Feed me — 9 Comments

  1. The technical term for waving your hands around while talking bollocks is testiculating.

  2. Can I suggest that you try adding chilli powder to your bolognaise? Really perks it up. My own version of “spaghetti bolognaise” is more like a beanless chili con carne, served with pasta instead of rice. Nice and spicy!

  3. To paraphrase some other scribbler:
    The man who is tired of an Irish diet is tired of life. (but will probably live longer).
    Which I am sure does not apply to you. The tired of life bit, not the other.
    Irish food is to die for. The best beef, mutton, pork, and seafood. A plethora of breads, scones, farls, pancakes, cakes, bracks, wheatens, pastries. All with the best of butter. And maybe bramble jelly.
    And the morning glory – an Ulster Fry.
    The land that gave us ” come on now, eat up. You’re at your aunties. ” as you slacken your belt another hole, until you run out of holes, and undo the top button of your trousers.
    And proper Guinness, and Murphy’s, and Jamiesons, Bushmills, Power’s, Tullamore, Connemara, etc.
    Life is too short and the Gubment’s duty (pun) is to kill joy.

  4. You say you don’t ‘do’ food, yet casually mention making a banana sandwich like it’s not cordon blue…
    I just love my banana sarnies with strawberry jam!

  5. The diet seems to change in every Irish county. Killarney particularly good in my view for eat out. The biggest city has a surprising quantity of fruit (whatever that is) on menus, and up a bit there’s the Ulster Fry as the excellent Doonhamer has mentioned.
    It’s hard to imagine a time when it was samey across much of the island.

  6. For a warm, or hot, snack, try fried tomatoes, with a dash of soy sauce, in toasted sandwiches. Filling, warming, and, with the vitamin B12 in the tomatoes, very healthy. It’ll have herself doing a jig soon afterwards.

    • It’ll have herself doing a jig soon afterwards” I’d have to increase her sedatives after that?

  7. From all the above, it looks like the local cuisine’s moved on a bit since the potato blight. Every cloud, as they say . . . .

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