I’m going straight to food hell. I think I may have just Irish-ised the S’more. Well, not officially, but when you tally up all the tweaks and titches I’ve tainted applied to the original All-American S’more ingredients along with the added Irish country “h” to make it a Sh’more, it’s pretty damned close. Save me.

A few things mashed up at the same time for me to arrive at the intersection of Ireland + S’more street. Firstly, I was driving Geoffrey to school one morning when he asked, “Mommy, can we have sh-teak for supper tonite?” I immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road where we had a calm little chat. I asked him to repeat what he had said. He repeated, “Mom, can we pleeeaaase have sh-tttteak tonite?”

I swallowed hard.

It was inevitable. He is acquiring that auld’ countryside colliquialism, common in the southwest and west of Ireland whereby the addition of ‘h’ can heard in the dialect. I saw it coming, and we’ve already been painstakingly practicing our lispy th’s, trying to avoid ‘tree’ for three or ‘turd’ for third, etcetera etcetera. And, I am well used to the dropping of the tt’s, as in li–le (little) or bu–on (button). But, now we have sh-teak. There are so many trees and turds and I don’t know if I can keep up. I know it’s part and parcel, but I refuse to  submit to the sht-eak.

Fast forward five days. I am asked by Irish food writer + advocate, Aoife Carrigy, to participate in her For Food’s Sake event at the Dingle Food Festival(if you haven’t been, book in for next year-accommodations go fast!). Basically, she invited a slew of food journalists, artisans, butchers and bloggers to meet her on the top of a big blue bus in the centre town and discuss food memories. Ummmmm, how fun is that?

After much deliberation, I chose to share a toothsome childhood treat which is near and dear to my heart: S’mores. 

Or as my son calls them, Sh’mores.

Geoffrey and I spent a day preparing tasty biscuit, chocolate and marshmallow bites to share with the audience. I even baked homemade graham crackers for the occasion. {okay, so I didn’t have a choice in that matter.} We decided to stage a mad campfire scene in which Geoffrey would sit holding a marshmallow on a twig and pretend to roast it while Woody Guthrie’s This Land Is Your Land played gallantly in the background. Kitschy and camp, but that scene sums up my memory of being 7 at Camp Tapawingo on a summer’s night, making s’mores over a blazing fire and singing songs with a group of fellow kiddy campers.

So,

1 colliquialism

1 food memory

2 homemade wholemeal graham crackers {using Dunany Irish wholemeal flour}

1 bar of Irish sea salt dark chocolate

1 American Jet-Puff marshmallow from a bag smuggled overseas in a suitcase or Marshmallow Fluff from Fallon & Byrne

1 “H”

Oh, and just for good {devilish} measure-

1 tsp of crumbled crispy streaky Irish bacon rashers

=

The Sh’More

Here’s how to do it!

Mini Sh’mores Tarts

(Makes 18-3″ fluted tarts (or 1 9″ tart)

1 cup graham cracker crumbs (I used this recipe with Irish Dunany Fine Wholemeal Flour)


2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted


2 tablespoons organic white sugar


150g dark chocolate, chopped (I used Cocoa Bean Co Dark Choc Sea Salt)

6 streaky, crispy bacon rashers (I use M&S crispy, streaky Irish bacon rashers) *optional

18 large marshmallows, 18 spoonfuls of marshmallow fluff or 3-4 mini marshmallows per tart

Instructions:

Melt butter and set aside.

In the bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade, pulse the graham crackers and sugar.  When mixture resembles coarse sand, add melted butter.


Press mixture into individual fluted tart tins, miniature muffin pan or 9in tart tin (spray with a bit of cooking spray).


Bake in preheated 350/180c* oven for 8-10 minutes. Set aside to cool.

Place chopped chocolate in a glass bowl set over a pan of simmering water. When completely melted take off the pan and set aside to cool slightly

Cook bacon until crisp. Place onto plate with kitchen paper to absorb grease and set aside. When cool, crumble finely. 

Assembly:


Spoon 1 teaspoon of bacon crumbles into pre-baked crusts.


Spoon 2-3 teaspoons of melted dark chocolate on top of bacon crumbles.

Top with large or small marshmallows or a large spoonful of marshmallow fluff.

Place under hot grill (or under broiler) to melt the top of marshmallow (do not turn your back even for a minute, it can burn fast!) Alternatively you can torch the marshmallows.

Top with a bit of leftover bacon crumbles


Will keep in fridge for 3 days but best eaten straight away.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Tags: American, bacon s'mores, country life, farm, farmer, farmette, Farming, foodie, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish country living, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Married an Irish Farmer, married an irishman, mini s'mores, s'mores, s'mores tarts, sh'mores

Tuesday. 9:30am. Phone rings. I answer: Hello?

Caller: I’m afraid your cows are having breakfast in my garden.

Me: Silence

Caller: Can you please come for them?

Me: Of course…gosh, I’m terribly sorry…can I…ummm…offer you some milk for your trouble? 

Caller: See you soon.

Me: Righ

Caller: Click.

Me: t.

And, so are the days of our lives.

But, this post isn’t about cows breaking into other people’s gardens. Of course not. It is about a sweet gooey classic Irish pastry. The more I research traditional recipes that originated in either Ireland or the UK, I am struck by the dimension of flavour that can be achieved with the simplest of ingredients. I like to imagine how some of these historic recipes may have been created. Close your eyes and picture a merry young woman in a pretty pinafore while standing in a kitchen circa 1800s. Or, if it’s easier, perhaps she looks a bit like Miss Patmore from Downton Abbey. She stands staring at a loaf of bread, a basket of eggs, some flour, sugar and jam, like a Master Chef contestant trying to crack what she can create for pudding that night. She decides to meringue the egg whites, crumble the bread and open the jar of freshly potted raspberry jam, and voila, she appoints a beguiling “Queen of Puddings!” The following week, she uses more breadcrumbs and a tin of golden syrup to make a treacle tart. For more variety, she swaps some black treacle from a neighbouring farm to make her treacle tart even darker and richer…macabre, if you  will.  Many years later, if she’s American, she’ll add a drop of bourbon to it…just for good measure.

Treacle tart is basically bread crumbs soaked with golden syrup and/or black treacle (molasses), poured into a sweet pastry case and baked. Apparently, Shoo-Fly pie from the American south was derived from treacle tart. We like to nibble on fingers of it while sipping a cup of strong espresso with a lemon twist. It’s very rich. And, with the black treacle, black licorice notes come through. The bourbon doesn’t make it boozy, it just knocks the sweetness back a bit. Geoffrey prefers the golden-syrup-only version as does Harry Potter.

I was inspired to make this treacle tart by a letter I received from an Irish Country Living reader. She spoke of a treacle cake that I must have mentioned in my column, but could not recall. It could have been my description of the hijinks that ensued when I attempted a steamed pudding made with golden syrup, which came out a bit lopsided (to be conservative). I never did send her a recipe, but I am sharing here and will send her this recipe as well. Here’s hoping she will like it. And hopefully you will too.

Here goes:

Bourbon Treacle Tart

Ingredients

Sweet pastry of your choosing

300g golden syrup (you can order from Amazon or other online retailers)

50g dark treacle (sub molasses)

25g Kentucky bourbon (I use Buffalo Trace, but any bourbon will do the trick)

150g fresh bread crumbs (whatever you have around)

zest of 1 lemon

a pinch of salt

Method

Heat the oven to 160°c.

On a floured work surface, roll out the pastry to a thickness of about ½cm.

Line a 20cm flan ring or flan tin with a detachable base with the pastry.

Line the inside of the pastry with greaseproof paper, then fill the greaseproof paper with baking beans or rice, making sure they are into the corners, and put it into the oven for 20 minutes.

While the pastry is baking, put the golden syrup and treacle into a pan over a medium-low heat and warm it for about 3 minutes, until it becomes runny and easily pourable.

Add the rest of the ingredients for the filling to the syrup and stir them in.

When the pastry has baked, remove it from the oven, take out the greaseproof paper containing the baking beans and allow it to rest until it is cool enough to handle.

Pour in the filling mixture.

Put the tart back into the oven for 15 minutes.

Remove the tart from the oven and allow it to rest for 10 minutes before removing it from the flan ring or tin.

Cut into portions and serve.

A dollop of whipped cream or a scoop of ice cream is lovely with this…or just a strong coffee with a twist.

The winner of Catherine Fulvio’s Eat Like An Italian is:  Emily O’ Regan. Congratulations Emily! Please email your mailing address to imen.producer@ireland.com. Thanks to all who left a comment, Catherine’s book is well worth the asking price and is available at Eason’s and on Amazon.com.

Slan Abhaile

Imen

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: bourbon, country life, farm, farmer, farmette, foodie, foodies, harry potter, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish country living, irish farmer, irish food, Irish food photography, Married an Irish Farmer, married an irishman, pudding, queen of puddings, shoo fly oie, treacle tart

This week I am delighted to share two prized personalities in Irish food: Catherine Fulvio & Pat Whelan.

Catherine Fulvio has just released a gorgeous new cookery book, Eat Like An Italian: Recipes for the Good Life, which the postman delivered to the farm last week. In my estimation, I’ve made three stunning recipes already, so I am hoping we are all well on our way to la dolce vita.

Catherine grew up holding the apron strings of her mother who managed their guesthouse on the family farm. She continues her passion today at Ballyknocken Country House and Cookery School in the wilds of gorgeous County Wicklow, which has been in her family for more than 100 years. {If you are traveling to Ireland, book in and stay, I’ll come join you for a cookery class!}.

Catherine’s interest in Italian cooking may have something to do with the fact that her husband, Claudio, hails from Palermo, Sicily, and judging from her latest release, she certainly knows how to celebrate Italian food like a bonafide bella donna.  Catherine has presented two food programs for RTE, Catherine’s Italian Kitchen and Catherine’s Roman Holiday as well as appearing on NBC’s The Today Show in the USA. In person, she has a way of making you feel instantly at ease with her genuine warmth and girl-next-door nature. Her books and television programs convey that same welcoming feeling, leaving you yearning to sit down at her kitchen table for lunch and end up chatting all afternoon.

Pat Whelan is a fifth generation butcher from Clonmel, County Tipperary. Both his mother and father came from farming families, and the family business, James Whelan Butchers uses beef from its own farm where the cattle are grass-fed and then into their own private abbatoir. Pat explains “having our own farm, our own abattoir and our own shop to sell our beef, allows us to give people that essential element of trust that every consumer requires when they buy meat today in our store or order meats online.”

I count Pat as a friend and collaborator. We have worked together on several creative food endeavours and he is a featured artisan in my film, Food Island alongside his happy herd of Irish Waygu cattle. Pat is a butcher and businessman who has a big personality and is constantly thinking out-of-the box, yet always manages to be quietly composed, if not humble. He is considered to be an innovator and inspiration to many in food including Rick Stein, who lists Pat as one of his food heroes.

James Whelan Butchers is headquartered in Clonmel, County Tipperary and also recently opened a stunning boutique butcher shop in Avoca, Monkstown, Dublin.

In Eat Like An Italian Catherine Fulvio celebrates all that is great about Italian food and food culture with over 100 new recipes for la dolce vita complete with tips on introducing Irish artisan produce to each preparation as well. On the bottom of each recipe page there is a lovely footnote which includes a suggestion for a local Irish ingredient. In my case, her recipe for pappardelle with ragù was made impossibly delicious by using braised Waygu short ribs from Pat Whelan.

So go on, Waygu your ragù.

Pappardelle with Ragù

from Eat Like An Italian

extra virgin olive oil

75g pancetta diced

400g slow-roasted shoulder of pork (I used slow braised Waygu beef)

1 onion

1 carrot

1 celery stalk

1 tsp dried oregano

2 garlic cloves

2 tbsp tomato puree

400g tinned chopped tomatoes

275 beef stock

150ml red wine

salt and freshly ground black pepper

350g pappardelle

fresh basil leaves to garnish (I used fresh oregano leaves)

1. To make the ragù, heat a large saucepan with a little oil over a meduim heat. Add the pancetta and cook until it’s crispy and brown, then add the shredded pork (or substitute)

2. Stir in the onion, carrot, celery and oregano and cook for about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and tomato puree and cook for 1 minute. Stir in the tinned tomatoes, stock, wine, and some salt and pepper. Allow to simmer for 15-20 minutes, until a thick ragù has formed. Season to taste.

3. Meanwhile, cook the pasta according to the instructions on the package.

4. Add the cooked, drained, pasta to the ragù sauce and garnish.

Wherever you live, you can substitute a locally sourced ingredient…or just use the recipes as-is, they all look absolutely gorgeous.

Leave a comment below to enter the drawing for a spanking new copy of Eat Like An Italian. Will ship anywhere in the world. Best of luck!

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Eat Like An Italian: Recipes for the Good Life is available in Easons and online at Amazon.co.uk

Pappardelle photo by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: Catherine Fulvio, country life, farm, farmer, foodie, foodies, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, irish food, Irish food photography, James Whelan, Pat Whelan, ragu, waygu beef

Batten down the hatches, it’s chocolate cake time again. Well, Smoked {Dark Chocolate} Porter Cake. So, yes, things are gonna get serious around here. Pour yourself a large glass of milk (either that, or just fast forward to the recipes at the end)

This week, Rosemary McCabe, an Irish fashion journalist that I respect, made a curious remark via social media: “Okay, so I still READ I Married an Irish Farmer, but I wish it wasn’t about how a woman gave up her career for a man. ‪#sonotcool”

Now, you might think I was offended. Or, you might think, why bother addressing it?  I wasn’t offended, the thing is, I can see her point. I wouldn’t give up my career for just any ole’ man either. I don’t really see it that way.

Rosemary isn’t the first person to spark up motivation for this post. I have had more than one email containing the unusual question: “Is love enough to marry a farmer?” or something similar. The question comes from women who have busy careers/lives, perhaps in a city, who have no inclination to become a farmer (yet), or to move to the countryside, but who are in a loving relationship with someone who farms. It’s a fair question.

For some time I have wanted to write a post about the nitty-gritty of how I got here. I’ve shared a little bit about how Richard and I met,there’s even a little interview with him, there’s the “when and why” I started this blog, along with various bits and bobs about the farm. But mostly, the blog has become about food. Food, glorious food.

I love my husband (and, still think he’s H.O.T. which is what realllly matters after 8+ years right?) and what we have created together. I’m not going anywhere. Some days my life can seem like a dream come true, others not so much. Admittedly, my biggest challenge since moving to Ireland has been rebuilding a creative career. Love is magnificent, but it is not enough ( for me, and wouldn’t be for my husband either if tables were turned). Work is too meaningful. I prefer to earn my own income. It is crucial for me to doing something creative which is valued besides being a wife + mother. Plus, I can’t really sit still or quiet for long periods of time, so I don’t really have a choice in the matter.

When I made the decision to move to Ireland to be with Richard, I fully intended to keep my job and work from Ireland. I didn’t plan on having to start over from scratch. As much as I respect farming, I didn’t plan on becoming a farmer myself. We were two people in love who had to make a choice. We simply knew that he couldn’t “relocate” his farm, and I thought my work was more flexible. I had been mostly working on overseas productions and things were becoming pretty virtual at the time so it seemed like a go. I was young and precocious and must have thought I was invaluable. In the end, that didn’t work out. Still, I believed I would be able to get freelance production work in Ireland on a somewhat steady basis once I was settled in. That started out fairly good, I found work on the production of a popular Irish television series, which happened to be shooting in the countryside near us. When that was finished, I searched for work with agencies in Dublin and Cork to no avail. If they were going to hire anyone, it seemed would be someone local or at least more mobile or Irish than I at the time. {Richard tells me I’ve “become more Irish than the Irish themselves” so perhaps I should call on them again?}

After I had a baby, I became a full-time mommy and it seemed like all serious career bets were off. I could barely manage to get a shower in when Geoffrey was an infant. He was born nearly 8 weeks premature and had some health issues. Thankfully, not serious health issues, but made for difficulty in feeding and nutrition. If you are a mother of a child who is not a “good grubber”, you know that you would die trying to make sure your child is fed.  Richard left at 6AM and didn’t return until late in the evening. I was alone with Geoffrey most of the time and didn’t have a clue as to what I was doing. I relied heavily on emails, phone calls, books and internet message boards submitting questions as banal as “what if the poo doesn’t smell?”

Since I didn’t have the security of a job anymore, I had to procure a new set of skills, including, but not limited to DIY’ing my own half-n-half. So, just when I thought my abilities were completely irrelevant here, I turned to food. At first, I started eating digestive biscuits and Hob Nobs by the packet, which wasn’t really helping matters. Then, I discovered that I could actually cook, bake and make butter and that by doing so, I could make new friends and not feel so isolated. I also discovered that I could write, which was, in fact, therapeutic, and also garnered me a job. I took small bits that I learned while producing food commercials and started styling and photographing food for this blog and also for an Irish cookery book. We’ve now turned a bright, unfinished room in our house into a little studio so that I can take on more clients if am called upon to do so. The best part is that I am bringing it full circle and have produced and directed a film on Irish food and farming that I hope will be the start of even more opportunities….and, at the risk of going all Oprah, perhaps this leap will have created ‘My Best Life’ yet?

Now, about that cake.

Porter cake is a tradition in Ireland that started when it occurred to someone that a porter would make a lovely addition to the dark, robust flavour of the popular fruit cake. Since we aren’t crazy for the fruity part of Irish fruit cakes in this house, I kept the mixed spice, but left out the fruit and added some dark, dark chocolate.  The end result is a rich, velvety, smoky chocolate cake that evenly carries the porter flavour throughout. I iced it in chocolate espresso buttercream, but to be honest, it doesn’t even need frosting, especially if you are serving it with a scoop of ice cream or a dollop of fresh cream.

Of course, you can use any porter or stout for the recipe. I used a sneaky bottle of gorgeous and ultra smoky porter that I brought back from America, which was home-brewed by Derek Sanderson in the beer mecca of Milwaukee, WI. I bet Knockmealdown Porter would be amazing. Also, a chocolate stout would be super.

To go with the cake, I decided to make malted barley ice cream, which has a lovely malted flavour (think super vanilla malted milkshake), and pairs supremely with the smoky, porter-y, chocolate-y cake. I bought the roasted, malted barley from a home-brew shop and steeped the grains in the custard before straining, adding a scoop of malted milk powder and churning.

Enough with all the seriousness already, have a slice of chocolate cake.

I am!

Smoky {Dark Chocolate} Porter Cake

3 ounces/85g high quality unsweetened dark chocolate, chopped

2 1/4 cups/280g all purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 tsp mixed spice (pumpkin spice works the same)

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

14 tablespoons (1 3/4 sticks) salted butter, room temperature

1 1/4 cups/250g plus 3 tablespoons sugar

3 large eggs, separated

1 1/4 cup/350ml extra smoky porter, (or regular or chocolate stout)

Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 350°F/170C. Butter and flour two 9-inch-diameter cake pans with 1 1/2-inch-high sides or 4 mini cake pans like I did. Line bottom of each cake pan with parchment paper round; butter and flour parchment.

Put chopped chocolate, butter and beer in medium metal bowl. Set bowl over saucepan of barely simmering water and stir until the mixture is melted and smooth. (smells wonderful) Remove bowl from over water and set aside.

Whisk 11/4 cups (250g) sugar, flour, baking powder, mixed spice, baking soda, and salt in medium bowl to blend. Add egg yolks 1 at a time to (lukewarm) melted chocolate, butter, beer mixture beating until well blended after each addition. Beat flour mixture into chocolate mixture in 2 additions just until incorporated.

Using clean dry beaters, beat egg whites and remaining 3 tablespoons sugar in another medium bowl until stiff but not dry. Fold 1/3 of egg whites into cake batter to lighten, then fold in remaining egg whites in 2 additions.

Divide batter between prepared cake pans (about 3 cups for each); smooth tops.

Bake cakes until tester inserted into centers comes out clean, about 30 minutes. Transfer cakes to racks and cool in pans 20 minutes. Invert cakes onto racks; remove parchment paper and cool completely.

Dark Chocolate Espresso Buttercream

4oz/114g high quality unsweetened dark chocolate, chopped

2 teaspoons instant espresso powder

3 tablespoons milk

1 cup (2 sticks)/227g butter, softened

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/8 teaspoon salt

4 cups/500g powdered sugar

Place chocolate in medium metal bowl. Set bowl over saucepan of barely simmering water and stir until melted and smooth. Dissolve instant coffee in milk in glass measure. Beat butter, vanilla extract and salt in large mixing bowl for 3 minutes. Beat in melted chocolate until blended, scraping occasionally. Gradually beat in powdered sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in coffee mixture, 1 tablespoon at a time, until desired spreading consistency.

Malted Barley Ice Cream

2 cups/475ml double cream

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

2/3 cup (90 g) malt powder

½ cup/100g roasted malted barley grains

1 cup/240ml whole milk

3/4 cup (150 g) sugar

pinch of salt

6 large egg yolks

Whisk the cream, vanilla and malt powder in a large heatproof bowl and set a mesh strainer over the bowl.  Combine the whole milk, sugar and salt in a medium saucepan and heat just until warm.

Meanwhile, whisk the egg yolks in a bowl. Slowly add the warm milk mixture to the egg yolks, whisking constantly. Pour back into the saucepan and set over medium heat. Stir constantly until the mixture thickens enough to create a custard that coats the back of a wooden spoon. Pour through the strainer into the malt powder mixture and stir to combine. Add the roasted barley grains and let steep for 30 minutes. Strain again.

Cover and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled (overnight is best). Freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: beer, farm, farmer, Farming, food, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Irish country living, irish farmer, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Irish Times, Kilcolman, malted barley ice cream, malted milk ice cream, married, married a farmer, Married an Irish Farmer, married an irishman, Porter cake, rosemary macabre, Smoked porter

Please forgive me for leaving you dangling with a dozen Gooseberry Jam Doughnuts for far too long.  I was hoping praying the jammy delights might be special enough to linger on while we ventured off-farm for a spell, so thanks for hanging in there. I’ve missed you!

After much ado, the farmers and I were finally able to hatch a plan to trek off on our annual whirlwind Stateside tour. We spent three weeks visiting family and friends, three farms + a sugar bush, two cherry orchards, a cidery, one fish boil, one drive-in cinema, a state fair, the sandy beach, a friendly film editor, and basically all things Americana. I managed to keep up with my weekly column for Irish Country Living, but wanted to wait until we were homebound to write a proper blog post.

We are now back at the farm and I am experiencing my “re-entry syndrome” which is basically what I like to call the stealth combination of massive jetlag + a heady cold/flu.  The bad news is that for whatever reason, it never fails to strike after spending a few hot summer weeks in the USA (despite coming home to mostly sunny Irish weather this time), but the bonus is that it always ends up also being a major detoxification which I like to think makes up for being a complete glutton a somewhat overindulgent holiday.

In between popping copious amounts of cold tablets, slamming Berocca by the litre, and sleeping for long stretches, I decided to read a book that I had been dying to dig into ever since my book proposal was “politely passed on” by Berkely, the publishing house who was already releasing Rurally Screwed, My Life Off the Grid with the Cowboy I Love, by Jessie Knadler. Rurally Screwed is a tale of a woman who left her journalism career in NYC to marry a cowboy that she meets on assignment in Montana. I devoured the book over the course of two days, and particularly enjoyed her frankness and honesty on adapting to a new life outside of the city, which now included rearing chickens, bible study, a wood-fired stove for heating, and Wa-Wa-Walmart. I chuckled at the irony in her visit to Brooklyn years later to find that so many cityfolk had morphed into hipster-style countryfolk . She didn’t realize that “farming” had become foxy. This is likely because when you really are farming, it’s anything but. It’s not a cookbook, but a memoir (she also has a preserving book), still, reading about deer (venison) neck tacos and her take on balancing the right amount lemony goo to pastry for lemon bars will surely make your mouth water.

That’s it for now, I will be back soon with a special new recipe that I’ve been dreaming up for some time…..it involves a different take on a classic Irish cake + some farm fresh homemade ice cream, so please stay tuned.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos by Imen McDonnell

Tags: American, farm, farmette, Farming, foodie, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Irish, Irish country living, irish food, Irish food photography, rurally screwed

“You can’t grow hairs on a duck egg,

Hairs only grow on an ape,

And it’s only the hairs on a goosegog,

That stop it from being a grape.”

~author unknown

As I patiently plucked goosegog after goosegog last weekend, I contemplated how deceptively ‘like grapes’ these little fruits appear to be. But, after popping one little globe into my mouth, while simultaneously hearing “Oh, you may not want to eat them raw” warned from behind me at precisely the same time, I realized in a bite, how absolutely ‘not like a grape’ and more like a lemon, they are…..{Cook’s Note: gooseberries are very sour and tart when eaten raw. There are some exceptions to this, but it is generally the rule.}

Yes, the glory of gooseberry season has arrived in the Irish countryside. I have been patiently waiting for harvest time since peeking in on the bushes last month to find that they were all beginning to produce berries. When there was finally a window of sunshine, Geoffrey and I quickly marched straight on over to the little farm orchard and harvested green and red gooseberries with Gran from six thriving bushes.

This is my third year being acquainted with gooseberries. We have become fast friends. Sure, we always have a little scuffle when I go to pick them from their thorny branches, but once made into jam, all is forgiven again. Last year, I made a simple gooseberry froyo and the year before I posted “Peggy’s Gooseberry Jam” my mother-in-law’s lovely recipe.

This time around, Peggy gave us free reign over the berries as she still has a cupboard full of jam lingering from last season. Since we picked about 8 lbs (15 kgs), I decided to use the berries a few different ways. After a half a day of topping and tailing the berries, we gave them a good wash and they were prepped and ready for the world.

At the brilliant suggestion of my friend, Heidi, at Serious Jam, I combined gooseberry with roasted garlic for a gorgeous relish that will be lovely on crostini or with some sharp Irish cheddar. Then, I made a few pots of classic jam using my spanking new jam jars from Hen and Hammock. After that, we baked two gooseberry-elderflower tarts “grandma style” that were specially requested by my father-in-law.

BUT, best of all….we made:

Homemade donuts are no strangers in this house {cough}, but I had never attempted to make a jam donut up until now. I must admit, jam donuts were never a particular favourite of mine growing up. This is important to note, as I do consider myself somewhat of a donut addict aficionado. I have always relished Long Johns, Persians, Krullers, Kolaches, Fritters, or basically any type of raised unfilled donut slathered with vanilla, chocolate, or maple icing and toasted coconut, crushed peanuts, or various sprinkles gracing the tops. Then, there is also my affinity to the glazed, sugared, and cinnamon-sugared ring donuts and holes.  There was only one exception to my unfilled donut preference; I have always adored bismark donuts filled with custard and poofed all over with powdery confectioners sugar.

For whatever reason, the jelly-jam injection just did not strike my fancy.

Until now.

Originating in Germany around 1532, calling themselves “Berliner Buns” the jelly doughnut popularity spread across Europe swiftly. And, from what I can tell, jam doughnuts appear to be the doughnut-of-choice in Ireland.  They are mostly filled with a very sweet black currant or raspberry jam, and sprinkled liberally with sugar. Every bakery, grocery store, filling station and farmer’s market will have jam donuts ready and waiting for you.

At the little farmer’s urging, we decided to make the doughnuts on Saturday morning and fill them with our freshly potted gooseberry jam. For a little more novelty, we decided to mix up some lemonade and try to sell our donuts and lemonade at the farm gate.

We had one very good customer, and his name was Daddy.

Still, we had no problem finishing off our leftover stock……

Move over Long John, Jammy’s moving in.

Geoffrey’s Gooseberry Jam Doughnuts

Ingredients

2 (7 g each) packets of dried yeast granules

1/4 cup or 60ml warm water

1 cup or 250ml warm milk

1/4 cup or 60g caster/superfine sugar

60g or 3 tbsp butter, melted

2 eggs, lightly beaten

3 3/4  cups or 165g  plain flour

1/2 cup or 75g gooseberry jam (or any flavour), approximately {Peggy’s recipe is nice}

Oil for deep frying and icing/confectioner’s sugar for coating

Method

Combine yeast, water milk and sugar in small bowl.

Cover, stand in warm place about 10 minutes or until mixture is frothy.

Stir butter and eggs into yeast mixture.

Sift flour into large bowl, stir in yeast mixture, mix to a soft dough.

Cover, stand in warm place about 45 minutes or until dough has doubled in size.

Turn dough onto lightly floured surface, knead dough about 5 minutes or until smooth.

Roll dough until about 2cm (about 1 inch) thick, cut into 5cm (about 2.5 inch) rounds.

Loosely cover rounds with oiled plastic wrap, stand in warm place about 10 minutes, or until almost doubled in size.

Deep-fry doughnuts in batches in hot oil until well browned, turning once.

Drain on absorbent paper, toss doughnuts immediately in icing sugar

Let cool slightly and fill a pastry bag, fitted with a 1/2-inch round tip with jam.

Insert the tip into the end of each doughnut and pipe approximately 1 to 2 teaspoons into them and serve.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell 2012. Donut making and sales assistance by Geoffrey McDonnell.

Tags: American, donut, doughnut, elderflower gooseberry tart, farm, farmer, Farming, foodies, gooseberry jam, Hen and Hammock, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, irish farmer, Irish food photography, jam donut, jelly doughnut, Married an Irish Farmer, married an irishman, serious jam

I made a cherry tart for the first time in my life today. Not just any ordinary cherry tart, a cheery cherry tart made with Irish grown cherries. Cheery because it’s been raining here for weeks and we needed a little cheering up.  So, for the record, I will confirm that a corner of cherry tart with a scoop of homemade buttermilk ice cream certainly brought a snippet of sunshine to our day.

Now, many of you might not think baking a cherry pie or tart is such an extraordinary accomplishment, but I can assure you that finding Irish cherries to make such a tart is no small feat. Sure, you can go to your supermarket and buy cherries from all corners of the earth at this time of year, but you’ll never see “COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: IRELAND” labeled on a package unless you are at farmer’s market, and even then, it is very rare. In fact, until the surprising opportunity arose in which to pick cherries in our area, I was ready to fill up the car with diesel and drive all the way to Temple Bar in Dublin very early on a Saturday morning to score a punnet or two from David Llewelyn. So, bearing that in mind, this is one damned special cherry tart.

I don’t know about you, but I have some fantastic food memories from my childhood that I just can’t shake. They have become seasonal expectations, and no matter where I am in the world, these remarkable bits of nostalgia creep into my consciousness, take me back to a footloose and fancy-free American youth, and then proceed to create criminal cravings.

Summer cherries happen to be one of those cravings. Every summer I’ll find myself longing for cherries, and not just the cherries, but the cherry picking. (others bits of nostalgia might be sugar snap pea pickin-n-nibblin chain gang style at the local pick-your-own veg farm, or Sunday country drives with my dad in search of secret wild asparagus). Despite having lived in Minneapolis, L.A. and NYC, I grew up on Lake Michigan within a stone’s throw from Door County, aka, Cherry Country. Each summer, everything from cherry pie to cherry wine, cherry jam, salsa or sausage was suddenly on offer in boutique stores to bait shops. On our visit last year, we made a special trip to Fish Creek to sample Good Morning America’s Best Breakfast in the USA, White Gull Inn’s Cherry Stuffed French Toast. It was perfection on a plate.

Last week, myself, and the two farmers graciously accepted an invitation to pick cherries and other fruits at the estate of a new friend and colleague who is passionate about the business of supporting the growing and sustaining of local food in Ireland. (Stay tuned to learn more about his special program, as I will be sharing more about this exciting initiative in the months to come.)

We arrived at Attyflin on a cool, wet evening and were warmly greeted by our lovely host, his two Irish Red Setters and a charming little terrier who guided us into an 18^th century walled garden. Once through the gate, I took a moment to observe the impeccably organised two acres or so of space impressively filled with thriving vegetables, fruits and herbs. I had no idea what to expect outside of a few cherry trees when we arrived, and what was before my eyes was nothing short of breathtaking. I reckon that what lies between those walls must be on par with the Lissadel House gardens, which I never had a chance to visit before it was closed to the public.

As we walked around, we were introduced to fig trees, peaches, plums and apple trees, loganberry, blackberry, raspberry canes, black and red currants, blueberries, and last but not least, two different varieties of cherry trees which were covered in netting and growing on the wall. I suspect the protection from both weather and birds was instrumental in bearing such beautiful fruit.

We picked cherries and some other berries, went into the family home for a cup of tea and chat before heading back to the farm for the night. On the drive home, Geoffrey instantly fell asleep while we marveled in gratitude and awe over what we had just encountered. For the next two days, I pondered what to make with our cherry/berry bounty. It was a special evening to remember.

Irish Cherry-Rosemary Tart

(adapted from The Joy of Baking)

For the Pate Brisee (Short Crust Pastry)

2 1/2 cups(350g) all-purpose/cream flour

1 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoon (30g) granulated or caster white sugar

1 cup (227g) unsalted butter, chilled, and cut into 1 inch (2.5 cm) pieces

1/4 to 1/2 cup (60 – 120ml) ice water

For the Cherry Filling

4 cups (960 ml) pitted, sweet or tart fresh cherries (can use 4 cups (960 ml) sweet or tart canned or bottled cherries, drained with 1/3 cup (80 ml) cherry juice reserved)

3/4 cup (150g) granulated white sugar, or as needed

2 1/2 tablespoons (30g) Cornstarch/Cornflour

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

2-3 fresh rosemary sprigs

2 tablespoons (25 grams) unsalted butter, cut in small pieces

For the Glaze

2 tablespoons cream

Granulated white sugar

In a food processor, place the flour, salt, and sugar and process until combined. Add the butter and process until the mixture resembles coarse meal (about 15 seconds). Pour 1/4 cup (60 ml) water in a slow, steady stream, through the feed tube until the dough just holds together when pinched. If necessary, add more water. Do not process more than 30 seconds.

Turn the dough onto your work surface and gather into a ball. Divide the dough in half, flattening each half into a disk, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for about one hour before using. This will chill the butter and relax the gluten in the flour.

After the dough has chilled sufficiently, remove one portion of the dough from the fridge and place it on a lightly floured surface. Roll the pastry into a 12inch (30cm) rectangle. Fold the dough in half and gently transfer to the rectangular tart pan. Brush off any excess flour and tuck the overhanging pastry under itself, crimping as desired. Refrigerate the pastry, covered with plastic wrap, while you roll out the remaining pastry and make the cherry filling.

Meanwhile, remove the second round of pastry and roll it into another rectangle. Using a crimped pastry cutter, cut strips of pastry for lattice top. Place the strips on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet, cover with plastic wrap, and place in the refrigerator.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F (205 degrees C) and place the oven rack in the lower third of the oven.

Place the cherries in a large bowl. Add the sugar, cornstarch, salt, lemon juice, vanilla extract, rosemary sprigs, and gently toss to combine. (If using canned cherries also add the 1/3 cup (80 ml) reserved cherry juice.) Let sit for about 10-15 minutes and then pour the mixture into the prepared tart case and dot with the 2 tablespoons (25 grams) of butter. Lightly brush the rim of the pastry case with the egg wash. Weave the pastry lattice tip and brush the entire surface with the cream. Sprinkle with a little granulated white sugar.

Place the tart on a larger baking pan, lined with parchment paper, to catch any spills. Bake the tart for about 15 minutes and then reduce the oven temperature to 350 degrees F (177 degrees C). Continue to bake the tart for about 25 – 35 minutes or until the crust is a deep golden brown color and the cherry juices are starting to bubble. If the edges of the tart are browning too much during baking, cover with a foil ring.

Place the baked tart on a wire rack to cool for several hours.  Serve at room temperature with buttermilk ice cream in a jar like my friend Shaina would do! Store any leftovers for 2 – 3 days at room temperature.

Buttermilk Ice Cream

6 egg yolks

¾ cup (150g) sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 ½ cups (375ml) heavy(double)cream

1 vanilla bean

1 1/4 cups (325ml) buttermilk

1/2 teaspoon lemon zest

Heavy pinch of salt

Whisk together the yolks, ½ cup (100g) sugar and vanilla extract until the mixture is pale and holds a ribbon.

In a saucepan, bring the cream and ¼ cup (50g) sugar to a simmer with vanilla bean; remove from heat and allow to steep for 15 minutes. Split and scrape beans; return seeds to cream.

While whisking, slowly pour the hot cream into the yolk mixture, then return the mixture back to the pot. Cook over medium heat until it coats the back of a wooden spoon, 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat and allow to cool briefly before whisking in the buttermilk, lemon zest and salt.

Chill completely and churn in an ice-cream maker. Makes 2 pints.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos & Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: buttermilk ice cream, cherry pie, cherry tart, DOor County, farm, farmer, Farming, foodie, foodies, Good Morning America, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Irish, Irish country living, Irish food photography, irish foodies, loganberry, love, marrying an irish man, pie a day

We are busy picking gooseberries and clipping elderflowers at the farm

for some fun {upcoming} blogposts, so in the meantime

I wanted to share a few bits & bobs that may be of interest to you….

Our friends at Irish Fireside have launched

a terrific new app called Ireland Travel Kit, have a peek!

Sylvia Thompson & Liberties Press have just released a new book

The Art of Crafting in Ireland which is just gorgeous,

+ also features a few of my farmhouse butter + cheese photographs.

And finally,

The summer edition of the new Irish Country Magazine

is available in news agents throughout Ireland now!

Here are few good reasons to run out and pick up a copy:

The lovely Catherine Fulvio is on the cover with a magnificent interview inside

featuring her family, farm, and Ballyknocken Cookery School.

In the McNean Experience, you will find some really tasty recipes by Neven McGuire.

The beautiful spread on Irish Farmhouse Cheeses,

styled by my friend, Sharon Hearne-Smith,

will no doubt have you scurrying to Sheridan’s Cheesemongers.

I spotted a beautiful shrug designed by Eilis Boyle in the Lazy Days of Summer editorial.

Mairead Lavery writes about a spectacular secret garden in County Laois.

Fiona Dillon hatches a plan in her “rear your own” poultry column .

and for a giggle…

I’m sharing “tickling tweets” on page 8!

At all good shops in Ireland

and available for subscription online.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Cover photograph by Carol Dunne

Tags: American, Catherine Fulvio, country life, farm, farmer, Farming, foodies, hunterslodge living, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Ireland Travel Kit, Irish country living, Irish country magazine, irish farmer, irish fireside, Irish food photography, liberties press, Married an Irish Farmer, marrying an irish man, neven maguire, sharon hearne smith, sheridans cheesemongers

3 Milks
+
Cake
=
Heaven

I have been burning to make this beguiling cake of three milks for some time, and when Lily Rameriz-Foran, another food loving expat living and blogging in Ireland, opened her long-awaited online Mexican food market it seemed like the perfect excuse opportunity to get an authentic recipe to make a Tres Leches cake at last.  We are colossal lovers of Mexican food in this house, and until now finding ingredients such as chipotle peppers, masa or authentic tortillas had been nearly impossible to source where we are located in the west of Ireland.

Lily was kind enough to share her special family recipe for Tres Leches cake with me. This dense and creamy dairy cake is made using three different milks. I knew that I wanted to try and use all three milks fresh from the farm, including the evaporated and condensed milk, so after doing some clandestine research, I learned how I could prepare each from scratch.

Turns out, while it does take a fair bit of time, both milks are very simple to make and the flavour is far superior to any version of the same in a tin with a supermarket shelf life of six months or more.

Interestingly, I found that the preparation for this cake is actually very similar to angel food cake, except the recipe includes the egg yolks as well. It is important to sift the flour at least three times and keep everything really airy throughout the mixing process. I have enjoyed Tres Leches cake in restaurants, but the combination of Lily’s recipe and the fresh milks have resulting in a cake that would be dangerously easy for me to tuck into every day.

If you have children, this is fun to make with the smallies as it involves poking holes in the cake with a toothpick, a skill that kids have heaps of fun doing.

I encouraged our little farmer to assist me in everything from manning the mixer to the pricking, and finally, pouring the tres leches over the cake. Let’s just say, he is very proud of “his milk cake”

Creamy, dreamy…….heavenly cake, especially on a summer day!

Lily’s Tres Leches Cake

Ingredients:

For the cake:

2 cups/240g of all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons of baking powder

1 cup/200g of caster sugar 8 eggs (separated)

1/3 cup/80ml of full fat milk

For the Tres Leches Mix:

1 12 oz/354ml condensed milk

1 12 oz/354ml of evaporated milk

1 cup/225 ml of double cream

1 tsp of pure vanilla extract

1 tsp of Rompope or Tia Maria or Brandy ( I left the booze out in order to be kid-friendly this time)

For the Icing:

3 egg whites

1 cup/200g of caster sugar

3 tablespoons of golden syrup

1⁄4/60ml cup of water

For the Cake:

Preheat the oven at 200c/400f degrees and grease a springform cake tin, I use a round 20 cm one, but you might want your cake taller or square. Sieve the flour and baking powder 3 times (yes, 3 times! It’s important) and set aside.

Using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Gradually add the sugar while still beating. Then follow with the egg yolks one at a time and beating well between additions. When the last yolk has been mixed well, put the electric mixer away and using a hand whisk, fold the flour & baking powder mix in three goes. Finish off by adding the milk again using a folding motion to keep the cake light and airy. Pour the mixture into the prepared tin and bake in the oven for 30 to 35 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. While the cake is in the oven, get on with making the Tres Leches Mix.

For the Tres Leches Mix:

Put all ingredients in the blender or food processor and blend them together. Pour them into a jug and set aside.

When the cake is cooked, take it out of the oven and using a toothpick or a thin skewer, prick the entire cake. Make loads of holes as they will be used to soak the cake with the tres leches mix. Once the cake has been pricked, take it out of the tin. Place the cake in a cake plate or tray with a bit of a lip as there will be liquid running through it.

Once the cake is in the correct plate and while it is still hot, pour the Tres Leches mixture slowly through the whole of the cake, making sure you’re gentle and that all the little holes you made earlier get saturated with this milky mixture. It is very important that the pouring of the milk is done while the cake is still hot as otherwise the cake will just go soggy. There’s a lot of milk mixture, so don’t worry about it, just pour it gently and try to cover the cake all over and down the edges. You can now leave the cake to cool completely and store it in the fridge until you’re ready to ice it.

For the Icing:

If you have a free standing electric mixer, use it to beat the egg whites until they form soft peaks and leave them ready. In a small, deep pot, put the sugar, water and honey and heat them till they start to boil. As soon as this happens, take them out of the heat and start the mixer on the egg whites again. Slowly, very slowly, pour the hot ‘honey’ you’ve just taken from the heat. Do it very gently and keep the mixer working on high speed until all the liquid has been incorporated to the whites. Switch off the mixer and get ready for icing!

Take the cake out of the fridge and cover it with the icing. Top it up with some chopped pecan nuts, fresh strawberries or a cherry. You can also drizzle some ‘cajeta’ on top of the icing (I sell it in the shop and it is dulce de leche made of goats milk) to turn your cake from 3 to 4 leches!

Farm Fresh Homemade Sweetened Condensed Milk

1 liter whole milk from your farm or local dairy (store bought is fine too)

1 cup granulated sugar (can also use brown or raw sugar)

1 tablespoon butter (optional – to thicken the milk)

In a heavy-bottomed pot, bring the milk and the sugar to a boil over medium heat.

Reduce the heat to low and simmer very gently for about two hours until the volume is reduced by half. The mixture should be barely simmering and never bubbling at any point. Stir every 15 minutes or so to keep the milk from burning on the bottom.

After 2 hours, stir in butter (optional)

Remove the pot from heat and let the milk cool. The mixture will thicken further after it has cooled.

Will keep in refrigerator for 2 weeks or more.

(This milk is perfect (no butter version) for making Vietnamese iced coffee too!)

Farm Fresh Homemade Evaporated Milk

2 litres whole milk from your farm or local dairy (from the store is fine as well)

In a heavy-bottomed pot, bring the milk to a boil over medium heat.

Reduce the heat to low and simmer very gently for about two hours until the volume is reduced by 60%. The milk should be barely simmering and never bubbling at any point. Stir every 15 minutes or so to keep the milk from burning on the bottom.

Remove the pot from heat and let the milk cool. The milk will thicken further after it has cooled.

Will keep in refrigerator for 2 weeks or more.

I hope you enjoy this cake as much as we do! Thanks again Lily! xx

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell and Geoffrey McDonnell 2012

Tags: farm, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, foodies, homemade condensed milk, homemade evaporated milk, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, irish farmer, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Lily Ramirez-Foran, Married an Irish Farmer, Marrying an Irishman, Mexican Cook in Eire, mexican food, tres leches

It’s haymaking season here in the Irish countryside, a time when the grassy harlequin fields are being clipped and baled or gathered to make silage. There is even a haymaking festival this month in Trim, County Meath that sounds like a bit of fun.

Any given Irish cow’s diet is made up almost entirely of grass. Whether while grazing in little green fields or munching on hay or silage in the shed during bad weather, grass is a bovine’s first love. Our girls adore it so much that I have often wondered if they would actually ever stop eating it if they didn’t have other milk-related things to carry out each day.

Not surprisingly, the land that we built our home on the farm upon was originally a grazing pasture. In fact, in the first two years of living here, Richard often had a herd of 50+ cattle lingering around in our yard a couple times a month. He would explain with a laugh, “they’re just cutting the lawn for us.”  I would respond by nodding with glazed over eyes, thinking to myself “this too shall pass,” which is ironic because three years on I often find myself thinking it would be nice to have the cows gathered around the house again, if only it wouldn’t create such a mess.

I recall getting to know the girls more intimately during those years. There was always 2-3 heifers who were very curious and would get very close to the house and just gaze into the windows at me. We would literally engage in staring contests with one another as I stood at the kitchen sink eyeing them up and they carefully examined me as if to say, “Hmmm, don’t you look quite odd.” (Ever seen the Twilight Zone episode called “Human Zoo”? Ahem.)

Other times, I’d find myself getting lost in the rhythmic chanting of the pull/chomp/chew…under-the-breath-moo, which was completely audible despite being indoors. Before I knew it, I was hypnotically lulled into observing them for longer periods than I care to admit, and would begin to contemplate things like: how is it possible that little blades of grass could nutritionally sustain such large animals?* And, why don’t humans eat it too?** Do cows think and feel like us?*** One day, I clipped some grass and nibbled on a blade or two. The flavour reminded me of my former stateside fling with a morning shot of wheat grass, which was swiftly followed by a reminder that wheatgrass shots are one thing I really don’t miss about my American life.

Our grass is still not a proper planted “lawn”, but we mow it like it is and my father-in-law often reminds me that we are “wasting good hay for the cows by not letting it grow wild.” My inflexibility on this is just as perplexing to him as having a yard full of 3-foot grass is to me. Let’s just say, we agree to disagree.

When I heard about a restaurant in Washington state (USA) that was making hay ice cream, I was instantly intrigued. I knew the season was just around the bend here, so this week I did some research and tested a couple recipes. Since all of our cut grass is used for silage, I got a handful from a neighbor who has organic hay. I made a custard, and then let the hay steep in the mixture for 30 minutes to infuse the flavour.

The little farmer and I churned the ice cream, and on a whim, decided to put together a picnic and head to the meadow at the thatched farm in the afternoon. I had one of our roast chickens in the fridge so I quickly made up a batch of honey chicken salad. We packed three darling cheese and potato nests leftover from tea the evening before, a loaf of fresh baked brown bread from breakfast, and mixed up a pitcher of elderflower + lavender cordial. Hay ice cream was put on ice in the cooler, ready for indulgence after our little lunch.

Just when it was time to eat the ice cream, the clouds parted and the sun came out. Not sure if it was the warm rays shining down on us or the actual hay ice cream flavour, but each spoonful tasted like sun to me.  Well, sun with a tarty tinge of grass or straw. Have you ever tried Oatscream? To me, it has a similar taste profile. We both liked it, probably not as much as my brown butter ice cream, but when Richard sampled it in the evening, he loved it and ate nearly a pint. You’ll have to try it for yourself, and let me know how you get on.

*it’s jam packed with water, carbohydrates, proteins, vitamins and minerals

**we’d need three more stomachs and special flora to digest it

*** Yes, just ask Temple Grandin!

Thanks to all who came to my cookery demo at Sheridan’s Irish Food Festival last weekend. If you would like the recipes for honey-chicken salad or Irish potato and cheese nests (tartiflette), I will be posting them to my Facebook page very soon!

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: country life, cows, dairy, farm, farmer, Farming, festival, grass fed, hay ice cream, haymaking, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish country living, Irish food photography, married an irishman, picnic, Temple Grandin, Trim haymaking festival