: Whiskey, followed by Whiskey, with some beer for snackage, and Whiskey later on. Perhaps some corned beef, et all, but that's an American addition (not that there's anything wrong with that) of the New England Boiled Dinner (ask Maggie).
My mother was an O'keefe, her Grandfather coming from Cork, County Cork, to Australia, and my father snatching her from there to America. My sisters are Rebbeca Joett, Mary Kathleen, Jennifer Jean, Linda Maureen, and Patty Ann. My own kids are Katherine Mauvourneen, Sean Miles, and Shannon Maeve.
You can celebrate Ireland all you like, but if you bring out an orange cloth, be prepared to fight..
Just sayin'.......
Anyhoo, to "cure me" of my ill ways, I got shipped off to grandad's place for the summers of my middle school years.
There I learned that I was a Mac, not a Mick. If my grandad ever learned that I let someone call me a Mick without stomping a mud hole in their middle for it, he promised to "hurt me all day long and stand me in the *circle all night".
He was, basically, right. the branch of the MacKay clan (McCoy) that we came from traced all the way back to the brothers John and Alexander (both those names have been either first or middle names for every boy child in the family line since too) in 1750. That's as early as we can trace since their US records or info available in the US.
But, in tracing down the family line, we learned we have lots of Gillespies, O'Haras and such mixed in too. Heck, there's even a Saxon name in there. Not a saxon dirived name, but the name Saxon.
So, grandad, love you bunches and freely admit that it's because of you I didn't spend large chuncks of my life in prison or die young while doing something stupid, but, can't hate on the Irish 'cause I is part one. Sorry.
* The Circle was a 2 foot circle in the dirt that was used for lesson teaching. Grandad was a poker player. I didn't have money but he wanted to teach me either how to gamble or why I shouldn't gamble, depending on how my nerves played out. Turns out I don't gamble. Anyhoo, he'd play with cash, I'd play with time. Dollar an hour. Nickle ante stakes. For every dollar I lost, I spent an hour standing in that circle. Some of those games would go on from late afternoon to early morning. Longest I spent in the circle was 28 hours though, so I guess I wasn't losing too badly lol. Lesson worked too. To this day, the very thought of going to Vegas or some such place makes me break out in a cold sweat.
Anyhoo, St Patties day at this house is Jim Beam. I may have roots that go back to the old world, but I'm an American and I drink unpretentious and American Made.
Good think SWWBO isn't a vampire.